Temple of Words

If you are a broken mirror and think you will find a complete self by looking through an intact mirror, then you have thought wrongly, for your broken self will still be revealed in that intact mirror. You can't hide who you are from

                               When two stones meet, they say, either one breaks the other, or they both break into pieces, but when two waters mix, they become one, and inseparable: so was the way it went for Akanji and Aduke. The day was bright at that time. The light of the sun shinned through the clouds, covering large fields of grasses and making them appear very radiant in their green skins. Akanji had kept it in mind for long: his heart pierced him badly that he knew that day was the day he would regain his freedom. Aduke, an elegant lady with vibrant smiles, enormous charms that made men melt on sighting her, sat beside Akanji as they usually did everyday. Many men have dreamt of Aduke in the night when they snoozed in bed with snores. In fact, many wanted to have her as something; be it wife, mistress or whatever just to have a taste of her, but the more they spoke to her, the more she rejected them. This was one of the reasons why Akanji feared to mouth his feeli

Mark my words- heed it- Words that have no heart But give pains, happiness Hurt and feelings of torture- My words are cold; feel them, They are warm; hug them

At the juncture of life where dreams D R O P Dead Let me not be there, Let me not witness how dreams Stagger, fully drunk with mirage, up and down Left to right

What do you do when you have smoked the sky and yet feel nothing than a fill of emptiness? Satisfaction rivers from us, but not in what we do to derive it; we are satisfaction ourselves.

A little bit of you and A little bit of me will Make a better bit of us when We both become one-

See, sometimes I shimmer in fear's realm I feel I would not get enough Of that which I have enough That- I would not raise a man from the man that myself was made That- I would not see the tomorrow I have dreamt of today.

Behind this heart, there is A heart; alive. It is not blood it pumps, It is not fluid it bears, It bears the link to all of humanity.

My Africa, My Africa Like the warmth of a mother's skin Catasis- uncovered Flowing from the depth of a heart full of Pounding love and emotion; A holding for a child. Like a tree to its root,

See! They too are the earth: The sun has bleached their skins Injecting in them darker pigments, Suffering signals. They are the earth, They are born of African soil..

Hope for rest in every unrest, seek for peace in broken pieces, ask for a ride even in pride, for when the drain comes, seek the rain. I am Mide Benedict and I weave words at Temple of Words

Ehn, the tone of mockery Is now intense Abi, which one is this? Budget has vanished? Ah, wonders beat the drum of Unrest with might! Budget wa daa? Aaoori! Ni bo lo lo? Aaori! Won ti gbe lo? Ta tu ni? Awon naa ni; awon taanan naa lo Se tooni! Lost but found.

Words do not hurt, the heart does. A thousand person can read three worded sentence and feel different ways. So do not be vexed or feel so attached when I say: You are mad, When I say: God bless you! When I say: I am saved! When I say: By his Blood When I say: I love you! When I say: You are ugly! When I say: You are beautiful. I am Mide Benedict and I weave words at Temple of Words.

Fade not with your reappearance Fade not with your voice getting louder Fade not with your growing beauty Fade not with your smile Fade not with your calming silence Fade not with your being being alive Fade not with your dripping darkness Which fades with the sun's arrival Fade not with your heart loving me Fade not with the truth unspoken in your throat. I am Mide Benedict and I weave words at Temple of Words.

I cannot imagine The pain that will sink itself Into the senses of those Whose quest is to care less for When the thunder strikes.

I was told not to write about death, Not to write about the things that may Cause my death And as I thought that through, Words told me, if I did not write Death will be my cover cloth. Then I decided, I would rather die than die Even if death might come each time my pen bleeds, I will not stop. I am Mide Benedict and I weave words at Temple of Words

Nigeria, what have you done to Nigeria! My home, what have you made of home! Eyes that blind visions Nose that stop breath; what have you done?

It should have been that the woman from whose breast her food is provided is the breast she has provided. That woman is not Nigeria, for Nigeria drinks from the urinary her children have messed up, with her breast milk gushing and rushing into the urinary hole. Splash splash, sinriin riiin riin into the hole. I am Mide Benedict and I weave words at Temple of Words.

Fade not with your reappearance Fade not with your voice getting louder Fade not with your growing beauty Fade not with your smile Fade not with your calming silence Fade not with your being being alive Fade not with your dripping darkness Which fades with the sun's arrival Fade not with your heart loving me Fade not with the truth unspoken in your throat. I am Mide Benedict and I weave words at Temple of Words.

Wait... Do you know that 'When you are a successful male, women will run after you like flies to faeces!' The ways women have been qualified over the years have been awful, yet sometimes, it is some women who have engineered themselves in certain ways of reasoning (which are beneath the female height) that are responsible for giving the female gender a prestigeless status. This has to do with a mental state of reasoning and expression which is reduced in scope and it is this state of reasoning that has mammothly cobwebbed so many females' freedom and ability to be independent and express their strength.

In moment's shift, Amidst the mist Of the soul, Life will drift Away But what will be left Is the good man's strong wrist.