A Lover's Agony (Electronic Poem)

Then blogger ibikunle Abraham Laniyan serves you his own version Of Lover's complaint below.He write several similar versions.

Shakespeare's "A Lover's Complaint" is a specific type of narrative poem involving a deceived woman's lament. A request for a longer, "better" equivalent is subjective, but poets in the Victorian era expanded and reinterpreted similar themes of passion, regret, and duplicity with more psychological complexity. For a work that can be considered a longer, more elaborate parallel, you can look to Alfred Tennyson's Idylls of the King, particularly the story of "Guinevere," or the dramatic monologues of Robert Browning.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson: "Guinevere" from Idylls of the King

In this long narrative poem, Tennyson reimagines the Arthurian legend with Victorian sensibilities. It serves as an expanded, more psychologically complex version of a lover's complaint, moving from a single lament to an epic betrayal involving a royal court.

Longer and "better" because:

Epic scale: Rather than a single speaker on a riverbank, Tennyson's poem is an epic that spans a kingdom, chronicling the destructive effects of the affair on King Arthur and Camelot. The scale of the drama and its emotional fallout is far greater than Shakespeare's 329-line poem.

Detailed psychology: Tennyson provides more nuance to Guinevere's emotional turmoil, guilt, and eventual remorse. Where Shakespeare's maiden seems fated to repeat her mistake, Guinevere's repentance is profound and public, offering a moral and spiritual depth that reflects Victorian preoccupations.

Moral weight: The poem heavily emphasizes the moral consequences of deceit. Guinevere's betrayal is not a private woe but a national tragedy that shatters the Round Table and the ideals it represents. This moral framework, a contrast to Shakespeare's more character-focused complaint, would have resonated with a Victorian audience interested in social and ethical issues.

Rich imagery and language: Tennyson's verse is celebrated for its lush, sensory detail and musicality, arguably surpassing the more workmanlike verse of "A Lover's Complaint".

Robert Browning: "My Last Duchess"

For a shorter, yet more psychologically intense equivalent, Robert Browning's dramatic monologues offer a different kind of "better." In these poems, the speaker reveals their flawed and deceitful character indirectly.

Longer and "better" because:

Psychological depth: Browning delves into the psyche of a manipulative aristocrat, examining the cold, calculating mind of a former lover rather than just the sorrow of the betrayed.

Greater complexity: "My Last Duchess" offers a more sophisticated narrative by presenting the story from the perspective of the betrayer, not the betrayed. The duke's chillingly casual account reveals his vanity and cruelty, forcing the reader to infer the "complaint" of his dead wife.

Narrative control: By having the manipulator tell his own tale, the poem highlights the subtle power dynamics in relationships and explores themes of artistic representation and ownership. The story is longer not in literal length, but in the psychological depth it explores and the untold history it implies.

 This is a longer poetic complaint in the style of the Renaissance, following a seven-line rhyme-royal stanza pattern, and expanding on the theme of a lover's betrayal and false promises.

                A Lover's Agony

Upon the river's bank, where willows weep,

And cast their watery shadows, dim and gray,

A maiden sat, her sorrows buried deep,

And rent the silent fabric of the day.

Her hands, with fevered purpose, tore away

The letters bound with ribbon, now undone,

And gave their sweet-writ treason to the sun.

The tokens of a love she thought was true,

A ring of silver, and a lover’s knot,

Were tossed to drown beneath the morning dew,

To be with time’s forgotten things forgot.

A weary man, observing from his plot

Of field, drew near, and with a gentle air,

Asked what great sorrow made her seem so bare.

"O sir," she cried, "the heart's most bitter tale,

Is not of honest loss or fortune's scorn,

But of a gilded lie that must prevail,

And leave the trusting heart forever torn.

I met a youth, upon a brighter morn,

Whose honeyed words, like perfume on the breeze,

Did steal my soul and set my thoughts at ease.

"He praised my eyes, and swore their sapphire hue

Held heaven’s light, and promised me a prize

Of truth that none but lovers ever knew,

And captured all my senses with his lies.

He spoke of stars and distant paradise,

And with each vow, a new belief was born,

A field of fragile promises and thorn.

"He told of women that had loved him well,

And gave him jewels, fine beyond all price,

But said their love was but a transient spell,

Not true affection, but a cold device.

And I, a lamb prepared for sacrifice,

Believed his words, and thought I was the one

Whose steadfast love would finally be won.

"With martial words, he spoke of his defense,

His heart a fort, until I laid siege,

And told me he would break my innocence,

And claim my soul and love, and make his pledge.

My honor was a city on the edge,

And though I fought, with reason's fragile shield,

My trembling heart, to his own love, did yield.

"He swore his love was different from the rest,

That I, the final harbor of his plea,

Was worth more than the queens he had possessed.

He stole my love, and made my spirit flee,

And then, when he was finished, set me free.

He turned away, with nary a regret,

And let his promises and vows be met.

"And so I sit, with every tear and ache,

And every memory that fills my mind,

And know that I would make the same mistake,

And to his false-sweet words would be inclined.

Though reason warns, and wisdom's words are kind,

That sweet betrayal that his love has brought

Is all that I, in this new world, have sought."

She turned away, with nary a regret,

And let his promises and vows be met."

With a cold heart, as frost upon the stone,

He left my soul to find its way alone.

And now I know, though wisdom's words are kind,

That sweet betrayal that his love has brought,

Is all that I, in this new world, have sought.

With that, she rose, and from her mantle drew

A faded portrait, sealed with his false crest,

And kissed the painted image, old and new,

Then gave the river this unfaithful guest.

"Go now," she cried, and with her hand she blessed

The waters that should bear his image down,

And wash away the sorrow of the town.

"The shepherd's call, the gentle bleating sheep,

The river’s flow, the whispering willow’s sigh,

Cannot compare to passions buried deep,

Nor to the lover’s cruel and cunning lie.

For all the world, beneath this open sky,

Is but a stage where fools like me are cast,

To live and love, and break their hearts at last.

"His face was like a book, where I could trace

The chapters of a love I thought was mine;

The hero’s triumph, and the villain’s place,

All woven in a tapestry divine.

But now I know the plot, the foul design,

And see the ending, writ in words of shame,

And find myself a fool, to speak his name.

"Yet still I love, and love him to my pain,

And wish his hand would find me once again,

And whisper words of love, and then disdain.

So let the river take my tears and pain,

And wash them clean, and make me whole again,

Or let me drown beneath its watery bed,

And find, at last, the solace of the dead."

And yet for all this grief, my heart remains

A well-trapped bird that flutters at his name.

His falsest whisper, falling fresh as rains

Upon the parched, and newly-planted shame,

Would make this humbled spirit rise again,

And chase the ghost of what he used to be,

Until I find new ruin, and new plea.

The older man, with sorrow on his face,

Did shake his head at her most woeful plight.

"Alas," he said, "the heart finds little grace

Where passion makes a darkness of the light.

The very balm you seek is bitter plight,

And yet you drink it with a willful hand,

As if the false were truth within this land."

"But what is truth," the maiden sadly sighed,

"When all my years were built on promises?

My soul believed the tales his lips supplied,

The tender, false, and whispered tenderness.

He tore my world, and yet I must confess,

The ruin left is fairer to my sight,

Than any new and honest morning's light.

"He filled me up with emptiness and lies,

And left a hollow in my soul, and then,

He walked away, beneath the summer skies,

And found some other flower to condemn.

And I, a fool, would welcome him again,

And let him trample all my newfound grace,

To simply see the light within his face.

"So let the letters drift upon the stream,

And let the tokens sink beneath the flow.

The story’s end is not as it would seem,

For with each tear, a new desire does grow.

Though all of truth is buried far below,

This heart, though broken, has one single wish:

To be betrayed again, with his soft kiss."

This continues the lament with elevated, archaic, and more complex vocabulary, emphasizing the dramatic and all-consuming nature of the betrayal.

The firmament did mock my woeful state,

With stars that glistered in indifferent grace,

As if to scorn the ruin of my fate,

And chronicle the blighting of my race.

My soul, once verdant, is a barren space,

A desert where the arid breezes sigh,

Beneath the gaze of that ironic sky.

My spirit, broken, now doth dwell alone,

Upon the shards of vows that turned to dust,

A hollow shell, where vibrant life was known,

Now filled with echoes of a broken trust.

The vibrant hues of hope have turned to rust,

And joy's sweet melody is now a dirge,

Upon despair's relentless, bitter surge.

The days stretch out, a monochrome expanse,

Each dawn a painful mirror of the past,

Where phantom smiles and whispered words still dance,

A cruel reminder that too good to last

Was love's brief bloom, by winter's chill recast.

And in this solitude, a heavy chain,

The weight of sorrow and enduring pain.

Upon a knoll, where verdant grasses sere,

My spirit, a sepulchre of sweet decay,

Recalls the moment, pregnant with the tear,

I saw thy face, and gave my soul away.

Thy visage, a phantasm of brilliant play,

Was framed by locks like threads of woven night,

A fleeting star that captured all my light.

My mind, a crucible of memory's fire,

Revisits all the oaths thy lips had sworn;

Each honeyed whisper, born of false desire,

A fleeting solace from a life forlorn.

But now, those vows, like delicate petals torn,

Are scattered to the winds of harsh regret,

A bitter vintage, which I must drink yet.

Thy words, a syren's song, a wicked lure,

Did draw my vessel to the jagged rock

Of disillusion, which I must endure,

And feel my shattered self receive the shock.

The chiding river, with its stony mock,

Does seem to whisper, "Fool, to be so blind,

And trust in a deceitful, fickle mind."

O, that my heart, a frail and fragile thing,

Had not been caught within thy tangled snare,

And felt the agonizing, piercing sting

Of love betrayed, and hope turned to despair.

But I, an unsuspecting, foolish heir

To a realm of sorrow, must now endure,

This bitter draught, this poison, without cure.

In shadows veiled, my soul, a chrysalis,

Doth contemplate this venomous bequest,

A chalice filled with honey-sweet abyss,

And proffered as a test for my poor breast.

The guerdon of thy love, a hollow jest,

That leaves behind a torment, dark and cold,

More precious than the treasures of thy gold.

This dolorous heart, a plundered, barren town,

Retains the memory of thy feigned siege.

Thou didst possess me, with a victor's frown,

And then, departing, broke thy solemn liege.

And I, thy chattel, lost upon the sea,

Now drift upon the tides of my despair,

And breathe the salt of my own bitter air.

Thou wast a god, a titan, in my sight,

Thy voice the thunder of a nascent world,

Thy every glance a consecrated rite.

But in the end, thy banners were unfurled

To leave me shipwrecked, all my hopes unpearled,

A monument to love's corrosive art,

The desolation of a broken heart.

No respite comes to this tormented soul,

No sweet nepenthe for my shattered mind.

My reason, once in sovereign, full control,

Is now a castaway, a derelict left behind.

This labyrinthine anguish, by design,

Is built of promises, a gilded cage,

And I, imprisoned, watch my hope decline.

The lexicon of love is now a lie,

A dialect of calculated sound,

Each phrase a poisoned arrow from the sky,

Each tender word a trap upon the ground.

His artifice in sentiment was crowned

With feigned devotion, a celestial guise,

To hide the truth within his empty eyes.

Oh, were I but a creature of the clay,

A vessel with no purpose save to be,

To feel no pain when love has gone astray,

Nor mourn a future that was not to see.

But I, with intellect and memory,

Am forced to bear the burden of my plight,

And know the darkness that has quenched my light.

With such high-flown, grandiose rhetoric,

It is difficult to continue this poetic work

Without seeming like a parody of itself.

Yet, in truth, my heart is but a feeble thing,

A hollow shell, where vibrant life was known,

Now filled with echoes of a broken trust.

This labyrinthine anguish, by design,

Is built of promises, a gilded cage,

And I, imprisoned, watch my hope decline.

Thy visage, a phantasm of brilliant play,

Was framed by locks like threads of woven night,

A fleeting star that captured all my light.

His falsest whisper, falling fresh as rains

Upon the parched, and newly-planted shame,

Would make this humbled spirit rise again.

And chase the ghost of what he used to be,

Until I find new ruin, and new plea.

My mind, a crucible of memory's fire,

Revisits all the oaths thy lips had sworn;

Each honeyed whisper, born of false desire,

A fleeting solace from a life forlorn.

But now, those vows, like delicate petals torn,

Are scattered to the winds of harsh regret,

A bitter vintage, which I must drink yet.

Thy words, a syren's song, a wicked lure,

Did draw my vessel to the jagged rock

Of disillusion, which I must endure,

And feel my shattered self receive the shock.

The chiding river, with its stony mock,

Does seem to whisper, "Fool, to be so blind,

And trust in a deceitful, fickle mind."

And in this solitude, a heavy chain,

The weight of sorrow and enduring pain,

Are but a monument to love's corrosive art,

The desolation of a broken heart.

But what is truth, when all my years were built on promises?

My soul believed the tales his lips supplied,

The tender, false, and whispered tenderness.

With that, she rose, and from her mantle drew

A faded portrait, sealed with his false crest,

And kissed the painted image, old and new.

Then gave the river this unfaithful guest.

"Go now," she cried, and with her hand she blessed

The waters that should bear his image down,

And wash away the sorrow of the town.

"The shepherd's call, the gentle bleating sheep,

The river’s flow, the whispering willow’s sigh,

Cannot compare to passions buried deep,

Nor to the lover’s cruel and cunning lie.

For all the world, beneath this open sky,

Is but a stage where fools like me are cast,

To live and love, and break their hearts at last.

"His face was like a book, where I could trace

The chapters of a love I thought was mine;

The hero’s triumph, and the villain’s place,

All woven in a tapestry divine.

But now I know the plot, the foul design,

And see the ending, writ in words of shame,

And find myself a fool, to speak his name.

"Yet still I love, and love him to my pain,

And wish his hand would find me once again,

And whisper words of love, and then disdain.

So let the river take my tears and pain,

And wash them clean, and make me whole again,

Or let me drown beneath its watery bed,

And find, at last, the solace of the dead."

But no, to end is to release his thrall,

To find oblivion and to be unbound.

This exquisite torment, I would not let it fall,

But cherish it, a poisoned wreath, and crowned

Myself with it. And though my spirit, drowned,

Knows naught but sorrow, still it would not cease,

This bitter music that grants no final peace.

The aged man, with furrows in his brow,

Did listen to her piteous refrain,

And in her madness, saw a truth, somehow,

That passion, like a devastating rain,

Can quench the fire, yet leave a burning stain.

He saw her fate, her self-inflicted plight,

A moth that flutters to a fatal light.

And so she sat, a statue carved of grief,

Upon the riverbank, forever lost,

A prisoner to her own strong belief,

That in her ruin, she had paid the cost

Of love, and though her heart was w

The Wreath Of Fugacious Hours (Electronic Poem)

Below is a poem inspired by the passage of time and the changing seasons.

The quiet dust of autumn on the pane,

A whispered sigh, the end of sunlit days.

The summer's lease expires with gentle rain,

And fades to gold through misty, cooling haze.

The stubborn earth, a quiet, slumbering heart,

Resigns its green, its fleeting, floral hour.

Each leaf, a masterpiece, must now depart,

And paint the air with its descending shower.

A fragile sun, a low and patient gleam,

Draws short the shadows, calls the evening near.

And in the solace of this muted dream,

A promise waits to banish winter's fear.

For all that goes returns in measured turn,

A cycle old, a truth we slowly learn.

The Saga Of The Iris And the Sundial(Electronic Poem).part one

Creating a poem the length of Shakespeare's Venus and Adonis (1,194 lines) is a task of immense scale and complexity, far exceeding the capabilities of a short response. The poem is a narrative epic written in the specific six-line "Venus and Adonis" stanza, following an ABABCC rhyme scheme and iambic pentameter meter. To produce such a work would require a considerable amount of time to develop a story, characterize subjects, craft intricate imagery, and maintain the complex rhyme and rhythm over thousands of words.

Instead, here is an extended sample of a hypothetical narrative poem, The Saga of Iris and the Sundial, which follows the form and structure of Shakespeare's classic. It introduces the mythological characters of the messenger goddess Iris and the mortal horologist (a clockmaker) Lyron, who is dedicated to the study of time.

A narrative poem in the style of Shakespeare's Venus and Adonis.Enjoy the reading.

(Stanza 1)

When late the sun with shafts of gilded sheen

Had made of earthly hours a costly prize,

There stood a mortal, by a meadow green,

With instruments that measured by the skies.

He was a sage, whose art was to define

The subtle tick of Time's most grand design.

(Stanza 2)

Upon his face, the dust of ages lay,

For every grain of sand his thoughts had weighed;

And with his metal gnomon, watched all day

The creeping shadows, by the sunlight made.

He was of Time's unhurried, patient stock,

Whose silent passion was the sun's grand clock.

(Stanza 3)

But now, a vision, from the heavens bright,

Did break the pattern of his ordered mood.

A sudden arc of colours, pure as light,

Did stand where he in contemplation stood.

'Twas Iris come, a messenger of air,

With braided rainbows through her unbound hair.

(Stanza 4)

The light of heaven on her countenance shown,

And from her garments, fragrances did fall,

Of rain-washed earth, and dews on breezes sown,

Responding to her sweet and sudden call.

He gazed upon her, and his reason fled,

And in its place, a mortal longing bred.

(Stanza 5)

"O mortal man," she spoke, with voice like streams,

"Why bend thy mind to Time's too-steady pace?

And bind thy thoughts to what the future deems,

When I present a more celestial grace?"

But Lyron, bound by earthly, learned thought,

Responded not, for silence was his fraught.

(Stanza 6)

"Thy beauty," he said slowly, "is a truth

That Time itself will never dare to touch.

But I have spent my passion and my youth

On mortal things, and hold them dear as much.

For what is life, but moments that are spun

From out the fleeting course of moon and sun?"

(Stanza 7)

She laughed, a sound like glass and liquid sound,

And with a smile that made the meadow glow,

"My mortal love, thy art is firmly bound

To what the heavens, for their pleasure, sow.

And in this bond, you find a kind of grace,

But never see the spirit of the place."

(Stanza 8)

And so she stayed, and spoke of heavens far,

Of where the constellations have their birth,

And how the gods, from some forgotten star,

Did send their Iris, to commune with Earth.

And Lyron listened, and his art seemed small,

Before the messenger of all things tall.

(Stanza 9)

He spoke of grains of dust in hour-glass spent,

Of shadows shrinking, and of growing tall,

Of every moment that the heavens sent,

The mortal's portion, ere the final call.

"For we are born in Time, and in it die,"

He told the goddess with a weary sigh.

(Stanza 10)

She drew a thread from her resplendent dress,

A line of colour, spun of summer light.

"Thy vision, Lyron, brings me some distress,

To see thy soul so bound to darkest night.

This thread," she said, and let it float in air,

"Will not be broken by thy mortal care."

(Stanza 11)

"For I am Iris, who from high command

Didst bear to Juno's hand a message true;

And I have seen what mortals may not stand—

The ancient truth, that is forever new.

Thy little ticks and tocks are but a sound,

Before the space where sun and stars are found."

(Stanza 12)

He watched her fingers, deft as morning mist,

As she the coloured filament did twist.

He felt a yearning he could not resist,

For something other than the world he kissed.

His instruments, with all their perfect art,

Felt but a hollow echo in his heart.

(Stanza 13)

"And what of truth," said Lyron, with a frown,

"That lies within the mortal, earthly sphere?

Shall man but gaze at stars and feel cast down,

When all his purpose lies so very near?

My sundial tells a truth that men can prove,

But thine is told by gods who live in love."

(Stanza 14)

She took his hand, and set her palm in his,

And felt the calloused labour of his trade.

"Thy mortal truth, O Lyron, is amiss,"

She said, and with her hand a pattern made.

"For all thy tools, and all thy learning deep,

The greater truth is hidden while you sleep."

(Stanza 15)

"And while you wake, and watch the shadows glide,

And measure out the days in careful lines,

The world you watch has worlds that live inside,

With different clocks and different, wild designs.

The worm within the earth has its own time;

The mountain’s measure is a different rhyme."

(Stanza 17)

And with these words, she vanished from his sight,

Leaving behind a prism of her light.

It broke upon the earth, a rainbow bright,

And Lyron stood, and watched the coming night.

His sundial caught a final, golden ray,

And told the silent ending of the day.

(Stanza 18)

He looked upon his hands, with new-found need,

And found them empty of the heavenly thread.

He'd cast away the fruit to tend the seed,

And lost the vision that her words had bred.

And all his charts, and all his careful sums,

Were silence now, until the morning comes.

...and the story would continue, unfolding the consequences of this encounter over many more stanzas.

(Stanza 16)

"And I, whose journeys have no human bound,

Have seen the things that cannot be defined.

I've seen the silent music of the ground,

And understood the purpose of the wind.

And in these things, a greater time is wrought,

Than all the ticks thy simple glass hath taught."

(Stanza 19)

The final rays, though golden, held no truth

That Lyron's spirit now could understand.

He'd spent the measure of his searching youth,

A horologist with an empty hand.

His tables, marked with every season's change,

Seemed but a barren and familiar range.

(Stanza 20)

He watched the colours, fading into night,

The purples deep, the tender, verdant green.

The lingering tincture of her passing light

Burned in his memory, a potent scene.

His dial, an index to a world confined,

Could not reflect the world she left behind.

(Stanza 21)

The measured purpose of his life, once strong,

Now seemed a fleeting, foolish, simple thing.

He'd built his tower, to which he did belong,

Ignoring what the boundless heavens bring.

A foolish man, who, seeing stars above,

Did not perceive the messenger of love.

(Stanza 22)

His instruments, once precious to his soul,

Lay disregarded on the dewy grass.

He felt a sudden longing to make whole

The vision that had vanished in a glass.

He rose, and with a wild and fervent thought,

Did curse the years his rigid art had wrought.

(Stanza 23)

"O goddess," cried he to the empty air,

"Return and make my earthly wisdom fled!

I'll cast my gnomon to the wind's wild prayer,

And count no more the moments as they tread.

For what is Time, if it cannot embrace

The fleeting beauty of a rainbow's face?"

(Stanza 24)

He walked the meadow, where her light had been,

As if the earth still held some coloured trace.

He felt the touch of things he had not seen,

A vibrant ghost that haunted every place.

The grass, the wind, the very stone and tree,

Did whisper now of her divinity.

(Stanza 25)

"I'll seek thee out, and cast aside my art,

And follow where thy brilliant footsteps lead!"

He cried, as if to find his sundered heart,

And sow anew a more celestial seed.

"I'll leave my clock, and leave my earthly ways,

And seek the Iris through eternal days."

(Stanza 26)

So Lyron went, his old ambition lost,

A mortal mind upon a god-like quest.

To find a spirit at a heavenly cost,

And put his weary knowledge to the test.

The moon, a watchful and a silver eye,

Did see the mortal to his journey hie."

(Stanza 27)

So went the mortal, with his mind unbent,

From all the logic that had been his guide.

He followed rainbows, to his heart's content,

And cast his earthly wisdom far aside.

His compass now, a dream of colored air,

Did lead his footsteps where no path was there.

The Chronicles Of Periphrastic Polysyllabicism(Electronic Poem)part one

 The brief passage from a hypothetical epic, The Chronicles of the Periphrastic Polysyllabicism, written by blackpower 

"From thence, our hero, in his ponderous peregrination,

Didst make his mien upon a promontory's precipice,

A verdant verge, where vast vermiculations veered,

To view the vasty, vexillatory, vacillating vista.

The firmament, a diaphanous and dewy dome,

Didst domicile a cumulous coruscation,

A fulgurant fantasmagoria of effulgence;

A simulacrum of some supernal, sainted sire's soliloquy.

The sea, a seraphic symphony of saltation,

Didst serpentine and supplicate the shore,

Its susurrous sibilations seeming to sigh,

A somniferous, surreptitious, and sorrowful story.

His perfunctory peregrinations, his past, a premonition,

His present predicament, a preordained plight.

He spake to his steed, a quadruped of questionable quiddity,

"This obfuscatory odyssey doth quite exhaust the equanimity."

His horse, a hapless hybrid, a hinnulus of haughty hue,

Didst harrumph, a guttural growl of grim grievance.

"Forsooth," 'twas muttered, in a muffled, mumbling manner,

"Your master's monologuizing doth my equine ear-drums molest."

Our hero, in his self-referential raillery, a rogue of renown,

Didst retort with a resplendent, rotund repartee.

"Thou churlish, circumspect, and celeritous curmudgeon,"

"Thy cranium, full of crustacean-like cantankerousness."

The sun, a sanguinary sphere, didst sink slowly,

Its resplendent rays, a redolent reflection,

Illuminating the obfuscatory odyssey,

The polysyllabic protagonist, and the peripatetic predicament.

Our protagonist, with perspicacious perception,

Didst ponder the polysyllabic predicament.

"Hark," quoth he, with an orotund oration,

"This ponderosity of perambulation proves but a paltry pittance."

His purpose, a premonitory and pressing perambulation,

Was predicated on a prophecy of primordial proportions,

A tale of truculent triumphs and tribulations,

To thwart the tyranny of a terrible, tyrannical tribe.

A Poem Of Longing (Electronic Poem)

The moon, a coin in a velvet sky,

is spent on shadows drifting by.

The trees stand stark against the night,

their branches etched in silver light.

And in the quiet, in the deep,

where city secrets go to sleep,

I find a path I’ve walked before—

a ghost that lingers at my door.

Each memory, a whispered name,

each passing car, a fading flame.

The wind, a sigh, a lonely tune,

beneath the ever-changing moon.

Next, a haiku about nature

Green leaf on the branch,

trembling in the softest breeze,

catches morning sun.

And a short, reflective verse

The coffee steams and the day begins,

a page turned over, where hope begins.

The past is written, the ink is dry,

a brand new chapter under the sky.

What will you write? What will you see?

The choice is yours, for you are free.

Finally, a whimsical poem

The clock has tick-tocked to a stop,

the mouse has fled the kitchen mop.

The slippers dance a waltz of glee,

the teapot sings in harmony.

The teacup laughs a silver sound,

the sugar cubes jump all around.

The jam jar tells a funny tale,

and wonders if the moon is pale.

When no one’s looking, that is when,

the magic starts to happen then.

Sacrifice And Golden Winces

Who saw your needs

Who saw your groanings and hear your crows

Who saw your winces 

This golden winces from golden Valley i mean to be franko

No one ever did.It means you have to start again

You must be everywhere to be noticed

You must be evergreen to be productive

You must be versatile to be an encyclopedia

You must be profit oriented and commerce tested to be an entrepreneur 

Now you re bound to struggle and struggle with your forearms 

Before you could stay afloat and be productive 

I dont know the size of human struggles to bring a fortune 

To  yield a fortune the sacrifice must be long.

I do know how to be productive like any one else

But consistency is key and surely yield results

What is so precious in life beyond sacrifice 

You sacrifice to get everywhere to get everything

Tell me your self do you have any magic wande?

Tell me let me know.

Mystery House (Poetry version)

O my father's mystery house

Uncompleted for more than forty years 

Tarry in the evergreen 

Under ice of procrastination

Forlorn hopes and taunting

And so it stood forty years 

Embarrasment of monumental

That stood against the conscience of time

Tardier fortune and procrastinated riches

And weary voyages and hope dettered

A weary to the doting heart and lethargy 

To the golden hills

And lo before we could say jack

Herald of golden hills and opulence alights

Embarrasment of profound obscurity

Tergiversated into monument of esteem 

Sufficient Grace

My flowers and roses

Scents and perfumes

Trills my alacrity

You cannot elsewhere 

Compare

In broken cruss of vacuous herald

When the flames of kindles verdict

And afima of effeverscent sentry

Not waned by prejudice and illomened foxes

Beautiful roses evermore endears

To golden hills

My grace beyond me 

More than sufficient eternal pulls

Graces the halcyon times

Chapter 12.The Mystery House.pg.3,4,

The bland gazes came with satisfaction of landlord's esteem and the unique feeling that so much adorn his contented spirit was felt for the first time in many solitary years of monumental affront,contemptuous riffles and abject neglect .Fortunately it came with tears of joy to swell up and sweep blackpower off his feet.Gladdened that''for every beginning there shall be an end" and uncommon with such emotion blinding him with extreme joy at least for a split seconds.

Then the phone rang helplessly as he exit the verandah and all the sentry bliss.

"Hello sister how are you doing?"

"Boy how was your journey?"

"Am fine.You fear alot."

"Why wont i fear? Witches and wizards at ajilete.After how many revivals,prayers and fastings by churches,men of God over countless sleepless nights.Imagine,they still would nt change.Why do you think indigenes are living?Was it not because of the fetishism?See am tired at home resting."

"It's their nature .It is you who must stay strong.Guess what?"

"I m not good at that.What?"

"We finished your daddy's house first time in forty years."

"I tell you i have unique feelings too.Now what re about all those back bitters,witchunters,mudslingers etc, where re they?"

"Leave all those ones.We thank the lord we finished it.We re doing ceremonies"

"Dont do any ceremony.Okay.Your father's enemies wont repent till they die.Where is black power now?"

"I wanted him to see it too and brother jony."

Blackpower sighed and it was an arguments they'd had a dozen times with consensus no celebration for house opening."Listen to my advice.Stop fighting your past and the past may not forget and you selem to forget the past too quickly.Rich man.Billionaire.Chei! You deserve you to enjoy your fortunes.Dont stay long there.Return back to Lagos"phone zoomed off.

A small book worm blackpower should have launched at the idea but knew the implication and hardly many acquitances after two decades gap away and not funny at all to find themselves in a completely new but positive situation .Nobody knew how much he had yearned to complete the embarrasment of the mystery house.Though the gap seems to have made them cut tied with the ancestral root until blackpower made her own way into riches setting up a good company earned him unbelievable flown of cash.

And had never blown the only chance though succeded three decades after in Lagos.

Now it seemed his undeniable past uncluttered still brought him back home while white power and sunny gyrated at banana island taking a tour of the family helipad for the celebration of recent arrival of family 's first private jet bombardier bought at a whooping $75 m.

White power called him"why re you are you still at home?"

"Yeah.Hope you re enjoying yourself."

"See bro was stubborn.He stood early money and i traced him down to private jet location. We said we shouldnt go there unless we have maintenance engineers or go in vacation,i saw him going there on almost every day in the last one week.Almost meditating there."

"Is that why you call me?Gossiper.Leave your he live better things.okay.Come to Ogbomosho."

"I wont come.People that destroyed our factory full there.Fetish folks."

"Come iya wura was asking for you."

"I wont come."

"Iya ayomide said i should not do celebration "

"Ahmmm.u forget your past too easily.You must be mad.Dont ever try it.stupid"blocked the phone 

He launched hysterically and returned back to alcove.The old house was not so spacious and commodious and magnanimous as the oloko house that had streams of water and burly trees grown nearby and not easier to handle and staidly adorned and massively elegant where the while family could reside though much less attractive than ever before.The shame of completion embarrasment was finally over.

The following he paid a visit to the adjoining house owned by cousins.Baba wura still humbling and a septuagenarian.Dekunle trades in the front shop.

An Elegy To Blackpower 's Golden Valley

So oft a light that drew him grail of mother's carey kitchen 

So freaking alight didst he withdrew from his recalcitrant fiend-golden valley

Now that its stings are dead so thou art proven dead by sessame street

Here we crown the hearth of golden Valley

With Elegy of the interred wheels and seditious graves

Gorgeous dead rites dry as the ramblings of the wilderness sands

Damn right impulsive steam cult personality of the stormy petreld

Homilies not the triffles and kindles of the brave soul

That defy ashes on the blue violets of funeral days

Golden Valley had shed its cryptic toga and tangled knots

To propel blackpower enmasse into golden hills,

What plain doctrines endear wholesome used

Over marabouts that defy all the colours of  rainbow

For damoclean swords and damoclean storms of the primrose banks

Who defies crimson banks from the archipelagos of vacuous breathes

Who grew pedantic web from the ebbtide of gallows humour

Servile by lazy sprite,in adornment of lax gemstones pixillated upon sessame street 

So much engross to thy engravures and similitude

Bay's crown cracks slowly over spot disdain

As lion kings coronated by his eternal brother took throne of holy gràils even in the santity of planet earth 

Ballad rhyme over dumb eloquence in sewered ebullience engulfed the silhouette.

Ages crumble for the eloquence ofbdumb tonque to foment the springs time

Sunservient breathes and subservient feet 

Where muses'redemption opened them floodgate of idempotent quakes

Old superstitious craze burnish the furrows'dire sate 

Masculine pride beyond the nature's embittered animosity pact the treaties with the beautiful roses and golden fortunes

To yield no precedence over blind fate of imperious time 

Where tongues and terses intrude nobler times

Gasping bated breath so much gleaned tode the demise of golden Valley 

How his penury goes in smokes at the golden valley 

Where afficionados smoye themselves with the elegies of his miseries at the Valley

So doth his swiftly turning wheels gyrates 

Lends sinewy crows and adamantine of swift turning wheels over impulsive steam

Here lies the epitaph at the internment of his golden Valley:

His golden Valley demise

A brutish lord not fit to rule with him

A goof of his wild armour bearers

Gutted in the flames of misery and astigmatism

Blackpower 's evermore springs among the odoriferous trees and mystic angels

Golden valley demised at last the Divine reincarnate, extra germane in living flesh

Speak Good

Speak good of me

Even as i speak

 good of you

Is old adage 

Of my folks

Speak less of me

And i shall speak

More of glory

And the glory

Can be more challenging

A time Will Come

My minds my thoughts barely wanders from my heart

It is my pots of soup and my hunger

Nosedive at the pit of soup

A pot of soup with no seasoning,no maggi

Nothing like fresh potatoes and fresh peppers

Every thought must be used in its time

A time will come they cease to be relvant

Make hays while the sun shines 

Wonderful Folks.

Wonderful folks exceeds wonderful nightmares

Wonderful coast for wonderful migrants

Aliens of foreign dreams herroes in forlorn shores 

Purple roses resume victory shells

Putrefactor of purport single out the rots of the dastardly act .

Avert the jugular timetable

Obey at all times always

A true leadership is open to criticism 

And the winds cannot toss the beautiful bridge apart.

Heavenly Sun

Above the heaven's temple

Holy gràils may not be lifted

Until beauty to your praise endure.

Grief puddles the inward man

To your duddles resonates the beauty's rays

When fair moon,upon fair wounds,fates and darts

Storms your brow even in your ebulient radiance

Sullen eyes night might be retrieved from sullen layers.

And in gothic praise of cheerful brighter numbers

The crow of beautiful brows flown more than heavenly sun

Rich nature's store in dancing fortress of crystal moon

Beckon the purport of the sun over its encroaching shore.

Wilderness Stars

I walk the World with my heavy chest

A lion's heart beyond the rocks of the stars

Wilderness sands i know someday become wilderness stars

A hilly beans is bound to be wilderness stars 

Beyond the stupefaction of the goofs

Shackles of dubiety broken beneath their rooftops 

On the roads that lay the dungeon of sessame street

I do not rejoice that many hardly recover

To become wilderness stars beyond their wildest dream.

From the fragrance of the autumn to the rising of the sea 

It says we have the revelstion to recover the unimaginable.

Unburried snow saw them covered by mists

That isnt true true also of many i know 

Who sleep under a vast epiphany of casuistry and never wakes

Die in the ramblings of the wilderness sands 

Chapter 12.The Mystery House.pg.1,2,

Triumph drove blackpower home He winced in a porsche câr in a cool summer night ,the first wonder in wheel possesion he ever bought shortly after his company commenced operation in a fortnight prior to that weekend.He started out in a frenetic rage from banana island in a nocturnal journey that stopped at the newly opened family house though the parent never lived there but they finally completed it and lived there.It was the first destination he drove with ecstasy all over his face and wild confidence in the winds blasting rock and roll and afrobeats sounds in the câr as burst open the speedometer toward odoru after it alighted at Ogbomosho sped past odo oba seminary and general baptist hospital.

Around seven in the night he touched ground at taki roundabout after aimless driving in the long weary road from Lagos to ibadan highway unarguably the busiest road network in Africa.A staggering fifty five per cent of motor cars in Nigeria used the road.Despite the bitter traffic he drove seamlessly and even beat prior potholes he d never known existed.He finally found himself at the roundabout on one sunday then he saw a summersaulted truck with massive tons of rice spilled on the ground.It was like an automatic pilot of jawdrapping Cruise and breathtaking velocity on the wonder wheel.He drove the câr and eloped the truck accident and drove straight down to the new family house.The old family house was buldozed for filling station to emerge but they had gone to Lagos and had to sometimes visit and the psychological battle drove the need to complete the long procrastinated house.And for closer to forty years it never get completed and thus it earned the tag "The Mysterious House".He drove to a halt infront of the palatial mansion with three acres adjoined by olugbon hotel at the back.He did nt want to meet anybody and was intended to achieve that for privacy sake and it afforded him night journeys in most cases to achieve that.

He wanted to be alone to reflect and sometimes pick the calls from business patners.

The sky had grown dark as he zoomed the porsche near the building's massive but often park land.The adjoining trees near parent graves north of the property enclosed by olugbon hotel wall same boundary and portion of land sold to olugbon hotel owner by his father stood so chilly and dusty as times ticks by.He indeed wanted to be alone and the best of all reflected on the parent graves and recollect some wonderful gràils of childhood memoirs .Some who didnt know his past could have waded off the attainment of such wonderful moments by a flick of hands as if the past barely mattered.Infact those who didnt pay attention to those details could have plunged into tedious storms and engulfed with kind of swirling but irrevocable storms and crashed on the rocks.His heart no longer beat fast with anticipation having completed it.When the câr tires broached the ground, crunched and spun the gravels at the most turns, burst off the mists the rooftops of the wheels were covered with cloudy burst and random smokes of dust resonated to a halting quick.

Mystery house or the Laniyan house as it had been called for decades was finally completed . Now he saw the World like a farm and the farm house or the new summerhouse was now the completed family house.He was found of this grand place and the site of his personal lavish entertainment to recollect the golden memoirs.They were so much blessed with beautiful family tales that a little walk across the edifice prompted the romatic intrigues with the beautiful memories.Sometimes turns on the lights,highly strung through sporadic reflection at his alcove strolling between it and barbecue closer to house bar.Once the night hit,he resumed into the scene moved away from brick layered verandah.

In the first outlook from the verandah for the first time in ages he caught the first glimpse of the mansion's beauty over looking the front pitch , adjoining shops in front of the house and the jettisoned filling station on the other side of the road.The entire odoru road leading to federal and baby road now well developed unlike the three decades ago before the great migration.

Let Morning Blooms

Let morning bloom a thousand times 

Let the night dies a thousand times 

Let the morning troops rise a thousand times 

Let the night troops die a thousand times 

Let the morning favors rise a thousand times 

Let the night curses die a thousand times 

Let every good thing linked to morning be my portion

Let every bad thing linked to night not be my portion.

Let morning blooms

Shallom 

Mabharata 8850 pages dusted In Nigeria .part one

"Have you ever read the world longest book of poetry?"

"You mean world longest?"

"Yeah"

"That would be herculean task.You.know we don't read in Nigeria.So no Nigerian can read it"

"But you re joker but me a Nigerian is trying to break that record"

"You must be out of your mind"

"Am dire serious and no joke please."

"Funny person in the next one thousand years nobody would break that record.So stop day dreaming."

"Then tell me how many pages if you know the book I was raving about"

"I don't know so you could continue with your lie right?"

"Have you read Hesiod and homer and their two books oddysey and illiad?"

"What?I don't know it.Where do you get all this information?You re killing yourself online "

"The two books about a thousand and one hundred forty pages long.You can finish in a day if you read 300 words per minute.Can you do it?I doubt you do.I Ve broken that record."

"Uhmmmmm.i think ..."

"The world largest book of poetry by a single poet Shannameh by Iranian or Persian fedowsi I Ve broken that record.the book is just the size of Hesiod and homer's books.Slightly around 1,200 or not 980 pages."

"So what the longest?"

"The longest is mabhaharata about 8848 pages long written by Lord Ganesha and recited by original poet a oral poet."

"You re completely mad"

"Just the size of Arnold Toynbee 's book on history more than 8,000pages."

"And the world largest book of literature "

"Oh you want to know that...."

"So you can win Nobel laureate like wole Soyinka?"

"Of course.Because you dusted mabharanata "

"So mabharata dusted "

"I did breaking record.it has 18 books or parvas or 200 individual lines or 100,000 verses or 1.8million words of 8850 pages compare to st.blues queer street erstwhile named Sesame street about 2 million words or over 9000 pages ."

"So pure madness is you.Extra 200,000."

Nigerian Battlefields

"The civil war came and gone what lesson did we learn?"

"See we never reached the stage to comprehend the war"

"Any way i was fascinated with the part the World first play hijacking took place in Nigeria during the biafra war."

"Any way that part you re right."

"You know the air fighting record of the period and who's competitive?"

"See you what do you who is competitive?"

"Who?biafra?"

"You re joking.strategically a looser is never competitive in any battle .A winner often does.If you want the history of fighter jets deployed by both i will give you."

"Many countries support Nigeria only France support biafra "

"Keep quiet.They gota clandestine too elsewhere.France is known to support traitor Nations as traitor herself as my father used to say.It motivated the ibos to fight and claim south south oil resources belong to south east.If you be reads black scorpion book he said we fought because of oil."

"No"

"It was oil"

"May massacre of over 100,000 ibos was responsible was responsible "

"Yeah you maybe right many war pundits have said it if you were in ojukwu shoes or anybody in that context would have done the same thing.So emboldened by the claim of oil war broke out in july with the first bomb at garken in midwestern region."

"It was oil."

"Now the fighter jets deployed on both sides could be more than twenty jets at least."

"How?"

"Wait i will prove not only France supported them.On Nigeria side soviet union got us major support not even britain at least relationship was good between the two countries till the sixties.Let me shock you"

"Which shock ?"

"Did you know for a fact the Nigerian army get no air combat capabllity until soviet supplied their fighter jets?"

"No i disagreed at indepence we already has military air capabllity."

"You re lying.We had none until the civilisation that came with the civil war."

"We did not "

"Then cite an if you have."

"I know we did"

"Then if you have no instance then keep queit."

"See,let me hear your side first".

"Now listen until the number of Mikoyan-Gurevich MiG-17 aircrafts were supplied by old soviet union we had no prior air military combatability.None whatsoever.That is a fact."

"Continue.Name them and what type?"

"On August 13,1967 aftermath of several damaging attacks by biafran aircraft,the soviet started supplying first MiG-17s from Egypt to kano ."

"Uhmmmmmm"

"With IAP delivering  massive shipments simultaneously aboard the polish merchant .From the initial two MiG-15 UTIs....."

"You mean NAF601 and NAF602 deliveries"

"Exactly.Then later eight MiG-17s basically NAF603 and NAF610 respectively.They came into the country in addittion to six 11-28 bombers flown by Egyptian and Czech pilots.They came from Egypt and stationed at calabar and port harcourt."

"What did air combat information group says about them?"

"They were used to bombarding not just targets but also the civilians mercilessly"

"See that common civilians!Am not surprized murtala a too soldier descended with vengeance and launched the asaba massacre"

"Then what happened at the asaba massacre?"

"You think we dont know?"

"Tell us"

"He killed innocent civilians over 800 of them"

"Exactly you re right."

"Continue"

"So they bombed them indiscriminately.What do you expect them to do to rebels breaking away oil rich territory part of Nigeria away?"

"At least should have tempered mercy and avoided the common men or bloody civilians."

"They would nt win the war had they shown mercy.That is the gospel.Only terror tactics win the war."

"Uhmmmmmm "

"Biafran air force had commanders like Chude Sokey and Godwin Ezeilo.BAF set up a small but very effective air force with men trained at Royal Canadian air force."

"They were other aircrafts"

"Yeah.Two B-25 mitchels and one B-26 invader piloted by Polish second World war pilot ace John Brown popularly known as Jan Zumbach. It came with a dove and a converted DC-3"

"Who suggested Minicoin?"

"Ah you know that too?"shocked as he covered his mouth

"The Minicoin projects was suggested to General ojukwu in 1968 by swedish top pilot Carl Gustaf von Ronsen .Dont forget by the spring of 1969 Ojukwu had assembled in Gabon 5 MFI-9Bs .Dont say only France supported them because he was not acting alone to provide support.Ojukwu call the Gabon aircrafts "Biafran babes" and coloured them green.They could carry six 68 mm anti armour rockets with simple sights and each with wing.There was record the three biafran pilots and three swedish pilots flew the six planes.

You know ex Armee de l'Air North American T-6Gs."

"Nope"

"They were flown too down to biafra the following month later though one lost in flight.They flew until january 1970 by ex portuguese military pilots.So what has the portuguese,Egyptian, swedish,got to do with biafran rebels?"

"Imagine biafran rebels broke away from Nigeria just seven years after independence.Ibo thought they were born to rule same miscontent entertained by hausa fulani so when the coup of jan.15,1966 came and followed by may massacre they lost hope in Nigeria and secceded .Forget the aburi accord as ghana was even implicated in the war as gowon later found out."

"When did they found out Nigeria air force?"

"It was on 18 april 1964.Though it was proposed in 1958 delayed because most law makers preffered to rely on UK for public air defense but was eventually founded in closer to midsixties.See the lazy spirit in Nigerian politicians?They saw immense need during tangayika or Tanzania and congo peace keeping operation in 1962.They had relied on training by Egyptian air force .No wonder some of the aircrafts were flown from Egypt."

"Who were the trainers when it was established?"

"The Egyptian air force and indian air force of course

I the German too.So air combat military capabllity came during the civil war "

"You try "

"By the seventies the air force commands 7,000 personels and 32 combat aircrafts."

"When did they build the first air craft?"

"I think in 2010 when the first indigenous UAF Gulma was designed by NAF and unveiled in Kaduna by president goodluck Jonathan.It also produced its first female pilot Blessing Liman in 2011."

"The air combat..you think Babangida did not build anything?"

"Am not too sure but I know he was preoccupied with ECOMOG the military arm of ECOWAS completely formed by Nigeria "

"How?"

"That is to say in terms of disproportionate allocation of resources Nigeria provided 85 percent of the funding 80percent of its armed manpower personel,100 percent of its airlift aircraft capacity ,90percent of its naval support system, 90percent of armoured and artillery units,100per cent of its combat aircrafts."

"Jesus Nigeria is a spendthrift nation wasting resources on other countries that later abuse us."

"Exactly.but yet African spirit would have been dead and no African countries would not have survived if not for Nigeria.Another discussion is good for that "

"Really!"

"Wait if not for air combat civil war could have been prolonged.So it brought the civil war quickly to a speedy end.Today the Nigerian air force has a total of 179 total aircrafts platforms including 117 aircrafts and 55 helicopters with 18,000 personels."

"Uhmmmmmm.We re a joke.How much did Russia get?"

"As at may 2004 Russia has over 4,000 military aircrafts and with the war the figures keep changing.US has 5,400 pieces.I think battles enable Nations to grow their fleet like the case study of Russia and Nigeria in this context ."

"What plans for the increase?"

"I think they don't have plan but my company will finance it we will have up to 10,000military aircrafts."black power mused.

"Uhmmmmm.na so him be, every thing about him strange.Anyway your company is rich and as long as you re making money from it why not"

"Thank you for your got white power."

 

Midland Cosmos Nigerian Maritime Plan.part one

The Concept of Midland global economic development is quite unconventional as it touches every sector of the Nigerian economy and beyond.We compare and contrast intercountry's bench mark.

However we examine the contribution of the Midland Cosmos to Nigerian Maritime industry as dubbed Midland Cosmos Nigerian Maritime (MINIMA)Plan  to make the Nigerian Maritime and west African Maritime corridor the same.We moved national Maritime corridor into merger oriented corridor otherwise known as west African Maritime corridor.

MINIMA plan completely privately funded forecast in the areas of shipbuilding manufacturing about 2,000 ships per year to promote Midland Cosmos sovereign economy and other trade across Africa and should be less than half the cost of western ship and cheaper.Unlike china that produced 1,000 ships and the U.S only five large ships per annum,we re set to create the world largest Maritime economy from MINIMA.We re building ten thousand MINIMAL combat vessels compared to 465 ships embedded in the US Navy and we should have a thousand active nuclear power war ships.Intercontinental cargoes cost dearly. For instance maersk contracted to buy from Korea's Hanwha ocean six times bigger than aloha class world largest cargo ships each cost $276m cheaper than blue water cargoes each cost $300m.Assuming we build a thousand intercontinental cargo ships about $3.3tr.especially for the blue water cargo,compared to $2.76tr.for aloha class is quite a good business minus the cost.We trade outputs between companies in the Midland group.Hanwha bought Phily yard last December now inherit aloha class contract.Minimal private subsidies could damage US shipbuilding industry the way Chinese subsidies since 2000 had earlier damaged the shipbuilding industry.It could damage Chinese shipping industry too if we use electric energy to build ships.We use Korean shipbuilders economies of scale,since US shipbuilders pay more than Korean or Japanese shipbuilders.We build electric energy using ships like Elon musk 's EV .If we could build a thousand cargoes worth $3tr.about 2,000ships world wide could make us world largest producer of ships if we add a thousand electric submarines to it.

The cost or fee of uploading ten thousand containers at full face value from a Chinese vessel operated by non Chinese is $2.5m.compared to similar ships by Korean or Japanese around $10.5m.Biden administration and Trump administration have no clear policy to make the US shipbuilding Industry much more competitive again.They could only produce five ? 

Hunger Strike

"Serious hunger strike exist in this country"

"Don't talk of others let us talk about ourself"

"See,take us for a good decade we went on hunger strike for so many times without number.I could recall hunger strike of more than 40 days.Take 40 days hunger strike for every six months.We live on stipends of twenty k from overseas and rent of one hundred ten thousand per annum for almost a decade paid from father's assets."white power recalled 

"You should add you daily meagre wages too from car wash points and bakery gigs.It add a notch or two."

"That sounds ridiculous and we re terribly under employed." White power rebuked.

"See yemisi okelola street was a sesame street but finally we got to the end of the tunnel.I could recall you told me to go back to check the properties way back home"

"Yeah it help a lot and we moved up a notch."

"I saw hell when I went back home."

"Due to COVID-19 incident "

"Exactly because the incidence created paucity of funds for us in Lagos and we had to go back home "

"You said you were attacked "

"Yeah about eight guys came with cutlasses and matchetes oblivious of whom I was."

"Matchetes!"

"Yeah four of them brandished matchetes with red eyes.I was saved by brother gbemisoye one of the only surviving workers in the family silver."

"Finally you chased away some tenants"

"Why won't I? They were stealing money.They diverted our tenants . Caretakers,agents,relatives etc."

"How did you do it?"

"I got home and went straight to factory and chased the back tenants away.Then a year or two after I chased away tenant lady at odoru a school proprietress who was paying next to nothing.She was paying nothing while claiming the building was dilapidated and yet believe paying teachers well was better than paying owner of the property well .Her husband even insulted and I was so annoyed.I said you will stay no longer in that apartment.You see."

"You said Iya awo was annoyed at okelerin when you chased out tenants.How did you handle that too?"

"What would she do or say?She only said that they would use police to arrest you o.But I said It was already done that I had chased them away.Then I came back to Lagos double the rent to a forty k from twenty k.See determination."

"You know I told you."

"We did that and all of a sudden the rent income jumped to a half million then ten million and we bought several lands in cheaper location in Lagos.We built houses and even mansions in choice areas of Lagos.

When we moved to unity street revenue from overseas also skyrocketed and we cutting deals in Lagos islands like Dangotes and otedolas,adenugas and adelekes of this world.You name it"

"See the best experience is hunger and nothing like it."

"We didn't learn a trade"

"Won't you learn that we re different?"

"I know "

"But you did journalism a bit"

"They didn't pay me much"

"Is because you don't have mass communication certificate.Probably the only illiterate to try journalism n Nigeria. Good record you may not like it."

"I see that you re right."

"People not ready to make a difference."

Extreme Genteelity

You think you know your self

And the outsider is not needed

more than use and duno them

more than distrust of each other

and found no need to reconcile

when none hardly cares and remorse

unless you re dishonest and done something critically wrong and guilty 

nothing bitterly to regret when you walk

with probity and gold no grudges 

no rason to fear and infact intensify your

goodworks and shout less if possible 

no keep extreme genteelity

wanton!

Midland Cosmos Aviation Plan:Impossible Dream For the Nigerian Aviation Industry.

Nigeria has about 32 airports,92 airstrips,131 heliports, 13 scheduled commercial air transport operators ,23 non scheduled commercial air transport operators ,2 cargo commercial air transport operators ,544 licensed pilots,913 licensed engineers and 1700 cabin personels.

However we envisage it should grow exponentially to support 5trillion dollars worth of economic activity and 20million jobs through commercial air lines, commercial cargo and passenger services,aircrafts manufacturing and maintenance services such as the abandoned aerotropolis projects, Midland Cosmos aviation cities, Midland Cosmos space projects deploying thousands of rockets and jets into space linked opening Nigerian mars colonies.Nigerian aviation industry is a critical economic engine of Nigerian economy based in midland Cosmos aviation plan of growing Nigerian airports into ten thousands airports in the country to create 20 percent of Nigerian jobs and ten per cent contribution of Nigerian GDP of 50trillion dollars in the next five years based in midland Cosmos GDP growth plan driven by midland Cosmos sovereign business empire global projection.

This would be the largest in the World compared to US aviation with almost twenty thousands airports including over five thousands designed for public use supporting $2tr.worth of economic activity and almost 10million jobs.Based in the business plan of midland Cosmos aviation projects niger republic would be merged with Nigerian landmass and makes it the capital of one west african Nations.Impossible dream!Distances above 100 km suitable preference is the air transport with 100 air ports controling 80 percent of the air transport unlike US in which 86 percent traffic under control of 62 busiest airports and where air transport is suitable for transport of over 300miles or 480 kilometres.About 86 airports in the US supports 1million persenger each compared to midland Cosmos aviation plan of 1million persenger each for 100 airports going outside africa and rest linked to african airports in most cases where midland Cosmos group has business interest.

The Midland Cosmos Macron group envisage the big bodiono for the Midland Cosmos corporate country something impossible in the visionless Nigerian economy that is projected by the same plan to grow to between $45 tr to $50 tr.in the next five years .The success of midland Cosmos private placement projects swings the plan into full gear.

In the US aviation market the big four airlines controling 75per cent of the Market compared to midland Cosmos aviation plan where the big five airlines owned by midland Cosmos group subsidiaries control 80percent.

Each of the big five midland group airways should control at least 15 million seats to as high as 20million seats per nanum and mostly workforce of midland Cosmos group subsidiaries worldwide and associate groups.Quite insane.

Unlike US aviation industry that operate every day over 27,000 flights carrying 2.7m.passengers,to  and fro 80 countries and 61,000 tons of cargo from 220 countries,midland plan is closer to some 3.2m.carrying 100,000 tons of cargo and staggering 32,000 flights per day across the 220 countries as members of WOICO and WOICO society respectively.

However we captures the impossibilities in the proven economic possiblity curve plan of midland Cosmos group.Given that we view Nigerian economy as largely subjugated within larger Nigerian midland Cosmos economy due to annual revenue of the group that could be bigger than the United states making Nigeria midland Cosmos economy in the next five years the biggest economy in the World .

Midland Cosmos Nigerian Aviation assembly could manufacture over 400 fighter jets per annum compared to US aviation assembly market of over 300 fighter jets per annum . Not that very important but the fighter jets would be deployed into space program where the space travels require enormous heat temperature to fight through gravity to get midland space colonies for human settlement.We could manufacture 2,000 aircrafts per annum converted them into space aircrafts with new designs.We see things differently and quite insane.

I was mocked by a friend of mine when we envisioned the space projects together and i said i will transport one million Nigerians into midland Cosmos space colonies per day in the next five years and we make movement into space to be like an hour journey between New York and London once proposed by elon musk using space rockets.He told he would save the text messsges for future rebuke if i could nt achieve.I told him i was not joking compared to elon musk 's program of getting one million people into space in the next two decades.Bunkum!

Grails

In the heat of grail,in the scenery of vast greenfields,in the raining time,in the harvest time,in the appointed time,

When the eagles burst through the sky

And flooded the greenfields with booties

When the meteors refute to exit cut through with verdant foothills 

So the arcane faded through where the grails now stood

In the appointed in the day of snow and bliss,in the days of harvest 

Of springs time,of treasured troves and best bits and knack of fortune,

Where the pleasured the heavenly sun

Amidst the declated gumsu in the golden halleys

Such curios,we unveiled sacred Stones to make a deferrence in the applomb towards the golden hills.

Exit the crucifix at the pitch of the golden valleys and unleash the pot of gold

We were erstwhile misers though misery persist until the intimidating pitch

Wild with golden dreams and bachanallian, with the arcadian rhythm 

Then luxury fell in our feet when we exit with the pitch.We have never never happier than that.

We spoke of the beautiful days not yet seen 

Of the future we never see as if we own the future ,the biggest level of insanity ever seen

Still we own the future as the priest of gallantry to earn us the tag'historical buffoons'.

As the little kids play with muck and loam 

Poking loam in the open space

So did we play and pun with beautiful dreams 

I was thinking about this poem with memoirs of my other poems'Live at the Repair Workshop 'and 

And the beauty and insanity of distant future

And the envisaged bliss of the dreamers

When the speck for poetry came and lo scribbled the letters from the iron pen.

We moved from bliss into bliss and we knew it was endless and romantically grew

We stunned ourself to the opinionism

Of beware of the other side effect of your pursuit 

Not to pursue stardom that you could barely afford.

Confluence

"We re two rivers that never part.

"The tributary of the world that ends with the world greatest delta"

"We re evident in all your books as black power vs white power."

"Exactly manu folks may not know".

"The good and the ugly included"

"Words are not enough.We built the richest family in the world."

"We speak our mouth through history not the history of our people but our distinct history of extraodinary heritage."

"Really we re the confluence".

"The beginning of history and the end of history."

Concave

Do you have a blueprint 

For your lifetime journey?

Do you have an outline?

Or concave if things go wrong 

Or bubble of scenario burst

Unpremeditated

You have a buffer to fallo upon?

I doubt you do

Like manu intelligent foolks

Life is funny

How can a wise man today

Become a fool tommorow

The best panacea to conceptualise

Against this inevitable pitfall

Is to concilliate.

Untimely but intimidating death 

Are many

Why ?

Because they betray concave.

Dont betray concave 

 Is toconcilliate

Is to 

Blackpower 's Mysterious Tongue

Baba Ogbomosho sat beneath the forest woods 

Fully in the engrossed in the farm routine and regular chores.

In the improvised visit by blackpower 

For the long time,

The  chilly atmosphere beneath the blowing breeze 

Was calmer for the heat day  of a laborious workman,

The farmer in the farmyard was pleased to make hays while the sun shines 

As he sieved the palm seedlings and palm fruits for use in palm oil preparation

Breaking them down with stones trigger

Upon mother stones.

A little banter:I do computer graphics for naming,wedding ceremonies and events.Get me gigs of you have one"

"Let me see your design?"blackpower moved back and trigger phone search to show him

"This it about five hundred designs"moved the phone screen closer and adjusted his spectacle to behold the evidence.

"Oh i see you re good too"

"If you have any event bring a reverend father in the church call me sir".

"Good"then readjusted his speck to focus on the palm routine.

There was a broke silence as clergy dished out random instruction to little boy his grand child in the farm working with him.

Blackpower was speechless for a while marveled at the farm work rate of an old farmer a recalcitrant septuagenarian.

Then the seed of his tongue broke apart,

Thus saith he"an abject father gathered siblings and progenies for the death rites.The person died shortly in the covert space."

In the split seconds the phone calls rang helplessly and zoomed "Madam margaret is dead"

"Oh my gosh i did pass the area yesternight and every where in the house was locked.I could nt suspect immediately"

"Yeah she just passed on now"

"Oh my God"

Bad presence bring evil occurences.

How come on the first visit in donkey obituary was declated

Oh no is just a coincidence

Did i hear that right

Oh coincidence 

Anyway coincidence?

Did he get the gig?

Not yet

Did i perservere to get it

That you maybe accused 

of aiding the demise of the innocent .

Works of arts

Wonderful works of arts 

Takes time to be appreciated

And lo i was thinking the age of arts 

Extremely matters for every curio

The price of bargain shoots up

As ageism accelerate the texture of the curio

Time is the value and every value by times

Is denoninated in wealth

Live At the Repair Workshop

Baba Ogbomosho known pastor alabi

A wealthy sacerdotal in a simple casual

Comes long and flashes forth to commemorate the workman engrossed in the house repairs.

He occassionally bashes jokes with heehaw

then consciousness pricks him to interrogate flimsy repairs 

And the entire roofs go down in split seconds

Scarying but oblivious to take the snapshot

And what a wonderful work of arts bu the blistery carpenter

In the sale split second before we could sayi jack

It was wonderful restored and the whole roofs in the kitchen entrance perfectly mended.

All wisdom has a thought

All wisdom has a thought:theory;concept;ethics;information production;books

Are life existential assets and are down

In silence and harvested in silence 

They speak survival and sustainability

To the species of mankind under sun

There's so much substance in them

And their decay if any releases sustainable growth to mankind 

They go in cycle to perpertuate everlasting revivification of mankind with nature.

Treacly Molass Of the Golden Hills .Part 1

(Maximus spake with loud tones as stern god of war,enjoined men at arms mysticism of the golden hills)

Thus saith he as the rain ebbed in the front pouch of the manor:

"Glows in the morning stakes and tames you anew

Much fairest than sweetening compare

To hideous winter and hideous spring time from beak of prior seasons 

When hunting lovers as the hunting birds in the hunting games in the wild

Persevere every catch to deign favor for every roses 

Whose fragrance the heavenly sun had bestowed 

Bewitched by famished road seizing sweatening palms with the precedent of pith

Blowing passion as if like blowing kisses in trembling heels

Audaciously to pluck him ebbtide from his dizzying lull

The meed is fortunate to tie the backward menace as forward menace 

Dancing skate ajar the babies with bathing waters

Leaning stroke of immoderate lust over his alkaline ego

Brimful of brood broken and brittle sinewy apt to toy his leadened appetite 

Where golden mettle brusquely brut and brusquely brush off 

Dionysian jungles of cryptic buccaneers lunging for bucks and cabbages 

Took the toll at rampaging scum and beyond bucolic buds, arcadian buddies

Not amplitude of buffets by bugeyed buffers 

To bug bear tis the bungs raving upon bungs and break down as bumptious bummers 

As if saturated with ignoble bulimia in the burlesque of somewhat dancing butch suffocated by burnished burnouts.

Not the bustle hidden beneath burrowing distance with the butchering butts 

For the most intrepid butterfingers with plethora of butterflies gunning the effusive navel

Eaten by buzzards and vampires in the cack handed cackling and cacophonious euphoria .

The sacrifice of fortune bestows golden hills retrieved from golden valleys by cads and cadavers whose learned to articulate beyond bohemians,

Ambidextrous coons in the cadence of buttonholes beyond butterflies beyond caravan of misery 

Eschew humbres from the grid of cat's paw exploited by cauldron of cat's cradle 

To flex for the cavalry of cerebral chess and cavalcade of pyrrhic victory .

Cheapskates on the vertigo, chauvinists daring badly 

Cheeseparers cheesed in theft of cheesies

And now a common place thing turn stale as the chintzily old chestnut 

In the chiaroscuro of bestiality which chisel chivalry in vain

Chunky chuckles chucked at chundered distance either churlishly or euphoniously

In tonguing of positive ampersand 

Amplifies phenomenon for pyrhic victory.

The chump and discreet chromatic could woo their adorable ados

Garnished with beards of chutzpah transpiring at circadian rhythm.

Not a cinch but could be cinch cariously

And circumpectly in the circumnavigation of the circumlocution of the cinch

The clads and the claddings of the cinch beyond a clanger ,clammy and a clampdown 

Clamber like a clairvoyant the rising sun of the golden hills 

You clannish obey at clarion calls,moult your claptrap 

With the clasp knife of classical ado,

Clang the clamour ,click and cleave for the tedious cinch

With the climbing frame as climbers and mountaineers towards the golden hills 

The cinch like a clincher could castrate the clingy climacteric dote of nature's wit

A saving grace for the clodhopper who sails clockwise uncluttered and cloistered like clockwork 

Though he clomps and clumps but unclogged 

Having been cloned himself in the crimson cinch and clod accordingly

Nature's cloying of mortal ados in the cloudcuckooland

Often rendered birds of passage  vulnerable to the cloudburst and the hurlyburlies of the civvy street.

The cinchers as the set of coagulants 

Hauled over the coals of cinches

Coalesced their hap'orth of tar from the cinch enroute golden hills .

Hark on your coattails coaxial cable of audacious tongues and not a cock and bull

Beyond cockeyed cock up affixed to the cinch 

A cockfighter could take the garrison aloft his peers 

Even cocksure, cock-a-hooped,cocky,cockier,cockiest in the much cold-blooded coddle.

Anticlimax Of Anomie.

You abscond without your abacus 

And still attain no abnegation and abjuration 

That ablutions mar and abort your abidance

Where you abdicate in poignancy mode

Even your temerity and rashness for getting task done

Due to pines of the abduction,abscess and abominable abhorrence 

Abrasion cannot abridge you from the potpourri of your abeyance and aberration Sound abstruse to me that you been implicated either as an accomplice or accessory 

Benign absorbence too quickly like abstinence to abstain from the aberration 

And every accelerant with cannon fire accession accede too easily 

And to take up ace in naivety achromatic maybe repugnant to accolades and entice them acid of derogatory accustom 

In the dungeon of acquiescence accolytes at a cryptic actionable distance 

To peripheral nerve adjutants to adversarial influences like adsorbent might adsorb molecules in the adulation of gaseous layers

Adulterate adorns do not suffice 

Dancing afloat and afoot the golden feet of the gods

How come affable affines afix opulence with wit and grace beyond affray of misfortune and misfits 

To insulate the glows and the after glows of beautiful spring time 

And wilderness sands barely comtrovert the museum of musings?

Thus saith he to his conscience "Prejudice! prejudice!!prejudice!!!

Nothing more nothing less

Courage pluck from the heavenly sun hardly swore affidavit with thralldom of dread at the affinity of affirmative to defend the aggrandized ahoy of dread sinking ships and titanic with its blistering savagery of blustery waves

Fortune not dancing afloat neither dancing skate ajar nor airy-fairy in typical airy akimbo slavish and aleatory at the nuisances of out moded algorithm 

To reverse from aberration 

What an allegory at the promptitude of allergies 

Ducked and sucked by the allotropes of allergies 

Allure of combative allusion that enticed abeyance to the lotion of dancing afloat to the euphoria 

Season of dejavus cannot broach perfectly altercation betwixt bewitching alter egos at daggers drawn in the same sedition.

To amass smokes of amnesia in the Dionysian melange of amputated pride and insufficient amperage beneath amplified ampersand 

Call for precautions in the ecstatic pastimes of dingy clouds 

Defferential anchorites may not surmise to censure the antepenultimate of anthills and ominous claws

Mowed by the anticlimax of anomie and whose apprise of wits at xenophobia do we clamour 

If not for the sedate palms of beauteous bourgeoisies?

Spring time wits decongestant arboreal come down from the trees for the arcadian throttle 

Backstreet badmouth may lose allusion when wits alight from the trees and anomie -less bairns 

Revert to the lores of parental grits and customary wits

And ballroom dancing does not send etiquette on exile

Where modesty could pine whacks of balderdash at the balcony of bales and guiles.

Bedraggled befallen bejewelled at dusk 

Betwixt those better noires bilky times at nefarious bird's eye view in refrain from the sand dunes 

Blot the escutcheon at blithering but saner times.

Waow anticlimax of anomie frequented by muggings,boors and blockheads waltzed from bilky times 

A boiling point for boat people beyond bolt holes 

Does the vintage style of brash and breadlines ever matter to indulge in the season of anomie?

Does bilky times ever compromise sanest norms at good etiquette?

Far be it and more often than not aggravated 

Poetry Of Distinction and Punsmithing . Chapter 5.pg.1,2,3..…

Putsch.Figment.Nausea.Alitteration.Figurative.Gargantuan and Pantagruel.Haemorhage.Hellbent.Egregious dimple.Manicheanism.Animalcules.Sebastious plow.Transmogrification.Transcendentalism.Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious grit.Nemesis of the golden brawl.Brawny cats.Transliteration.Cupid.Gluttonous bells.Muster and muzzle an ox.Dampened Zealotry.Divertissimento.Goofs of pointificate.Marrooned island.Discourteous Reprobate.Nukes.Arsenal Of Squandered Foundry.Munificence.Amplitude.Ambidextrous.Disheartened foxes.Nullifier.Kindled Garrulous freaks.Boisterous, Obstreperous Vociferous vitriolic vituperators.Animosity.Winces.Conscientious diatribes.Eccentric accolades.Irrendentists.Dissidents of heretic abuse.Fastidious bigotry.Incomprehensibilities.Fabulous spree.Extravaganza.Eggshell Chinese.Megalomaniac bent.Depressed libido.Libidinous and salacious birds.Raving foxes.Mangled prejudice.Sewered Girth.Capsized boats.Unscrupulous elbow.Manumission.Defference at hallowed shells.Incandescent bough.Pulchritudes.Lax celibacy.Celerity on the other shore.Shitholes, scumbags rapscallions and motherfuckers.Broken troths.Quirky trudgings.Quixotic palls.Sundry pets.Intelligent fools.Commonplace things.Throng and medley.Lyrical insanity.Bollocks.Methodical Insipidity.Insolent eyeballs.Indolent eyebrows.Pelucid morning crows.Egregious cannonballs.Distorted cannonades.O of Giotto.Embellished footpads.Indellible footprints on the sands of time.Chivalrous footsteps.Audacious goons.simulacrum.similitude.verissimilitude.Viccisitudes.Paraclete.Parsimony.Spendthrift.Transcendental epochs.Unprecedented eaons.Abdication.Abeyance.Aberration.Suspense.Meanderings.Caparison.Stolid and sombre.Placid triffles.Lousy froths.Indigent clowns.Monumental confutation.Nefarious conundrum.Nebula.Gallantry.Absconds of bombastic elements.Sinewy necks.Gawk eyed.Askance.Simpering.Saunters.Gallivanting hood.Simulacrum.Traduce.Calumny.Calumniators.Gusto.Effrontery of quashed foxes.Grimes.Grouchings and lashings.Catoninetails.Manipulated ego and straitjacketed elements.lackeys.Silhouttee.Seance.Bequests of beckonings.Assimilados.Briny deep.Gallows humour.Macabre dance.Danceaton.Malignance.Malediction.Benediction.Gulag.Sparkling psychopaths.Humbug.Hurlyburly.Dementia apotu.Cerebral idiots.Purple prose and mixed metaphors.Archipelago of dreams.Dreamland mirage.Illusion and evasion.Friction and sedition.Vicinage.Vintage circa.Ambivalence.Ambiguous elements.Scandalous trips.Escapades on the egression.Indignant elves.Fairy foxes.Mythical folk tales.Wilderness ramblings.Misclellaneous scorns.Scuttlebutt.brambles.Sentinels and sentries.Somnabulists and insomniac.Somnoliquents.Egocentric assholes.Caricature and subterfuge.Subteraneans and surreptitious crumbles.Subvention on the trolls.Suburban imbroglio.Floodgate and inundated volumes.Psychiatric mess.Psychosomatic and psychedelic mushrooms.Trittons and minnows.Cantankerous poofs.Acatalectic descent.Holistic indigence.Industrious pets.Hogwashes and thralldom.Servitude on the plow.Castrated serfdom.Serriformed and serrated tactics.Antics of the sesame street.Waterlogged buffoon.Objective morons.Seasoned mufflings.Muffins.Pouted bliss.Immaculate knots.Nuptial knots.Fillial piety.Plenipotentiary of knighthood.Knighterrants not on canvas.Eroneous parvenu and repugnant upstarts.Erratic homesteads.Consecrated clowns.Clickety clank.Cliquishness.Cabals and gangsters.Gungho.Ganglion and point-blank.Poignant Cringes and creases.Croons and magnanimous magnates.Cuss.Gnomes 'n' Zurich.Alabaster and picturesquely.Muggins.Muck at pomp and pageantry.pompous alliances.Disgruntled elements.Wheezing like a grampus,stuck like a grampus and clung like a limpet.Scolded exhaustion.Monstrous hits from monster.Sensual carapace and crimson bank.Apoplexy and afficionados broke ranks.Ransom for wondrous bossom.Childhood memoirs.Apparent odds and indestructible clowns.Incorrigibility.Irreplaceables and irreplaceables.Irreproachables.Absolutism and fest of despotism.Despicables.Abject neglect and ghastly accidents.Trunchion.Standpoint.Silt.Rafts.Seething and shuddering distance.Maneauvres.Adamantines and recalcitrants.Foments and portentous grills.Gridiron and firearms.Musings and enchantment.Enchiladas and the whole shebang.Coils,scuds and churlish drums.Crotchety horses.Embittered palms.Perception and prejudices at grimace.Mt.everest.Mt.olympus.Pusillanimous.Pitched ass.Conflagration.Combustion.Compunction.Empathy.Allopathy.Miscegenetion.Meiosis.Litottes.Mitigation.Diaphanous and haphazardly.Impecable ants.Wanton and servile.Subservient hagiographers.Semantic and hagiologies.Sacerdotals and the monasteries.Grandiloguents.Bucolic and bellicose pounds of irate indigos.Son of dodo,ilks of Mongolian neanderthals.Dudgeon and invectives.Inchoates and inverse proportion at disproportionate disapprobation.Approbation and ovation.Swings and slingshots.Irreconcilliable differences.Colosus and behemoth.Tragicomedies.Crumples.Belligerent lawns.Badgers and benignity.Empyrean heights.Jigsaw and jackpots.Mendacious but animalistic bets.Induring particles.Aromatic oils and odoriferous perfumes.Cornucopia and cognoscentis.Repertoire of anecdotes.Similes and metaphors.Tautology.Chasm of chastity.Chides.Reprimands.Filthy lucres, cabbage,quids.Maggots and apologists.Charismatic harlots.Hermit and recluse.Recliners at recumbents.Vertiginious lapses.Lap of the gods.Lien.Voyage of golden hills.Blue violets.Pinions and horseback.Abstemious young man.Abstrusion.Occlussion.Octambulism.Gangrene.Gilds and gingerbread.Grange.Grail.Gravid.Rancid and stenches.Breastplates and sheath.Bravado and coxswain.Coxcomb.Coteries.Clues and Ballyhoo.Perfidy and treachery.Gastronomy.Chef d'ouvre.kudos and harkening oxes.Paroxysm.Tremulous tremor.Pall.Apalling palor.Pales as wanes.Reticionated grooves.Reticulated pallies.Astigmatism and obscurantism.Paternoster and fillibuster.Ekeing eke.Disconsonlate ire.Bomshell and bombardment.Brinks and brunts.Pines and whittles.Fritter away.Cattawampus and discombobulation.Counterpoise and composure.Comportment as deportment.Deponents and deposition.Disposition and preeminence.Predilection as propensity , predisposition and proclivity.Traits and ascetism.Emigres and itineraries.Convolution and sociogenesis.Misogynists and atheists.Pandora box.Damoclean swords.Damp squip.Doomsday.Periwinkles.Periphrastic.Perihelion.Peregrinatory.Periphery.Periscope.Perverse.Perilous.Prickly spurs.Satiety.Satire and satin.Sumptious and scrumptious bars of gold.Bounteous walks of life.Presumptuous clumps.Sedate claws.Tranquil moss.Forlorn shrieks.Eldorado.Screams and carress.Greymatter.Livid and lark.Glide and Alights.Winches.Wench vs wrench.Wrights.Blokes and humbres.Machismos.Scraggly and sappy plants.Savor and co adjutor.Chiaroscuro and klieglights.Kaleidoscopic and streak of lightnings.Kleptomania and swindles.Cavorting and carousal.Carouses and carousels.Wanderlust.Sempiternity.Cremates and incinerate.incitement and estrangement.Deranged and dischantment.Polymorphosis and metamorphosis.Noctambulism.Vitiation.Veracity.mundane and extra mundane.Diminutive .Dapper and costumes.Knapsacks and accoutrements.All the paraphernalia of offices.Scums and allotropes.Dismemberment and cruises.Emancipated egos.Contravention and restitution.Recuperation.Resuscitation.Nincompoops and sterile gloves.Preposterous wands.Argots and banals.Quartz and pints.Punts and pants. Meteor and velocity.Velodrome and circus.Gropes and sacrilege.Onomatopeia.Voluminous escalate.Inquietude and vendatta.Enfaterrible stear,steak and cheeses in cheese sake.Vantage point.Wretchedness and penury sensation over.

Desideratum!

What is desire? A tyrant or forced

A force that spares not energy

Get you drunk and makes you

Tyrant of every decision and dream

A hired killer of purpose and purple bath

Or villain bath?

It may not clear years

And may clear your years

It may spares your life

And may not spares your life

Often insensitive to your welfare

Tis its heartless toga is met with bodiono

Oh beware of desire

Desiderata 

Or desideratum kills

My Glorious Thrones

I saw myself in the beautiful

I brought down heaven back on earth

And i saw immortality return back to the earth

I saw my glorious moment of majesty and regalia

And i sat on my throne and i was shock 

I thought in my prior after life i was born

Probably a kingi with mighty empire

I saw glittering bubbles of angeles dispensing justice in my presence

Across the accolades and acclamation

Of my morhernature

Glorious thrones adorn me

Even christ bows me

What a blasphemous dream?

Oh the glue stays

I cannot tell it all

How much can i kiss

How much can i kiss you?

My golden nuggets 

My wonderful miles

My treasure troved

With thee sacred gemstones

I stands out everywhere

I go

How much can i kiss you?

How much can i kiss you?