Temple of Words

Chant of return: I greet you, the house of all seasons You, Time, who has danced and danced With the sun and the moon clapping for you You when your foot was struck upon the soil Dusts of passing deeds scattered in the air: Then, it came, the breeze of remembrance taking all in, whence Tales of old times emerge from its large stomach Revealing what must not be left to be trampled to nothing On the grounds of old times. I see it now, as it comes to me Times when memories were still young and tender

I asked, I did and quietness replied, Why does Africa have a bent back? Is it that her long relentless journey Has made her wary?

Good soil is black My blood is black Good soil brings fruit My mouth blows flute

My black is black My eye is black My skin is black

Can't say if you've been a victim once, twice or every time, but I've been a victim for quite a number of times. Have you ever rushed to check the last chat you had with someone, perhaps a friend either on whatsapp, messenger,  etc., after receiving the news of his or her demise and at that moment you discover

When houseflies disturb your ears, you get angry, peeved and unsettled. All these happen only because you haven't come to the awareness of their act of thanksgiving. Don't you thank God when you receive an unmerited favour?

In this world, nothing is truly lost, instead all things can be found, if truly searched for.

If Jesus had no disciple, his work would have ended the day he died, but he understood the reason for purpose and its attachment to followship. If your purpose is for you alone, then it's too small a purpose.

Upon an unflowing water Which wave is a sickle cellar, I shall surely be thrown, Yet I will flow,

The more moments you mingle with the mindless breeze of men, you will mount the method of life which is that no matter what you do in life,

The more moments you mingle with the mindless breeze of men, you will mount the method of life which is that no matter what you do in life, mouths will mourn for your failure and when success comes, they will mourn, not leaving behind when death arrives. No wonder there are only few kinds of people in this world; the good and the bad and even the good is the bad and the bad is the good.

If the sun will shine tomorrow Let it be that of poetry; Reflecting itself like fire unquenchable In our eyes.

Who will save us from our issue of blood? God! Where is Jesus, your son and our Lord? We need to touch His sleeve to stop this flood of Blood,

red mind, red soul: bloody bond shrewd sword: all for one one bad tint turns the white sap of a true heart into the red blood

Know the rules before breaking them, not breaking the rules before knowing them . Poetry itself is a form of language usage that expresses in a connotational manner. It's as well as a vital expressive tool. However, the language a poet uses to express his/herself must be that which is familiar to the poet, be it Latin, English Yoruba,  Swahili, pidgin, etc.  This is because once a rule is broken in that language due to the privilege of a poet's poetic licence

In silence of expression I screech in pain of bewilderment.... Life, culture, unstructured structures

From the beginning of life, when God created man, he created a being that will be eternal. He created a soul that would transcend the realm of earthly subjection. Before the fall, the spirit and soul of man, the one that was created to dwell eternally dominated all aspect of man's life. At that time, when man was in a state of unity with the spirit and acknowledgement of God's will as the only real thing that could be, there was constant worship and communication between man and God.

To rely on fate is to rely on emptiness. Determine your success strategies by reading a book about it today. You only gain emptiness in emptiness.

Let me be absent on my death day And let my casket experience great solitude For if your breath still flows and mine then goes Then the grave shall have no home to home my cadaver.