day after day

If I fail to live to your taste I'm just trying to follow my faith, to you, I am nothing but a child, so little, so blind. If I fail to follow your steps to me,there is nothing more to fake, I'm just trying to be me, I guess I have the right to be free. If you think I will be better being you you might as well think this too to me, there is no better word to say, than being me day after day.

what do they tell you about me?

I tried to explain my style, I sit up chatting and "gesting" I Walk up a few miles to radio my presence, everything is just fine my mind keep telling me, do you understand my slangs? what do they tell you about me? But my eyes is fix on my pen waiting for your answers, what is wrong with our people?

My Dear Nigeria

I wanted to write you a poem about our dreams, so that you could sing along as you grow older by the day. I wanted to post your greatness across our boundaries, so that people could appreciate your beauty and realise our values. I wanted to critise everything I could, thinking I Was not part of the blame, but as I start writing this letter, a voice from no where ask me this question " If no be Naija, where?

Explanations

If I could develop my own style and give it a name,
Or draw my lines just to suit my styles,
maybe you could liken me to be self centered,
just to fulfil your self ego.

If Love was only a word,
and we could say it without minding
the meaning, maybe the consequency will only be defined by us,
since we could twist the meaning to suit our own style.

If I was your only brother or your true friend,
and you love me just as you proclaim,
maybe by now, my voice will be on BBC, CNN or VOA.
Just to show the world that you have a brother like me.

Tell Goodluck

Some pains may never be forgotten
even when the wound is no longer fresh,
we pretend, We laugh, yet Joy is no where to be found.

Please tell Goodluck Jonathan,
if you see him passing through your window in his new private jet,
to subsidy his talks with actions,
to protect his pride with humility
and to zero his mind from hydrapology.

Tell him that,
Sometimes our basket cannot hold our tears though we cry,
Sometime we may be pregnant with tears, though we smile,
Sometimes our villages may be filled with broken promise, yet we hope.
But then, our hope may never be enough, though we believe.

Tell him softly as I say, no fumbling,
with a little seasoning, pepper, sweat,
as a price for unity,
but with tears to protect our integrity.

Please tell him,
to remember his beginning, though he may be shy
and to be a good man, no shaking,
as we plan to live together in style.

Freedom

Yes, we were right,
I dance, you dance,
then it call for question, interogation, manipulation and segregation,
but as we stood prepared to die,
so it's seem,
you reminded us of our tales,customs and tradition,
yes, everyone has a right to tell, smile, cry, live and die,
offcourse, that's the true meaning of life.

Mournful Melodies

I live most time like I never did,
I take a step, think my concience,
and the rest willing and hoping to live more.
Sometimes my thought can never be wrong,
but my conscience think differently,
more days for me is a miracle, a dream, a song and a story to tell.
For living is fun, dying I cannot tell,
yet some people who breath this same air
by choice or chance fall on another without any pity.
To me, we still breath this same air
despite all this hatred and corruption,
for if I live one more day after now,
my thought will never change,
living and loving you is all I want