My Poetry Evolution :A First Generation Poetry Class.

I think poetry has come a long way and I have done a lot of western poetry research and wrote almost all forms of western poetry and also have used more than three million vocabularies in my writings more than any African writers or poets.Am moving back to my culture and start the process of exploring local form of poetry and I think we have more diverse forms of poetry than even an average Westerner.For instance an average indigenous poetry architecture including the oral poetic forms such as in the Yoruba context oriki or panygeric poetry or eulogizing Poetry,ọfọ or incantation ,ijala or hunter's chants,ese ifa or ita divination poetry, Iremoje or valedictory verse,owe or proverbs,all apamo or riddles and jokes,epe or curses or imprecation,asun rara or chanting song etcetera.

Anyways,to prove that I belong to the best poetry generation in Nigeria which is The second generation the wole Soyinka generation,I will let a third party pass the Verdict.

Let me reproduce a Guardian essay entitled The Nigerian Poetry Send the lost/careless Generation.part 1 published in 11th September,2016 on Guardian online authored by Christopher Anyokwu as reproduced below, enjoy the reading:

Nigerian poetry and the lost/careless generation – Part 1

 By : Christopher Anyokwu

 Date: 11 Sep 2016 :

"The concept of Nigerian poetry is at once as interesting and problematic as that of the Nigerian post-colony itself. Interesting because, regardless of its unstable and amorphous constitution, it has continued to subsist, defying, as it does, the law of gravity; and, problematic in one breath because its very definition and its constitutive properties vary from habitus to originary habitus with particular reference to ethnic claims and, hence, epistemic afflatus.

Given this problematic conceptualization of “Nigerian Poetry”, it has become something of a lazy, if normalizing, sleight-of-hand to speak, descriptively. The poetries emerging from within the geographic province of the nation-state as “Nigerian Poetry” is a group of ethnically-informed, religiously-nuanced and culture-bound verse-making whose critical appraisal must be conducted from within its specific socio-cultural ideational matrices.

But, like everything “Nigerian”, seeking to critique this body of dissimilar but inter-related poetries from an ethnically-informed prism would be misconstrued and denounced as an assault on logic, or, in political terms, as heretical, if not downright unpatriotic. But since the business of scholarship authorizes research as re-search, it therefore behooves us to rethink and re-conceptualize and, ultimately, re-operationalize the notion of Nigerian poetry with a view to properly situating its heuristic and hortatory potentialities. If, indeed, we take ourselves seriously in our determined pursuit of the truth about the integrity of the phenomenon of “Nigerian poetry”, we should be speaking of it in the plural, to wit, Nigerian poetries (in other words, Yoruba-English Poetry, Igbo-English Poetry, Urhobo-English poetry, Ika-English Poetry and so forth!).

To do that would, of course, create the uncomfortable impression of an “enemy national” out to put a knife to that which holds us together as a (homogenous?) people (‘Though tribe and tongue may differ, in brotherhood we stand, the defunct National Anthem proclaimed!). But beyond the political correctness of a pan-Nigerian posturing and/or the feel-good, anodyne shibboleths of patriotese, the prickly truth of the heterogeneity of our poetries continues to stare us in the face. What, in concrete terms, does, say Wole Soyinka’s poetry have in common with Christopher Okigbo’s poetry; or what communion has Niyi Osundare’s verse with Tanure Ojaide’s poetry? To venture an answer here, however, it is pretty straightforward to stress the point that these poets all hail from the same country, write in and speak English, the country’s official language, and, to that extent, are all united by factors of context, that is, Nigerian polity, and language, that is, the English language. But if we take the trouble to interrogate the linguistic and the contextual minutiae of their work, it would become quite apparent that what divides these literary avatars are more deeply-entrenched than what unites them.

The troubling and vexatious details of the strife-riven ethnically-charged Nigerian politics do not only shape their linguistic ideology but, far more significantly, colour their reading of history and the relationship between poet and polity. To speak a bit more about language, it is common knowledge that every writer from a postcolonial country wrestles with the English language, especially one from an Anglo-phone nation-state (cf: T.S. Eliot’s “intolerable wrestle with words”). As Niyi Osundare typically brilliantly posits in the case of a Yoruba-born Nigerian poet, when two languages meet, they kiss and quarrel. Does this apply to both the Igbo-born poet and the Yoruba-born poet in equal measure and in every material particular? Not quite, we daresay: for Igbo and Yoruba, though both of them, tone or tonal syllable-timed languages, have phonological, syntactic, morphological and, thus, semantic features unique to each of them.

Embedded and deeply-ingrained in each language is a particular philosophy of life which, in turn, invariably permeates the social values, the patterns of thinking, religious outlook and the epistemology of that particular ethnic group. Yoruba is Yoruba, Igbo is Igbo. What, therefore, comes through as Soyinka’s poetry, for example, is an admixture of Yoruba oral tradition and western poetic tradition. By the same token, Okigbo’s poetry is steeped in autochthonous Igbo orality and a welter of foreign-derived literary traditions.

Using both Soyinka and Okigbo as template, we can very easily analyse the socio-cultural features of any Nigerian poet. Therefore, just as it has become increasingly difficult to speak of African literature due largely to the multiplicity of nationalities, ethnicities and communicative idioms which make up Africa, so does the description of Nigerian Poetry as a single, homogenous body of writing leave much to be desired. What is being proposed here, for whatever it is worth, is that, in the light of present realities, geopolitical and all, it may be more intellectually rewarding and, of course, more factual to take another, more dispassionate look at the criticism of Nigerian poetry, and, this time, from a decidedly ethnically-informed perspective.

The merit of this procedure is that, shorn of the lie of cultural homogeneity, the critic is more equipped and better informed to plumb the depths of any Nigerian writing under analysis as he or she is required to situate the work within its socio-cultural milieu and, thereafter, stake out its proper place within the larger Nigerian social life. Poetry originating from the so-called minority ethnic groups would have their day in the sun. We can then have, say, Efik-English poetry, Esan-English Poetry, Isoko-English Poetry and Nupe-English Poetry and so on. Beyond showcasing the vast cultural diversity of Nigerian Poetry as a whole, these poetries from hitherto suppressed and marginalized social groups would be brought to the fore coupled with the fact that their academic or discursive respectability would be established. To this extent, therefore, uprooted scholars and prodigal researchers must recognize the need to return home to their villages and localities to collaborate with their unlettered townsfolk who are the custodians of their artistic patrimony lest they die out with their artistic heritage. To be sure, the importance of this town-gown synergy cannot be overstated, particularly against the backdrop of the depredations of globalization.

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In talking about what we have referred to as the “Lost or Careless Generation” of Nigerian Poetry, it is important to clear the deck from the viewpoint of periodisation before we delve into the nitty-gritty of the modus operandi, the distinguishing features as well as the triumphs and troughs of the emergent tendency. Many scholars and historians of literature over the years have tried to furnish what in their considered views could be regarded as the definitive periodisation of Nigerian Poetry.

Some of these scholars include Harry Garuba, Biodun Jeyifo, Donatus Ibe Nwoga, Senanu and Theo Vincent and Tijan Sallah and Tanure Ojaide. Jeyifo remarks, for example, that: If there are now about five distinct generations of writers, critics and scholars of modern African literature, the first two generations came into their own in the epoch of the high tide of decolonization while the last two generations have been confronted with the specters of arrested decolonization, failing or collapsed states, economic stagnation, widespread autocratic misrule and the delegitimization of the grand narratives of emancipation which held that the liberation of African peoples in the modern world is indissolubly linked to the liberation of all the oppressed peoples of the world.

In spite of the perceptive and near-accurate analysis of Nigerian literary history given by Biodun Jeyifo, it appears far more accurate and, indeed, intellectually rewarding to stick to the periodisaton provided by Sallah and Ojaide in their jointly-edited anthology of African poetry entitled New African Poetry: An Anthology. According to these African poet-critics, there are three distinct generational cohorts in Nigerian, nay, African poetry, namely (1) the Nationalist poets such as Nnamdi Azikiwe and Osadebe who wrote poetry in imitation of the 19th-century British poets, as part of the momentous anti-colonial struggle and the agitation for self-determination; (2) the Independence Generation, that is, African poets who came of age during the heyday of political independence across Africa; and, in the Nigerian situation, this refers to the so-called Wole Soyinka-Clark-Okigbo coterie; and (3) the group of African poets who had cut their teeth on the works of their immediate predecessors but dissatisfied with their precursors’ performance, saw the need to steer a different course, thus inaugurating at once a thematic and formal sea-change in Nigerian verse-making.

Sallah and Ojaide, both among this coterie of African poets, identify some characteristic features of this school/tendency/sensibility, features which include limpidity of diction, a clear class consciousness or poetic ideology, a sense of propaganda, instrumental orchestration of poetry, otherwise known as “performance poetry”, antiphony, the adroit incorporation of indigenous oral poetic forms (in the Yoruba context, such as oriki (panegyric poetry), ofo (incantations), Ijala (hunters’ chants, ese ifa (Ifa Divination poetry); iremoje (valedictory verse); owe (proverbial lore) alo apamo (riddles and jokes) and epe (curses/imprecations). Additionally, these poets regard themselves as agents of change – radical, progressive and revolutionary change – poet – prophet/seers, social gadflies, ideologues, notably left-leaning revolutionary arbiters of taste and social health. Among these poet seers are Odia Ofeimun, Niyi Osundare, Okimba Launko, Funso Aiyejina, Obiora Udechukwu, Ossie Enekwe, Catherine Acholonu, Afam Akeh and Harry Garuba.

The impression has been created in much critical commentary that the third generation of Nigerian poets emerged out of the frustration felt by the readership over what has been variously described as the ‘obscurantism and eurocentrism’ of most of the [second] generation of modern Nigerian poets. Or, what Chinweizu et al characterize as ‘Euromodernism’ or ‘The Hopkins Disease’; or, to further flesh it out, ‘Hopkinsian syntactic jugglery, Poundian allusiveness and sprinkling of foreign phrases, and Eliotesque suppression of narrative and other logical linkages of the sort that creates obscurity in “The Waste Land”. This cultivation of obscurantism is also excoriated by Biodun Jeyifo when he comments that ‘The Older poets [i.e. the Soyinka coterie) generally deployed a diction and a metaphoric, highly allusive universe, calculated to exclude all but a small coterie of specialists…’

Given the fact that the second generation of Nigerian poets was to produce the first major body of poetry for sophisticated critical engagements, it was not surprising that their works have attracted in equal measure both high praise and acerbic denunciation, a vilification that came to a head with the publication of the Bolekaja Troika’s vitriol. Typically, in what he has called ‘Responses in Kind’, Soyinka has equally fought back pound for pound, taking his traducers to the cleaners in such mordant rejoinders as ‘Neo-Tarzanism: The poetics of Pseudo-Tradition’, ‘The Autistic Hunt; or, How to Marxmize Mediocrity’ and ‘Barthes, Leftocracy and Other Mythologies"

Now I must say with due sense of respect the classification of the five generations of poetry was done almost perfectly well but I make bold to disagree if it were based on the quality of impact and not driven by time or timing in the timeline analysis of checkered antecedence of poetry the first generation now would be the second generation and the second generation that is wole Soyinka generation would now be the first generation of Nigerian Poetry czars.Hence I too belong to the first generation and no need to change the rest of the three generations in the rear.Since none of the poetry czars of these three generations could dislodge the erstwhile first generation now the second generation tells a lot about the significance of poetry towards decolonization of the mind.

 There seems to be a wave of poetry movement in Nigeria as encapsulated in the beautiful essay below:

The Ex-Puritan

Schism

A smiling man in a black jacket stands near bookshelves, captured in a black and white photo.

“What in the World is Happening in Nigeria?": Adedayo Agarau on the Recent Explosion of Nigerian Poetry on the World Stage

By Adedayo Agarau

If we must write about the new crop of Nigerian writers, we must write it through history.

 

If we must write about the new crop of Nigerian writers, we must write it through history. The angels did not just remember to stir the waters of Nigerian poetry today, bestowing upon them the evanescent gift of language and the ability to submit poems and support one another on Twitter/X. Nigerian poets ride on the backs of small hubs, community culture, and language already established by writers before them. Before Facebook or the arrival of social media, Nigeria had already been identified as a major literary hub from which writers of the global south had emerged. Before I was born, Professor Wole Soyinka won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1986 and was said to be "in a wide cultural perspective and with poetic overtones fashions the drama of existence." In 1979, Chinua Achebe was awarded the Nigerian National Order of Merit. We have had Cyprian Ekwensi, JP Clark, Gabriel Okara, Christopher Okigbo, and Flora Nwapa, among others.

Earlier writing communities were formed in hostels, under trees, under the small light of nights where revered writers read to each other, published work in bulletins and formed collectives. Professor Niyi Osundare, whose poem made me fall in love with writing, Femi Osofisan, Odia Ofem, Tanure Ojaide, Festus Iyayi, and other writers of the second generation emerged with their sound nature and socio-political poetics heavily influenced by diverse Nigerian oral traditions. The history of Nigerian writers, contemporary or newer, has directly or indirectly been influenced by an earlier generation of brave writers who wrote despite.

As Julia Kristeva’s theory of intertextuality reminds us, no text or artistic movement emerges in isolation; it is instead a mosaic of past voices and influences. Akin to Newton’s First Law, metaphorically applied in cultural studies, the movement we see today is a continuation, a response to the enduring currents that shaped its path. In fact, it feels wrong to define Nigerian poetry as a movement. We’re just writing and submitting because our voices are fresh and our languages primed, and the world is listening.

Nigerian poets ride on the back of small hubs, community culture, and language already established by writers before them.

This essay captures my firsthand experience of community, reflecting how Nigerian poets formed connections on Facebook and beyond. It does not aim to alienate, erase, or rewrite the history from which it draws. My experience of the Nigerian poetry hub is personal, shaped by where I lived and the communities I belonged to, and does not imply that other communities did not exist elsewhere.

Only a few months after discovering the poetry scene on 2go and meeting Rasak Malik—one of my earliest mentors—I slid into Kukogho Iruesiri Samson’s DMs on Facebook Messenger and asked him to mentor me. A few years before, I had seized the Anthology of West African Voices from a junior student we called Fufu Meje, my first encounter with poetry. Samson asked me how far I was willing to go, and I responded, “As far as you take me.” Samson was a Nigerian working in media who loved literature, had written several poems, and, like everyone, believed he could make something out of creative writing. Instead of focusing on writing his manuscript Devil's Pawn, which won the Dusty Manuscript Prize in 2015, Samson dedicated hours to the community he created on Facebook—Words, Rhymes, and Rhythms (WRR)—platforming thousands of Nigerian writers like me. Samson mentored me, edited my work, and published my first poem, "Freedom." WRR democratized access to literary resources, particularly for poets who lacked formal training or connections to established literary circles. By creating an inclusive environment, WRR enabled diverse voices to emerge, reflecting the multiplicity of Nigerian experiences.

Samson asked me how far I was willing to go, and I responded, ‘As far as you take me.’ 

Outside of WRR, small hubs of meetings, readings, and slams were emerging across the country. The year Tade Ipadeola won the NLNG Prize for his remarkable volume The Sahara Testament, I found myself in the crowd at Artmosphere, hosted by Servio Gbadamosi and Femi Morgan, shaking in my boots as Femi called me up to read my poem "An Ode to Amiri Baraka." Around the same time, Dami Ajayi had just released his career-defining chapbook Daybreak & Other Poems, a collection that explores desire through lush metaphors. Dami, with his enigmatic, carefree, and effortlessly humorous presence, struck me as someone who had stumbled into poetry by chance, as nothing about him seemed to fit the stereotypical "poet." Moments before taking the stage, he downed a bottle of beer, then proceeded to captivate the audience with his electrifying poems. I was invited to #BeBlessed a week later, hosted by Olumide Bisiriyu. I still remember my mother sewing me an Up-Nepa buba and sokoto for the poetry event—her son had finally found something he loved, even if it was something she didn’t fully understand but supported wholeheartedly.

In 2014, #BeBlessed Quarterly emerged as a crucial gathering place for young Nigerian poets, fueled by our collective passion for language—a fervor that consumed us entirely. VicAdex, who once walked halfway from Ibadan along the perilous Ibadan-Oyo highway to attend #BeBlessed the night before an important exam, exemplified the depths of our dedication. Such was our hunger for poetic communion. Every quarter, Mr. Olumide Bisiriyu's home became a sanctuary for around 30 young writers with nowhere else to stay after the poetry event. His generosity was a cornerstone of our burgeoning community. Evenings were spent in shy, earnest conversations in the dimly lit corners of the Bisiriyu compound. Mornings began with a humble feast: slices of bread, fried eggs, and tea. I can still vividly picture Mr. Olayemi Ayo, a fellow poet, sipping tea in front of the large television, sweat glistening on his brow as he later read a poem about his life in Lagos. The image is etched in my memory, a testament to the power of those moments. Lawal Kafayat Gold, Kemistree, Clementina, Oluwatosin Faith Kolawole, Bliss Akinyemi, and several other writers would take turns standing before Mr. Bisiriyu's TV, their voices bringing their poems to life in that makeshift arena of art. At a time when oral traditions and the study of poetry were declining—or by extension, the death of Nigerian education—writers were forming a community to uphold the tradition of language.

Around the same time, initiatives from Poets in Nigeria (PIN) began to flourish in Lagos, expanding the reach of our poetic renaissance. The convener, Mr. Eriata Oribhabor, became a pivotal supporter of Samson's visionary ideas. Under his guidance, PIN launched the Nigerian Students Poetry Prize, the PIN Food Poetry Prize, and several other smaller contests fostered in hubs across the country. Mr. Oribhabor's support extended beyond the conceptual; he provided crucial financial backing to young writers, nurturing talent with both resources and recognition.

At a time when oral traditions and the study of poetry were declining—or by extension, the death of Nigerian education—writers were forming a community to uphold the tradition of language.

In 2015, when Ademola Adefolami and Ewo Chidiebere won the PIN-Rose Residency program, I found myself in Ademola's room, engrossed in deep discussions about poetry. These moments of intense literary exchange became the crucibles in which our craft was refined. I had not learned of the African Poetry Book Fund then. The first time I heard about it, we were huddled in a small room at the Ayotoz Hotel, a dilapidated hotel that Samson’s “Feast of Words”—a poetry and literature festival hosted by WRR—could afford. Chika Jones mentioned that Kwame Dawes sent him an invite to submit to the box set. Imagine the bewilderment in the room. A quick Google search showed us what Kwame Dawes had done and was doing with Chris Abani on the continent. We sat in silence, listening to Chika and Ademola tell us the history of this new industry we were attempting to break into. I was a writer that year. That was all that mattered—being a writer. I hadn’t even thought that years later, I’d be writing this essay from a coffee shop in downtown Oakland. Looking back, I am struck by our fervent desire for growth, which I now realize was born out of the lack of formal institutions. Without established structures and the generosity of older writers willing to throw a few thousand around, we became our own mentors, critics, and champions. We were all we had, and in that scarcity, we found abundance.

Looking back, I am struck by our fervent desire for growth, which I now realize was born out of the lack of formal institutions. Without established structures and the generosity of older writers willing to throw a few thousand around, we became our own mentors, critics, and champions. We were all we had, and in that scarcity, we found abundance.

This grassroots movement, built on the foundations of gatherings like #BeBlessed, WRR, and initiatives like PIN, has played a crucial role in shaping the landscape of contemporary Nigerian poetry. It stands as a testament to the power of community, passion, and perseverance in nurturing literary talent and fostering cultural expression. It is important to mention that, as far as mentorship goes, Nigerian poets Kanyinsola Olorunnisola and Oyindamola Shoola started the SpringNG Mentorship program, which has successfully mentored hundreds of writers, some of whom are now in MFA programs and are award-winning poets.

In Rasak's poem "If You Come Tonight," published in African Writer in 2014, the poet captures this deeply rooted authenticity:

And if you come tonight

To preach to my deaf ears

For I have seen miles before birth

I have rendered my lines with mourning mothers

At unnamed tombs

I have earlier spewed words

Only cureless consolation I received

And if you come tonight

You won’t see me.

This verse underscores Rasak’s burden of inherited memory and his relentless confrontation with suffering, capturing the rawness of the Nigerian experience. I met Rasak for the first time at the Poetry and Palm Wine event hosted by the Arts and Theatre students of the University of Ibadan. That evening, I learned that my childhood friend, Uthman Adejumo, also wrote poetry. We’re drawing poetry from communal and personal experiences. We’re writing into and from the graffiti in our small lives. If the Nigerian poet sings of birds, it’s because pigeons are on electric cables outside their house. If we sing of fire, is the fire of the current political climate not hot enough? We’re closer to our metaphors, in language and in reality. Rasaq’s writing introduced me to language—and not just me; a host of Nigerian writers were studying Rasaq’s deviation from Victorian English into something that feels quite like a night in Iseyin.

We’re drawing poetry from communal and personal experiences. We’re writing into and from the graffiti in our small lives.

James Ademuyiwa and Gabriel Ayomide Festus were among the few emerging writers at that time whose language seemed like a gift from God: fresh, unpredictable, and brilliant. I also argue that the cycle of influence does not end—while writers before us took influences from writers like Pius Adesanmi, JV Verissimo, Lola Shoneyin, Toni Khan, Professor Gbemisola Adeoti, Harry Garuba, Professor Remi Raji, Uche Nduka, Ogaga Ifowodo among others—some of whom were members of Krazitivity, an earlier online community of writers—newer Nigerian writers take influences from the immediate generation before them. My earliest writing was heavily influenced by Gbenga Adesina, who won the 2016 Brunel Poetry Prize with Chekwube Danladi, D.M. Aderibigbe, Salawu Olajide, Shittu Fowora and Funsho Oris, who supplied some of my earliest edits. At the same time, I was writing with Olu Afolabi, Moyosore Orimoloye—one of the most brilliant writers I have ever worked with—Hauwa Shaffi Nuhu, Shade Mary-Ann, James Ademuyi, Mesioye Johnson, Ridwan Adelaja, and others. My first chapbook, For Boys Who Went, was published by Kukogho Samson's Authorpedia in 2016. It went on to become one of the most-read chapbooks at that time.

I cannot underestimate Krazitivity's role in the brilliance and vibrance of Nigerian literature as it migrated from the page to the screen. The online community was pivotal in developing Nigerian literature in the early 2000s. Founded as a Yahoo Group, it served as a virtual gathering place for Nigerian writers, poets, and literary enthusiasts within the country and in the diaspora. The platform facilitated discussions, critiques, and collaborations, fostering a sense of community among emerging and established authors. Notable members of Krazitivity included Nnorom Azuonye, a poet and publisher who later founded Sentinel Poetry, an online platform that provided a space for many Nigerian writers to publish their work. Toni Kan, a renowned Nigerian writer, also participated in the forum, engaging in literary discussions and networking with fellow authors. The forum was instrumental in connecting writers like Molara Wood, Afam Akeh, Pius Adesanmi, Victor Ehikhamenor, Obi Nwakanma, Esiaba Irobi, Ike Okonta, Wale Okediran, Chuma Nwokolo, Uche Peter Umez, Austin Njoku, and Abdul Mahmud, among others.

The understanding that an institution like the African Poetry Book Fund is bridging the gap between African poets, both at home and in the diaspora, and a global audience provided a glimpse into what you can be as a poet. But that felt so far-fetched. We didn't even know it was possible to live the life of a writer. It takes information for the world to open before you. My friends and I started researching, and our dreams started to build. They seemed unreachable, but at least the poet’s life is his dreams. We learned of D.M. Aderibigbe, whose collection was named a finalist for the Sillerman First Book Prize—another initiative of the African Poetry Book Fund—for his manuscript My Mother’s Song and Other Similar Songs I Learnt. The relative scarcity of continent-wide literary opportunities in Africa has played a significant role in shaping the trajectory of Nigerian poetry. Programs like the Brunel International African Poetry Prize, the Sillerman First Book Prize for African Poets, and the African Poetry Book Fund have been crucial in providing platforms for African poets. However, the limited number of such initiatives underscores the systemic challenges facing Nigerian and African poets seeking to reach a wider audience.

We didn't even know it was possible to live the life of a writer. It takes information for the world to open before you. My friends and I started researching, and our dreams started to build. They seemed unreachable, but at least the poet’s life is his dreams.

Because of how competitive it is for African poets—which may also be argued to be one of the reasons why we must be so good— I and six other poets—Agbaakin Jeremiah, Adebayo Kolawole, Pamilerin Jacobs, Michael Akuchie, Wale Ayinla, and Nome Emeka Patrick—started the UnSerious Fellowship, which awards four Nigerian poets annually with financial and editorial support. Some UnSerious Fellows have won the Evaristo Poetry Prize and the Sillerman Poetry Prize. The UnSerious Collective started as a writing group on WhatsApp, which then evolved into an editorial team that worked together to produce the most extensive anthology of Nigerian poetry—Memento: An Anthology of Contemporary Nigerian Poetry, published by Animal Heart Press in 2020. The anthology also ushered in a text that contemplates the substance of Nigerian poetry—the range of language, the fluidity of its metaphors, the cloud of similes, and the barrage of issues the poems discuss. UnSerious Collective has influenced newer collectives and writing groups like the Frontier Collective, sprouting across the country. One of the most influential ways to emerge as a people is if we exist in groups.

The emergence of the WRR Facebook community led to TJ Dan’s now-defunct Praxis Magazine. The magazine published one of the most important queer chapbooks, Burnt Men, by Romeo Oriogun. Around that time, Wale Owoade founded Expound, and Wale Ayinla co-founded DwartzOnline. Agbowo Magazine, which I now lead as the editorial head, started as a collective of writers from the University of Ibadan. The magazine expanded into one of Africa’s most-read literary journals. Magazines and publications, riding on the wing of the global demand for Nigerian literature, now focus on publishing Nigerian voices. Nigerian NewsDirect Newspaper’s online poetry column solely dedicates itself to amplifying Nigerian voices. In a similar fashion, Poetry Sango-Ota—edited by Michael Akuchie and Jakky Bankong-Obi and chaired by Pamilerin Jacobs and me—reserves its monthly archive to platform Nigerian poets. Maybe why we enjoy what the world would imagine as a confident presence is that we’re creating these platforms for ourselves. During a project review with Pamilerin, I suggested we expand Poetry Sango-Ota to the Black diaspora, since we get submissions from the larger Black community anyway. But Pamilerin, whose mind is a wonder, argued that while the Black diaspora has several institutions, communities, magazines, residencies, and grants, Nigerians do not. And truly, we’re creating opportunities for ourselves, providing spaces for the next generation of writers, working and hoping that something like a miracle happens so we can preserve and archive the work we’re doing now.

In 2016, I created a WhatsApp group called "Growth is Coming," where we discussed poems for several days. We wrote and edited each other's work, preparing for a time like this. One of the participants, Toby Abiodun, became one of the most celebrated spoken word poets in Africa today. It seemed we had been doing all this wonderful work in our formative years, and the world was only catching up. But this was not the only writing group at that time. I was added to a small, closed group of writers that had Hauwa Shaffi, Daisy Odey, Salawu Olajide and Saddiq Dzukogi. We wrote, submitted, wrote and fought.

… we’re creating opportunities for ourselves, providing spaces for the next generation of writers, working and hoping that something like a miracle happens so we can preserve and archive the work we’re doing now.

There is always that person whose success helps redefine the movement. Although Gbenga Adesina had won the Brunel Prize a year prior, when Romeo Oriogun won the Brunel Prize in 2017, something shifted in our community. A year prior, the “Growth is Coming” community discussed the poems of Danez Smith, Sam Sax, Hanif Abdurraqib, Safia Elhillo, and Ladan Osman—whose workshop I attended at the Lagos International Poetry Festival in 2015—alongside other poets who seemed to form a collective of writers exploring the body in new, visceral ways. We jokingly called them the “Beotis Poets” that year (after the literary agency they were signed to). We studied their work closely, examining how they approached identity, trauma, and intimacy. Yet, it wasn’t until Romeo won the Brunel Prize that it began to feel like Nigerian poets could enjoy more audacity to be bolder, more daring, and precise in their poems because Romeo had broken a threshold.

Until 2017, many of us were writing from the outside in, dabbing our wounds with metaphors and tiptoeing around our intricate struggles. Romeo’s winning poems challenged this approach. They were fearless and unflinching,......."

I feel like joining the movement right away even as oldie.

Zero hour of silence

At zero hour of silence I was born 

But mankind gave it a date and a time 

And when I leant beyond death,they still called it a date into great beyond of the Cosmos and barely felt a qualm about it 

No more qualm about it silence unfurled

Silence unruffled determines everything 

I live forever beyond the pines and wears of nature whose gorgeous gorge had eternity stamped in my golden coats

A feast Of Silence

Nothing matters for the winds

Than the welfare of it's neighbors

Time and silence 

Does it not matter to them that 

Time travels in the environment of his master change whereof any altercation 

Whatsoever pounced them back to calmness the silver home of silence 

Must change shouts beyond itself

That time might miss the road and the flight goes off in the arms of Morpheus?

The crack in the walls is becoming bigger 

No one cares nothing even change tis noises die down at the silver home of 

silence and who has the audacity to silence silence and who can tame invincible deity of tranquility and transport its tranquil bliss from the aromatherapy of its loin to stray it from the erogenous glows of the main mission and vision?

Does time the computer of existence where all the chaos perpetrated alongside change ever matter when they cease to matter at the strangulated corridor of silence to denote the power of her tranquil bliss at golden moment of tranquil waves?

May you never appreciate the gloss of mothernature at the eulogy of the sea waves of tranquility in utter pride of the computer which barely get the data to run itself unless it keeps her mouth shot at the mercy of that tranquil web of silver silence who owns all the esteem and  intergrity 

Time and change, could linger and loiter with the dignity mothernature accords them as long as they accord with the golden esteem for their golden routine 

And golden robes that only silence,the true mothernature of existence and all exist someday returns to silence through death

But I the spirit of mothernature tawdry forever in the golden resort of no resort 

Knights of Old.part four

Knights and knaves 

The conundrum at alupluto riddled the palms of the knights and knaves

And wherewithal beyond impuissant knots

To pelt it with fracas at smothered fest

The monarchy at maledectine ere his dethronement had knighted the Maximus at the exit from monastery 

A deconium had eloped aftermath of the dethronement and initiation at the sorcerer's stone,had earned few accolades prior to knighthood long thereafter the exit from the monastery and incursion into the pyrates league.

And thus began he the brown study the tapestry of the knighthood steeped in the thralldom of the serfs, liegemen and vassals.

At his sordid home the golden morn was broken and the atmosphere was warm,upon his couch sat in the home front and tumultuous tumulus adorned epaulettelike apparel alongside esplanade veered into his compound approached him afar off at esprit de corps happified with the espionage for espousal who was also knighted prior to eventide and now pours his errant gusto for the title that epicurean Maximus considered 'horror clamours.'

And before him lay an escritoire holding his ink pen and a cup of espresso sipped at interval and two plates of escalopes a an afficionado affectionate of elevenses wore elastaned raiment of dungarees and deerstalker across the elbow room plastered with drystones.

As if with dry run belched his eulogy of personal accolades 

"Maxim my darling noble have I not been knighted as you were in donkey age,what dubious distraction cluttered thy bone to lucre thy guerdon with thy endowment?"saith he with green eyes raptured upon bellyaching navel.

His holistic detest in this emetic effluvium of dystopian eerie knows no bounds .

Bittersweet bits of black and white dissents binned navels with berserk.Rather than he to duck the retort and drool,emetic droop of banter ignited banter to scold his drivel.

"Felons in their bones, felons in their sinews, felons in their navels.This spirit of thralldom quest for disgusting refrain to assume the petty mantle of knighthood steeped in brutal repression of the knaves and knots ,fawns of serfs and liegemen waffling beneath them.

O squirearchy thy spindles of injustice art no bound

Barely history could exculpate them the quagmire of sprawling crease of cringing dustbowls at alupluto forest, riddled in brutal repression of the vassals and the serfs .Accomplices of mutineers, fifthcolumnists and the squirearchy and pyrates from the north country.

Knights turning into knaves what did the knight do?If I may ask what is your joy or riddance?"

"What denotes in your wildest coat of repugnant taste?"

"You re knighted by the lord's to his allegiance otherwise you risk hell.dishevelled Knights not always the transparent robes like any typical bimbo ". didactically mushed the grit.

Knights And The Sinews.

Sauntered dark,chemise in whirlpool bath saunteed in sauna bath 

Sarcoma, carcinoma of knavery and tumefaction of knackery 

In the corpulence,sarcous,of ultramarine,teal,saphire, in the porcine,podgy,torquoise of azure earth

O in the tubby , chunky of the ample time 

Blue green tombolo , cerulean sandbank 

Shallow -reef at the zaftig and beryled erose

A pounce on the khamsin, shaitan,simoom,siroco, sandstorm, waning on the front

Tis the quarrying lay redress of golden sarong,pannier,tutu,culote,midi,kilt, petticoat 

And girdled to the  waistband, cummerbund, casement, cincture,obi, ribbon ,sash

The sanctimony of sandspout, tartuferry and black blizzard 

And lo the sandy haired ,auricomous, platinum, strawberry, towheaded sandwiches as the golden knights ,

Not for once did they prance,flounce,glide,strut,sashay

Nor revel in the deli, subway shops,charcuteries, sandwich shops,

Nor skewered food,shish kebab,shish kabob in the deli

But gourmands, edacious, ravenous,omniverous,satings at skewered food in trenchwarfare still unquenched 

Save the kneads of the scarturient, torrential,superabundant, cornucopian knaves,scaredycats, poltroons,recreants,dillydallyers, slowpokes and yellowbellies 

Shlocks,shabby, gossip mongering pretentious , shoddy, inglorious, blabbing makeshift , scandal mongering, rumour mongering dingies,

Scapegoats,scapegraces, scumbags, scallywags,scopophilia

 ,peepers,voyeaurs,oglers,watchers,

Somewhat tagged ", shrinking violets"

In this didactic gloss of the stormy epic

Plummeted by the egregious taints of conscription 's quarryings.

With restitution of chastity, knighthood

Dancing browbeats, spooks,chilli, cows,affrights, 

At the desolation, hotspots,path of destruction,scene of destruction 

As smackdabbed sleunthhounds with edge of the blazing swords 

Egregiously scared the daylights out of pyrates and the ilks

Unlike the knaves,as the screaming meemies,bootsnakes,blue devils,the heebie-jeebies,blue Johnies,pink elephants and dementia apotus,

The dearth of jabber,prates,prattle,tattles, blather,blether, wiggle waggles and schmoozes

Nor dancing sedition, insurgency, insurrection and defiance

O with the scavenger hunt and hare and hounds 

Of the scarlet women,whores, evening ladies to abode their tents

Strike the chord with unflinching swordmen .

And not dancing seesaw,teeter totter , or vacillate 

Fast evasive segue with sleets on sleighrides

Cast over this simoom of seismic sea waves, white horses,tidal bore,giant seas swell,

Six feet beneath , catacombs,cinerarium, mausoleum,ossuary,sepulture

Stood still to watch and receive the demise of pyrates'pyramid  

Sequacious and setiferous knights ,in sack clothes and ashes, indulgent in raucous shrift, deafening,shrilling mortification .

Garrison

Beautiful fortress returns 

Gliding towers barely fade

Garrison of hardihood 

That hardly fails

According to the 

Bard of alupluto 

Is nothing but everything 

Knighthood of the golden hills.part one

Give thy ear to everyone but borrowed not and lend not that which is learnt

To censure thy verdict maybe a costly tarnish to thy purse

Prejudices expressed in fancy clothes of gaudying clouds 

For the best buys and nines,oft proclaims the true machismo

And they in their generous station chief in mischief and vile in misfortune 

Neither a crevice nor  crimson forsooth 

For the cavalier oft chaste himself and otherworldly ounces 

And burnish creases the edge of the sheathed swords 

Swordsmen wrestling the crest for the golden hills 

Swordsmen wield their panache at his ordinands,

Swore never to annex tis his grail of writ unctions

Knights kneaded beyond knaves scuttled the seething waves 

Beneath him they strike stuck to the scalpel 

In panache he held his scabbard, receptacle, trenches'integument,not lowered,

Apparently pulling his cartridges,spathe , canister off the riverbank ,

As abominable snowman,yeti, sasquatch,rakshasa ,

O bigfoot from the sand dunes,lava bed , badlands, wilderness cramped to the shore,

Butyraceous, saponaceous sapplings, cringing verdure,at his loathe,

Not to demean the aesthetics of the flora,

The dough,grumpy grime,on the rat race poultice,sponge,sarocarp, triturate,pomace seem not yet solidifies to nail the carton,the sarcophagus,the funerary box 

At the pinebox and pinto of the golden valley .

Who flings away your angels of ambition and ambivalent salvation

For self mettle that tires thee with willful stillness of anger

To quash gravity of wisdom from unruly caste of profound conceit?

To ope broken tongues and it's broken troths that cannot bark 

And say nothing hellish to avarice with no ears in broken flights

The noble dog barks at the beggar in miserly beggardom,

Who has not creature of manifold parts 

To gloat and run from the cur?

Neither the cur nor the curlique ever dance the cupid dance 

At the lush of filthiest lucre o filthy lucre how filthiest thou are?

Could craft burnish at every pelting thunderstorm at merciful heaven?

Proud artifice above the gnarled oaks

Poignant noses with sulphurous bolt

With gloss of glassy essence,soft myrtle drest in scabbard of beautiful dreams 

Does the beauty of thy goodness maketh the heavens and the angels weep,

Who coat grace and hardihood with quirky complexions?

Then shallow and shallow shall thy benediction be undervalued 

Braggarts in vain sands rambling with the municipality of munches and much ado about nothing 

"These dreary foxes would not kill me"

Maximus had screamed bared his misgivings of the true companions 

Then they censure front loading calumny even as they lube in the back loading calumny 

Slanderous tongues on faint deeds condone knights of hollow goodness 

Where fain comfort spake to theft of empty pledges

This silken thread on a charmed aches agonized with words of broken tongues 

To fetter the moon shone on a waning candles 

Merchants of conscience in the enterprises of guilt, cowardice of all

Then he wears a golden happify at the blossom of golden valley 

The dress of dread of something after dread

Makest us bear fruit even though beyond the pitfalls and contraption of those pitches we have seen 

Than fly into arcane ground to read the epitaph of broken pitches and dilapidated dreams

How oft the sight of calumny tarnished the feet of the gods with miscarriages of broken dreams fallen on broken pitches 

To make grievous tales irreversible and irrevocable 

From the dungeon of recklessness and ruthlessness.

That hurts by easing the spendrift sighs 

Skin and film the delusions of ulcerous clangs,

Not the expedition to lay the faltering ego and egregious unction of the humbled soul

But that maximus leaps with golden palms for golden hills 

And that makes all the difference from the badlands to the river bank at abesi.

Alakazam of beautiful forest and aesthetic ornery awaits him in manor houses

Teach yourself wisdom that no accretion could outsport discretion 

When wherefore art thou been cabined,cribbed and cramped with saucy doubts and dread.

A surfeit of equivocation over the deepest loathings 

The stomach brings from boundless intemperance and intemperate ribs cracked

Before they re goaded with mysterious cannonballs 

Fired from the cannons of fading muskets 

The ragged cups of falsehood and delusions are full

We went berserk still ride in triumph where abject fortitude became the threatening eyes

Bidding farewell and farewell to the golden valley 

From the  arms of the Morpheus dancing gigolo 

Wedlock the archipelago of golden hills.

.

Because

I make my beliefs come true

Because 

I make my trust in my verdict

Come true

I make my dreams come true 

Because 

I make my beliefs in my verdict 

Comes true 

Hamiltonian America.Chapter 10.Leonine Strides.page 8

"Who called him "little lion"?"

"Of course you know that.You know what? Remind me this one.You know the guy in question was older than him by ten years was a respected lawyer too like Williams.He hailed from Alexander, Virginia."

"Of course it was Robert H. Harrison"

"Exactly.A neighbour to Washington.He had lots of ovation for a man of his age was certainly phenomenal.I reworded the little lion as leonine strides to classify this chapter's character.You know Tench Tilghman  too"

"Hardly "

"He was the guy Washington called "faithful servant" having met for half a decade.A comrade that started from a light infantry company in Philadelphia.Washinghton also call him "a zealous servant," and a slave to the American dream.These are some of the young amiable working class aides through which he displayed familiar warmth.James McHenry came later to administer aids to Hamilton's ailments He had studied under Benjamin Hush and when he became aides to Washington,he treats his maladies and every summer reoccurrence of malarial infection,a childhood inheritance of tropical birthplace.He had advised him to avoid milk and drink wine though little notore than the three bottles per day.Mchenry was a poet too like Hamilton and was part of inhouse minstrels entertaining Washington households".

"Those aides don't they like women?"

"Apparently they do.They organised parties too and sneaked in with romantic flings .The details were archived in McHenry's diary . Though perpetrated during passive intervals in the spring many wives of high ranking officers from Martha Washington,Mrs Greene and Mrs Knox,Lady Stirling and daughter lady kitty organized bouncing parties in evening."

"So Hamilton was promiscuous."

"Yes he was.He had so many ladies to flirt with.He rekindled romance with old lover daughter of his first patron Catherine Livingston.Also daughter of the first governor of the independent state of new jersey William Livingston.Hence besides her he flirts rapidly at Morristown.

 Nevertheless,in 1777 he began the most intimate friendship of his life with John Laurens as new recruit to the Washington's family.He came from Southern Carolina the son of one of the most influential planters .He succeeded in November John Hancock as the president of the continental Congress.They had a lot in common with the Huguenot and the British sides.Ron Chernow called spiritual twins or kindred spirits and was better than any friend Hamilton ever had.He was born in Charleston, South Carolina few months before Hamilton was born in Nevis

and was enrolled in Geneva, Switzerland at a cosmopolitan college at a time Hamilton was struggling as a clerk in St.Croix.It was from Geneva that he planned to become a barrister and by 1774 at the middle Temple in London also studied law.He was a follower of the abolitionist movement too like Hamilton studied law during the period of antislavery movement and slavery was banned in England.It was spurred by legal Mansfield 's legal decision that a slave that enters England is declared automatically free.When he desired to return the father was disappointed that the son had become the abolitionist and the sense of fighting in the war of independence that could lead to his demise worried the father so much .He gre in radicalism with the emergence of the Common Sense's pamphlet by Thomas Paine in 1776 all the more fired his anger.He was trapped in England for a while after he impregnated Martha Manning the daughter of wealthy man his father's friend William Manning and had to wed her secretly and returned to Charleston later to join continental army four months after the birth of his daughter.He won Washington's trust who then gave him confidential missions after signatory.They became unbreakable bond and write him with so much unbridled affection never elsewhere seen in his rapport with other aides .Infact they were styled "as the knights of the revolution"and it was said he had developed an adolescent crush on his friend giving the prevalence of sodomites or pederasty especially in the Caribbean during the time of Hamilton's migration to America.They latter formed a common bond with a third guy marquis de Lafayette nineteen a young French noble and a honorary major general in the continental army.He was so appointed on July 31,1777 and so they became gay trio.

Hamiltonian America.Chapter 10.Leonine Strides.page 7

"I think Charles Wilson Peale drew the first portrait of Hamilton."

"Yeah a Washington 's staff when he visited the new jersey headquarters with a miniature of ivory drew the first portrait.It was tinted with gold epaulets and the aide de camp's green ribbon adorned in a blue and buff uniform.With long poignant nose and close cupped hair portray the visage an radical look and not yet with the trait of metropolitan spirit of self assurance a typical demeanor of Hamilton.His face grew from thinness to broaden the width as he age and grew older and broader than his daper class.

Nevertheless for an orphan from the Caribbean to spend the rest of his life at the top echelon of American society the most elite family,this is no mean achievement.He was quartered at the Jacob Tavern 's library that gave him an intimacy at the top military army and could summon aides at any time.Wasinghton was satisfied to keep the staff in one building for the easiness of managing schedules and also located small office to keep obligations intact.About four to six sides abode in one room,with two to bed in a single room in long working days.They copied a hundred letters per day and lavished with random surviews ,dancers and parades.Out of all the aides,he was the youngest most confidential scribe and draft all Washington's letters.Affirm."

"Nothing to affirm?"

"Washington's army valued more intelligence of upward mobility than the European armies top heavy with aristocrats an outdated tradition according to him and this picturesquely portrait of the American army system with tradition allowed him to rise rapidly into a full blooded American with high level political services.The continental army provided the pristine  Hamilton an immigrant whose special love for the adopted country unleashed the template to redefine the non existent American political system with the notion of the American nationalism.His presence at the headquarter according to Nathaniel Greene created "as a bright gleam of sunshine ever growing brighter as the general darkness thinkened"."Frank, affable,intelligent and brave young Hamilton became the favorite of his fellow soldiers"says Harrison Grays Otis who was later a senator.He was capable of making both friends and enemies and "..….make those whom he opposed fear and hate him cordially",says Lawyer Sullivan Williams.He could create psychological trauma than he realized and unwinnable in debates even before seasoned politicians and intelligent folks.

Golden Knights at Maledectine

The reprisal was absolute reprieve ever since the quarrying.Ere the quarrying perfidious knaves scuttled the battle bins.They rose with upright leaps on horsebacks and battlements tarried eventides and struck from the forest at abesi.

The swift hungry river bank abesi's thirstying for the blood of the foes

As they move eastward to maledectine the foremost golden lions savaged the fiends a ferocious horde like the swarms of locusts 

Unflattering and unflinching as the leonine prowls in the bloody dens

Plunged swords in the fiendish ranks,clash of steel echoing like thunder 

Knaves And Knights Quarantined.part one

"Take alliquando for instance and aliquanta at aliquanto should be the watchword"

"Oh aliquantum!"

"Aliquid,aliquis growls on your botched coups."

"A trial is never bad.Let them shelve amaritudo."

"Bravo! Your gangsters behold loot alveuses and bazaars at ambitus.Your amplexus at amplitudo was stratospheric 

and ampliocentric breedeth amplus where the umbilical amo had thrived.Haffligeniensis of golden knighthood to carcer the perfidious cariosus of the knaves for the capitulus of the caste.Caritas at carus became the carmen .

Not the knaves in their riverbeds and balconies of brooks and broods."

"At this angulus, quarantine quarrying the knaves was not augustus and prejudiced"

"Yeah seething waves was constrained and not a bin of the argentio pilfered.O great animus.A bundle of animadverto and animus in the most beautiful annus wedded to its salient antepono.

Behold that quarrying lay aperio in aperte to the fathomed search of the golden knights at the apostulus of the abesi forest."

"Appareo ! appareo!! appareo!!!

Appello of the golden knights,approbo and appropinquo towards the golden hills.Bonus mellius optimus."

"Perfectly said"

"Ain't you gonna relinquish the knighthood"

"Certe cerno an indispensable ceernus.  Tis my coronated feet is hewn,and apto and aptus earned at the ara of kingship.We have returned to the trenches fortnightly for the conscription was golden".

"Arbitro,arbitrate indeed was golden "

"Aristobroth prognosticated the great Sullivan's travels".

"I barely knew that.Cogito cognosco."

"Oh he did, inklings stood at first appalling at the nocturnal expeditions at abesi riverbank."

"What argumentum for the otherworldly stars?"

"Palasmus belched the conspiracy of the loots,aresmus had butchered a thousand in the sleepers and jettisoned the spoils and pows not eager for the luring armarium and arcesso of the loots, regardless of armo and arma for daring aro and arguo ."

 "They scaled through atrocitas,asperitas and articulus in wondrous arọ of audencia,audacitas and artificiossus ."

"Eureka "

"Shallow!"

"Now we go plunge headlong on the morrow "maximus grew in conference of confidence hilts with porous bibo.

Golden Knights of Old.part 3D

Vulnerary,medicative, remedying ,remedial, alleviative and therapeutic expedition 

Golden Knights of Old.part 3C

Then at river bank abesi's taciturn sentinel 

And introspection 

Coerced the knaves on a sabbathical retreats 

A sabre rattling gusto to repel perfidy off the 

And the furlough was egregiously  minacious an indefinite order of sabbathical leave 

"The knaves are not knight and now we have the golden knights for the salad days."bleeding memento Mori or sad spectacle.

Ere the exit of the monarchy,at maledectine,the rusticated monarch grew maximus into a lord from knighthood and these knights beneath him serfs and liegemen hardly retreats from farmfields.Squirrels had served him and hold the forth to quell the exuberant pride of squirearchy on the farm fields.

Then thralldom had plotted this horizon for exploitation.

A dozen knights beneath his lordship hold the fronts and still held to the title until the reprisal battle against the great Sullivan's travels at Sarabesa tis the revolt to enthrone him at abesiland's.

Sullivan's entry was alien to the stratagem of warfare 

And scary winces of the wasp and bees nest him to stardom in the shortest tingle of time.

The Knights of Old.part 3b

It is trite where odious precepts maul gallivanting hood 

How artfully doth the hood at stalking broth, unbundles the hails and galls at measly pawn slavish to slay the burning froth.

Apparently how that vanity of phantom doth leaks to expose vacuity of arts at the melee of rampage

Travellers beneath this pew of wits shall traverse beyond the stoneages of antiquity 

 From the alluring notes of the huntsmen and the hunted, the haunted and the dreary foxes,

Ungrateful critics even in their encomiastics, perfidy swore them to defend their tricks in chicanery of spoken jest and jeering hearts

Sloshed into the sorcery of magician isle,

Dainty spirit in the wild sea of sorcery beguiled moon beneath his embattled lush

Not the mensrea of psycho,plodding at pliant steps as if its wit is trapped in oubliette 

And the psychical thrift of the machismo to drift from idealism into positivity of positivism

To play possum at the writ of feigned nesciency 

For the plethora of wit beyond pleonasm from the plexus of possum plaited,

Insomuch the wit as the plinth upon which plexus bounteous plows

Eureka they coast to shore of estuary as the eulogy of eves 

That ambit of aura the factual aether prowling grotes with more than ethereal etiquette an esteem for a materialistic essay 

Those writs poignantly disposes escapistic eschew from eschatological to scatological

To robe evasive sinew with wherewithal of the greenfield 

The dainty spirit Maximus in reprisal of pyrate's acrimony gone sour

Grew into a grandiloquent fortress 

To quash the thunderstorm and lightning butst over the isles of Alupluto's tragicomedy 

"Can you recall the prior conquest at maledectine?The imperious chaos at public squares doting mother's battling still births,scary ailments, emaciated peasants, mischievous urchins,street gangsters, paradise of brothels and sloths,indebted artisans,secluded bourgeousies, petit bourgeoisies, parvenu on the escalate via abrupt demise,untimely cloaks, pestilential Economia marred the blinking elves.

Not the peasants 'cronyism to groan but also gnomes 'n'zurich smothered with dearth of public harmony.

Arise let the gangs launch reprisal against the union.The vendetta with encroaching wings had reared its ugly head across the board upon the slaughter of abesiland's forest.Arise and arrest the pestilence."

"Let the Conscription at Abesi retreats from fracas and grace let it summon the golden time from the miscarriage of broken times.The kismet at alupluto's bizarre as it seems fall upon the shoulders of glossy stars.Sifting the knaves from the fringes of knighthood,only afford us a soft ball landing at the shuddering distance."

And lo repose him the confidence hilts And before the sun goes down they went down to abesi

As keen sentinel of the trenchwarfare and warring combatants 

Hardly refrain from elongated shelling, blading,matchetes'brandishing, unsheathing and musketeering 

Where munitions and infernos of cannons 

At repressive cannonades battered the pitiable woods.

Across the adjoining cities feloned with amplitude of booties 

Scary machupelahs broke into bazzars and marketplaces 

Peasants'wares smoked with inferno and looting sprees on the escalade petrified metropolitans 

Then in refrain of his disconsolate ire, Maximus conversed him"How come the battles were won but looters skyrocketed and pillaged the relics to phantom opulence or stiffled the ways and means of the misers and peasants?"

"Now thy logics to me senses spake.We shall quarantine the knaves from the knights and knight the golden lions or the golden stars 

Not the perfidious tents of the knaves."

"You pluck your verdict abnittio accordingly ".

A dozen times over a dozen blessed blokes did they retract?

Of course nope and ever since sunny times breathes upon their rampaging union .

Knights of old.part Three

Aristobroth messenger in the third fortnightly rampage of nocturnal expeditions uttered him mystery of the knight of old:

"That fairest creatures looketh in thy glass

To boo discretion at the weevils of distraught palmwl where blinks and wrinkles of golden charm retrieve saline meeds from the bounteous usurer whose turpitude the the sea waves had sedate friction to lapse lovely gaze over doting eyes which confound him with beguiling sports of nebulous sorcery and animadversion of hideous winter whose sapped energy defrost lusty leaves and nightmare of broken petals 

Distilling showers never lose the mists of golden snows couched upon stallion of forbidden usury with season's crotchety feet and ragged hands forty times happify that dearth's conquest of wormwoods,thorns and thistles adrift,pleading homage adorned over golden pilgrimage of hindmost pitch and feeble dotards catchy tune to soften mood

Why nearest and dearest and hearest thy catchy tune to soften teasing mood?

To the layman war is nefarious venture but the men at arms,it is sweet as the honey baked with forlorn sight.Unions sweetly chide cannot offend the ensnare of the doting love.No one cursed speechless songs beneath murderous intents of unprovident earth seeking bounteous roofs for gracious homes

Look whom nature best bestowed thee he giveth it blessed dawn and blessed dusk.

Sumptuous drill denies scrupulous forests

Whose forester mineralogist of the golden hills drags the weary feet beyond briskly erose where season 's green beastly bearded meadows briefly stoop to forlorn loop at time 's scythe of the golden season not from the constant stars do we pluck the verdict of the golden stars .That barren gardens smother with dearth of maiden wombs.Should men of rage be flushed with fallen waves and be scorned with the golden moisture of heavenly eyes.

The golden lion's paws of forlorn hills shall not waiver to make the earth devours his sweet little brood

Tis all migrating birds return to the spring to nap and sing 

Where broken jaws and singing feet encrust the migratory birds with forlorn loop gliding the amazing nature with the love 's use of the earth's golden treasure.

Gilded esteem glide over everlasting bliss 

Roses of flowers cast over gliding swing of glamourous fortress audacious violet barely chide above the straits of the chilling fog that paradise is abjectly bare if it has less and dearth of golden stars in it

Beauty and loves daggered the broken realm with compassionate effigy 

Heaven bless he that deals his own soul by despatch of golden news

Fists of disparate messenger of peace aristobroth plead the fallen tide to arise

And summon rising tide.

Boors and moors only seek to summon rising tide leavened messenger of peace with smoky muskets 

Knights of Old.part two

Fortnightly nocturnal expeditions of the enigmatic engross abjectly fettered his elfinish feet and barely overlapped the fishermen in broad daylight.

Eldritched elision with elixir at sorcerer's potion trumped to the effusion of sorcery,beguiled him with belligerent charm in the battle fields

Behold it grew the monstrousity of the bird's eye view of the  birdwatcher .

A bird of prey held in the bingo of trenchwarfare and gunning for the impending pyrhic triumph at the battlefields

Not yet cinsumated the golden billows to quest his clubs of afficionados.

Nor old greybeard pointificating him the billets 

Nor the billiards tabled to begin yet his conscription at abesi

O tis the sorcery beguiled him insulated moors 

"Aristobroth why art thou the eagle in the quest for mine prowl ?" Saith to him as the broken mists of the waves readjusted its seething friction of chaos for the serene dust

"Gallantry gallantry gallantry 

Hardihood hardihood hardihood 

Gifted garb anoints golden feet's

Plenipotentiaries of golden hills 

Never found wanton servile to 

The Alakazam of golden hills 

Golden stars the same with golden palms.

Arise for the pyrates union and Confederate 

Begone from the fringes of monastery 

Barely you fight thy matriarch in the ding ding with clergyman.

Adhere the bingo saith unto thee adhere!"

"How shall I...."as smokes in the clouds cluttered his sight and Aristobroth vanishes and with clarity of drenched forehead and medulla,open sesame of sorcery utterly unleashed at the open hearth of inscrutable incantation,caught in the orotund rain of immaculate nap tis sunrise.

That operattalike as if with trial by ordeal, trial by fortune and optical illusion 

Illustrate the optimal frenzy of the illustrious klieglights and sallowed his ordinands.Rigged beyond the otherworldly ounces of sorcery a bewitching outbalanced sports,overcast and outworn over cloud 

O now much less overgrowth with emboldened charms of pixilated triumphant,and impending overmaster .

Knight Of Old.part one

Take a cock for the  cock and bull before cockcrow 

And raise the cocksure cock-a-hoop at your conceited cocktail 

A codger's cob with a coarsened cobber tilted as the cockpit 's resort for cockeyed cockfighting,

Who cobbles and coddles up erring cockscomb and cobwebs of his cockeyed foibles 

Where codswallop at cod up was cocooned with coded verdict 

Does the colloquy and the collision ever matter at the plucked verdict 

To combat the color blind and colour fast comatose of bellyaching navel

That barely commiserate at no comparator of compendious dent with the commission of injustice?

Does it ever matter for complaisant compatriot as abused component in a conclave of cognoscentis,be slapped still with the pawn of injustice beyond repair 

Smothered with such context of compound fracture of the human mores with no defense whatsoever?

Does it ever matter for the imperious conclave or confraternity or connoisseur of the confided persons who dole out confidence tricks and swindles at the lush of sinecure ?

Erroneous consummate bird smothered with contusion 

Like a conscientious objector might chided

And contumely assault the integrity of convocation 

Convened to obtain redress of the checkered but undissimilar faux pas 

Then pours diatribes on this convention

Who is conversant with convicts of its convex

Will his cooption not denies this convolution with the cookery of coos and convulsion?

Once bitten twice shy and who perhaps cooped them into menial junction 

As the dingy clouds of a cow,a coquette  a courtesan of the cordon bleu 

Who flirts away beneath the copula of copper bottomed corbels 

Essential mores with the contemporaries in the streets of easy virtues,

What a cordite,a corker with the corkscrew of corrective corrolary in corporeal terms!

Alupluto wails the corruscating spikes in their nebulous corteges and the cosmetic mendacity that appends costermongers of injustice

Coup de grace on the thunderstorm strike,

Cramped ,crabbed ,crammed into the nebula of cozened cronyism and cramed lawn manned by coxcombs and cowardices 

Behold this creed up the creek curn out banana republic 

A closet and battlements of nefarious creme de la creme 

Crevices of cretinous and crestfallen crepuscular 

Who feed on the crocheted crevasses of daylight robbery and crossworded crow of crimson injustice 

Crossbow upon crossfire, gunfight, dastardly ,crotchety gunfire hurled from cruciform of crow's feet at the crescendo of wrath and wars.

Avail them daydream deflect them with the delusions and palliatives to veil deep seated decoys and defecate this decoy in defiance unceasingly 

Emasculating the dejure path and deification of dejure from delirious seasons of dejavus.

Not merely debar them deluxes of the dejure delicatessen 

But demagogues daemonised in their demagoguery 

Blackballed crow's feet from the knight of old

Detract path of probity, dillydally,botched ,not as truthful as the knight of old 

Masqueraded egregious dimples underneath with diminuendo 

To dim the Dionysian amplitude of the ding dongs and dilated dins

Already heavily diffused across the public realms 

And douse elegy and dirge of the broken circus 

Yet the dirty words was diffused beyond dire of its dirty looks and dirty works.

Disparate and disingenuous bellies 

Where the dragnets downhill downbeatened 

'Who arrest the draconian drawbacks from dress rehearsal and theatrics to the final straw?"saith the old greybeard to the messenger of peace at the Alakazam coast at maledectine.

Then he dribble his retort and with draightiness of drawling accent .

Then raised him the drawbridge of prevision

And still find it hard to glide at the drawing board.

Then saith he to him"Have you met the golden lion?"

"What?"

"The battle royale shall throw them up in the dreary sinister of events.Behold their fugue man little Maximus cometh to the riverbank at abesi at noon.Behold him spectacle and aprise the golden news of impending expedition "

"Shall I stay at the coast?"

"Observe the coast at the noon"vamoosed the old grey beard into thin air

Where aristobroth was seated in the encroaching shore of roaring waves.

Then cometh he little Maximus dredging for pearls and droopy eyesore woke him up for the banter in the thin drizzle and invoke the jabber of the expedition:

"Saith the old greybeard's oracle.Arise to quell pyrates in your land."

"Who hath known the minnows in the dunghill to lord him with the trigger 

To quell the pyrates rampage and dirty work at alupluto 

Wield of matchetes and sword shall be ransom for his life and eclipses of eccletic runs.Chances like eggshell Chinese may pass for the graveyard "

"Old greybeard's elves,your elbow grease for the pyrates 'purgatory .A lush of elixir frequent the coast adhere to the nocturnal visit and shalt become indoctrinated."

The Conscription At Abesi

What a lodestar an enchidiron's eminence grise , wire puller, kingmaker bedazzling,emit light 

Shimmering from the tag end , the caudal appendage ,waggering tail end,empennage 

Shooting beyond demulcent, emollient, palliative 

Defying the emotag,the emoticon of damp squid's emplacement 

Rusticated for sunny times pigeon holed for the same spot

What emptor ,the vendee,the sucker barters to avert enteralgia at repulsive, rebuke and engarde,

Beyond the spirit,the empressment of the emphysematous freezing point 

For the transmundane,empyral ,seraphic,supernal and Olympian heights save the crude lores of a clairvoyant?

Loud breaths of empty talk gossipping , talk talk,palaverous rhetorics rent apart the air,

Not to rift ennoblement apart in the escalade,in decoy of the shattering traverse

At the seams of ensanguined , blood spatered,hematic accident for the crimson snob of grisly drifts

Pasturage,vittles,straws,ensilage,provenders,grubs,barleys ,meals,forages,hays, animal foods and corns,

Visualised,entified,hypostatized, substantialised and metamorphosed,

At opulent amplitude symptomatic of the sunny times,

A spellbound at ensorcelled fiat charm

And decoy grenades of crimson precision 

Towards the golden hills 

Like the prothalamic, hymeneal,espousal,epithalamic and bridal knot,

A clairvoyant as the old greybeard exteriorises the floodgates of the golden stars

In their stampedes of the Olympian heights of golden hills,

Otherwise maggots,worms and entozoons, cater pillars, centipedes 

Could decoy with times, the treasure trove of the clairvoyants 

Arise at dawn for the Olympian bliss to avert the encroaching neolith, emasculating eoliths and petrifaction by paleoliths,

Behold the quest of safari,the squadron of entrada,the caravan of dreams,

Wayfarers, voyagers,at peregrinatory junkets,

In cavalcades of cruises enroute the Dreamland 

Waowed the golden feet of the golden stars

To slay the pestilential and dancing epizootic mess at alupluto.

O behold the eremitic ,pillarist,solitarian, solitaire and reclusive golden lions 

Trumped to bade swan song, parting shot,envoi, epilogue and cheerio 

To quagmire of the wilderness sands, ramblings of the hoodlums and the pyrates at gangsters streets,

For the rising aeos and the denticulated aurora of golden hills 

Basking in the euphoria of the static pitch, resilient erose, crenated,emarginated ,incised and serrated leaps of the golden lions

In their burlesque dance,strip show and  erotic dance that stimulated the golden dreams of conquest 

Bondmen,the esnes of dreams carted away their animal spirit 

Into the antiquity of ideologues from the oracle of greybeard's 

O cast them rubescent,erubescent, incarnadine,cerise and blushing treasures of the gallantry 

Encruxed over claretic gallery of standing ovation

Trumpeting across the ill fated google of the wilderness sands.

To liberate beyond the nightmare of euphemistic eudaemonia's sake their fellow varlets and liegemen

From the thrall of squirearchy's slothful farmfields,

And lo they summoned their escadrille, squadrons and battalions 

At the river bank at abesi for conscription 

What evaluative criticism,what subjective evaluation incensed this floodgate?

Of course banana republic of hurly burly was agonizingly agog 

Across this splash of raptured cemeteries and indignant retribution searing apart alupluto's 

Hence evulsion o evulsion clamp and clamour for its downpour 

Behold this exclave,neck of the woods,terrene, stomping ground,

Implore golden lions for the bate, blacklist,blackball, proscription and repudiation of these miasma of golden valleys.

Not the gallantry of the foot soldiers their bane but the opacity of holistic expedition and counter-kleptomaniac odyssey 

Expunction ,tirade of impeachment, animadversion, exprobation, denunciation, disparagement,took abesi forest by storms 

Trash the medley of conscriptables and bowdlerized, decontaminate,black out,Exscind and then launder the enchidiron's list like a laundromat 

To rinse the righteous intents to the last penny

A handful of expedition unveiled the fragile intent of kleptomaniac goofs and boots from abesi and sarabesa 's bazzars

Looted in broad daylight to pass the nincompoops quarrying of quarantined  verdict .

The abiding disciples had coalesced into the cabal of golden lions

With the mission to exssicate and dessication of the swindling pyrates at alupluto's.

Survival of the fittest

We survived thereafter in Lagos with the kind of uncommon success that Nigerians often yearn for that very midas touch that many unfortunately never succeeded in garnering home in a lifetime.The secret of longevity sometimes can be satisfaction and achievement of lifetime goal and living a stress free life.To be candid Lagos is stressful and Lagos life is stressful but we survived it and if one cannot get a life line and a helper in Lagos or good jobs or good business one may find it hard like many to survive that is for those who lack the capacity thereafter in a lifetime lift .From the stress in housing , transportation,jobs down to career life the task of survival is highly demanding and you often ask yourself the role of the government and the private sector in granting relief and what type of relief do they need to grant to the working man?As we know a working man a stressful man and the stress that is killing the working man is not just the stress of work alone but extramaterial work stress related to peerage pressure,marital pressure,career pressure,mental and psychology pressure pressure that comes from alimony,health pressure, pressure from expenditures and allied emergencies not covered in the pension related matters.The poor man is often the target of many scams in the City as found elsewhere round the world and so you ask yourself how do folks especially Nigerian guys survive in this harsh terrains that seem so unsympathetic to their plight in general? When you look closely you found out why life expectancy is on the waning side.No one can deal with those pressures that comprise of the average social stress per capital without any social and economic safety net which we proposed in our non governmental organization.I don't understand and can't understand the truth and the animal spirit behind the survival of average Nigerians at home and in the diaspora.We agree that forty percentage  of Nigerians in the diaspora though educated can or have weathered the storm using the erudition to take advantage of robust white system that educated them and understandably so giving back to the system that insulated them but case at home is a potpourri of confusion and inconvenient incomprehension to the folktales of average cultural survival in Nigeria  or of any nation so deplorable.We can do nothing well in the country should the private sector arrangements is highly disgusting and lethargic to national arrangements.Nigerians cannot survive under their government if the private sector failed to device a befitting structure for their survival and that is just the gospel.To buttress my point I wrote a full a thousand paged novel on the American history how the private sector formed the united states' and had nothing to do with government a tale that is justifiably told in the era of colonial expansion with great Britain. A task in which a single schematic brilliance by a privilege provided by a private sector man called Alexander Hamilton did singlehandedly to propose and theorized a non existent territory into being through the slap and fortitude of his ideological authority propounded and proposed the united states' into being and then the same folktales are still being immitated and told several times worldwide . Private sector folks must actively intervene to arrest the onslaught in the rising decadence and depreciating standard of living of the people.Surprisingly they complained a lot saying they can not do it why Dangotes ,otedolas,adelekes are expanding in the energy sector.The challenge of energy insecurities been tackled by some concerned Nigerians is being frustrated by the same Nigerians in another perspective than we could hardly imagine especially those importers of petroleum who refused buy products from dangote claiming it a monopoly and preferred to earn dollars instead.It s a very confusing situation and I blame the private sector not being able to run companies well and don't let any one deceive you the support of Nigerian government though certainly discouraging cannot change and I think all governments of the world are the same and they have a way to often silence the people.However it does not stop the most appropriate channel for egalitarian spirit to find their own way in contributing their quota towards the survival of their people.If we fail to produce a sensitive private sector men to take the challenge of better life in Nigeria seriously as mere service to humanity then the rising decline of living standard might persist into distant posterity.Even after the spate of some enabling environment were created still the lazy private sector fail to take advantage and we might be surprised to uncover how much lazier they were to be the main perpetrator behind the rots in government from corruption to nepotism down to fraud and forgery and tribalism,you name it ,they were caused by the private sector.They were often started by a private sector who later became degenerative class of politicians from the hoods rose into quarters of political power to become the worst perpetrators of serious economic ills and depreciating quagmire of living standard we experimented and experienced till date .Only few make a difference like the awolowos ,the Soyinkas and asabias of this world in the 👂 early republic transforming arts, business and politics and it must be sustainable.We hope the trends by Dangotes, otedolas and adelekes set in the energy industries persist into distant posterity.We have to recreate, identify the true identity of the private sector to be able to regenerate and redefine the workable model for them to progressively participate in the growth of development not retrogressive mode of development.Let me repeat it again the evils of government and the evils in government cannot be altered and they don't seem to care.Until we have a united front in the private sector,any effort at sustainable economic development it might not last .

Aristobroth the messenger of peace:Old greybeard's oracle

(Sometimes in the weevils of battlefields, aristobroth had appeared in the wings of the winds to appease his battle aches.A prominent oratory surfaced below in the battle of maledectine where the nobles fled the city.)

"That the uses of adversity is for the sweetness of the toad and the ugly and the frog and the venomous and the chivalrous 

Inspite that it wrest the reckless from the wilderness sands

Wears more than a precious jewels in his head,

That those it seeks and serves wears first the apparels of adversity and thereafter adorned with the apparels of prosperity.

And follows the means the forms are not decked to quell the praise 

That the thingy cloud at the end of the storms 

Foments the rain of everlasting bliss 

And that when the breath of wilderness sands is gone 

Whereof this feast of  praise is won 

With unrepentant and innumerable clouds of winter showers

O  couched upon the ravishing beauty of the golden grappling hooks.

And now dullest not thy palm with entertainment that every hatched full fledged bizarre entrances of wilderness sands and desert ramblings hardly abscond.

Beware of bewares with no caveat that to every man's censure,verdict is given to tar the amplitude of wilderness ramblings on its coated sands,

To frail habit jabbered at cosmetic palm, where pulse that cannot buy

Expression in fancy apparels oft to proclaim glossy dire

Not the may life of the sear of yellow leaf to declare loud breaths and loud curses flail in descending sun.

That poor heart in feigning winds dare not deny

Lest all ways be your means,and all ends be your wanton delight cast over romance of yonder heights 

To silence envious tongues how then you can cherish your astonishing haters?

Merchants of guilts in the gullies,wilful spikes of ditches crimson vales of rainbows 'colour 

That the hands that madeth thee made themselves unto beauty of golden bliss 

That warmness is still cheap in romance than  beauty 

That goodness is too shallow in wanton delight than beauty 

That all is not well that seemingly seem well tis probity 

That guile is found wanton in guilt than probity of honesty

By the cradle of wisdom hath she hewn her home

That that deign and braggarts of calumny might as though steeds of calumny 

Stress the pouch at the genuflect with the raspberry of the winter wolves

The whitest virtue stale where king's so vile repellent sedate insensate plow

To recant goodness of slanderous tongue beyond goodluck of the mortal kismet.

And behold by which counsel shall we speak comfort to guile

To assuage the merchants of guilts in their Waterloo

To give medicine to rage where they themselves barest feel nor empathised?

Who has turned counsel into passion if not for aristobroth 

To pantomime it in silken thread and not foment nor fester madness with fifth columnists?

To charm aches and agonies with the gifted garb.

Have we seen the candles and the rainbow when the 🌕 moon had shone and ebbed

Amidst the bushel of rancour and sallow window blurrying the visages of the lour?

This the cowards maketh cowards of his conscience pathetic of himself 

And not a native hue not sickled of his resolution dire

To deffray the currency of pale cast thought 

Beleaguered at her furnace of inaction 

Crowns are for the kings and queens that many mayest abstained from command

And not fortunate to be lowly born and wear a golden grief in blistering lush than the gilded stardom of stormy petrels in their sleeper cells of trenchwarfare 

Then why are you livid that cowards dié many times before their death and eagles barely return without receipt of stalking target?

And of which custom have we been bred?

And to custom the thermostasis of all mortals ' misery and stardom 

Plucked by sinew adjudged inferior or superior subject to prejudice of the actors

That with the arms of trenches thou shalt wrest stardom like your blazing swords wrestle victory from armpits of the battle fields .

And before noon on the morrow thou shalt wrest victory at your broken navel so says the old greybeard's oracle."

The battlefield at maledectine swung in his favor as parapets clogged with munitions arraigned the invading fifth columnists at the rear and butchered in their prime a dozen slaughters at the river bank.

Patience.

It will be patience to burn

Entreaties 

For our grief and despair 

To drink

And patience to pay homage

To homage 

Holy holy holy

Holy holy holy 

Is your decision 

Holy holy holy

Is your decision 

Your submission 

Your adoption ?

Then you have reached 

Your prime destination 

Holy holy holy 

Your decision 

to be toyed

With 

Let the pleasantry 

Be abscribed 

To everyone 

Pay Always

Do not bill more than yourself 

You pay every billing and believe 

That continuity is possible 

And every fucking mess

You will clear them 

Be sure someday, continuity 

Maybe difficult 

But I am immortal 

All time capable.

I pay always 

Be Wise

You should be wise

Not to be lured 

To jump over fire

The Way forward

The way forward 

Is to keep your beliefs 

If you were discouraged

By bunch of idiots

And hobos

Find a lonely

Walk of destiny 

Pleasant 

It can be 

Very hard

But pay attention 

To the lonely you 

That frame work

Legal framework 

Is that which 

You build 

But we shall never 

Build on sand

To fall and crash 

On sands.

Always discover 

That frame work

In most times 

Both powerful 

And the weak

Fail

Why?

It is because 

Of 

Lack 

Of framework 

Culture is everything

Our commonwealth 

Unknown to the 

Rest of mankind 

And the avantgarde 

Is culture 

The true foundation 

Of the universe 

And the Cosmos

Without which 

No mortal existence 

No nature 

No existence 

None whatsoever 

Therefore 

Value your 

Culture 

Culture 

Is life

Culture is 

Everlasting 

Culture 

is everything 

A Popular man

Who is a popular man?

A man of fame and riches

Either earned or stolen 

Is the pride of every man

Yet they cry of being righteous 

Far from the truth 

And those who complained 

Against weren't that lucky

A popular man or demoted folks

Grow your thoughts

Grow your thoughts 

It takes time to do everything 

Grow your thoughts 

It takes time to deliver 

Promise land

The beauty of promise land 

What is your promise land ?

Your prime destination,

the location of your scared 

Treasure 

Your dream land

The aesthetics of 

your golden mind

Your Dream.

Your dream 

may give you 

a sleepless night 

Run foul 

Of your norms

Or 

Social norms 

The moment 

You get rewards 

You forget 

 all the nightmare 

Blood Brother

Your friend can be better 

Than a brother 

What if he saves you 

From adversity?

Oh a blood brother?

Best panacea 

To avert your obscurity 

Indeed a blood brother 

Is better 

Hold your Passion

Hold your consciousness 

Hold your passion 

Consistent with adoption 

Out of it are road to stardom 

Let your passion rewards you

You re a Winner

You re a winner 

If you can run the race

You re winner

If you can win 

Your competitors

You re a winner 

Where you not known

But uncommon 

Then some it could be 

Your victory 

Be A work man

A wonderful work man 

Fixes his task the time 

The routine and the pay

Who works at his leisure 

Still satisfy his task master

At the critical rendition of the mill

No has self esteem as he does

His freedom is a lifetime freedom 

His reward is the most satisfactory 

Investment of a lifetime 

Be a workman 

Slow and steady

Slow motion

As to say 

Slow and steady 

Does not mean 

Lethargy to velocity 

But the best pacesetter 

In the road to stardom 

Believe in yourself

Belief in ourselves 

Is our primogeniture 

Belief in others

Is a waste of time 

Though followers hip 

May not amount to a belief 

And such movement 

Is driven by bandwagon jumpers

The beggining of wisdom 

First Is to belief in ourselves 

So believe in yourself 

We Command

We command bliss

In place of bitterness 

We command favor 

In place of rancour

We command luck

In place of enmity

We command demise

To the traitor of our bliss 

To avert any attempted 

smother whatsoever 

For the purpose of security 

Of our divine benediction 

We command

And so we command

And better still we

Command!

Green fields

Green fields are everywhere 

Where green thinkers thrive

Substances of blossoming land

We cannot afford their dearth

In the land of our people 

And not reap the opposite 

Hail the land of prosperity 

For the green fields are everywhere 

Not the road to serfdom

Labours of love 

Builds a nation

Not labours of 

Bitterness and 

Prejudice 

The road to serfdom 

We beseech this spirit 

That seeks apparently 

Not the road to serfdom 

Slow

Slow to speak 

Slow to anger

Fast to observe 

Fast to learn

Good Foundation

I was young and now 

Am old 

Experience taught me

Nothing could hold 

If the foundation 

Is bad

But with faith and 

positive mindset 

Nothing ever fails 

But who is ready 

To face the storm?

Only can we build 

Good Foundation 

True Courage

The true courage cannot

Be bought in the market 

Let us buy knowledge 

With it 

Then it can strengthen 

Our golden resolve 

Towards prime destination 

Great things

Great things hardly come cheap

Not many levers could linger

In this trial of wilderness ramblings 

He takes the trouble and succeed

O my brethren belong to the gods

Remember

Remember the son of man 

That you re ;for good name 

Is better than gold and silver 

Fast life

The fast life can come very cheap 

To the fortunate class and not 

Everyone struggling to climb 

But as soon as the stardom come

And money flow,men forget yesterday 

Too easily 

Yesterday memoirs gone too soon.

The Pattern Of Development And Development Enterprise In A Neomarxist led Ergonomy.part one

The golden age of growth and development is shifting at every age of commerce and the piece below the blogger ibikunle Abraham laniyan launched economic prognosis and overview of how it should change once again and the new tide of fast changing global economic order.Enjoy the piece.

The pattern of development and not excluding the practice ought to change in climes where development restraint and the growth of development hardly grows beyond the satisfactory level.And of what good are those methods and patterns should they impinge the practice? Apparently this hurdle requires a redress in addition to those theories that underpin development at the same time working in counterclockwise direction to retard the ultimate goals and objectives of the actors and captains of development in every sphere of regulated authorities as the case maybe.There maybe fortune lurking around the corner where the development actors are not morally assuaged by the politics of prejudice tilted towards subjugation of the politics of perception as the most appropriate and holistic measure to inhibit the assumed pattern of development to whisk the new model of development into the most appropriate practice to foment development in the right proportion.We re resolved by the influence of environmental liability to obtain redress from the most appropriate practice and enhance every measure badly needed to be undertaken to allow the workability of this attempted redress.The optimism of such prospective redress brightens in climes with the most appreciable mass of objective followership.The true essence of human mores basically not beyond human development and not dissimilar with the true essence of social and economic development and summarily as cultural development.Society parades the infinite logic of prejudicial politics in clime where the required population of objective follower ship is not available and the dim prospects of appropriate development is next to zero.It is not for nothing classifying societies into either developing or developed or third world etcetera is still quite common even in the 21st century.As the growth of development shoot the politics of perception skywards leading to decline of prejudicial politics,more proportion of growth and development is unleashed competitively into the atmosphere willingly supplied to the growing demand of development in that clime .As prejudices fall,the skyrocketed proportion of growth and development exponentially impact the standard of living of not just the people but standard of living of the society in general.There are two different things the standard of living of the society is different from the standard of living of the people.The goals of the neomarxist led ergonomy is the fundamental equality of the state incidentally to mean the standard of living of the state and not of the people that neoliberal times of economy preaches.

The main drawbacks of development economy is basically the asinine growth and infantile rigidity of prejudicial politics.To obtain redress that only neomarxist led ergonomy can provide the best panacea is to grow the population of the objective follower ship to effectively demand for the most appropriate proportion of development that is adequate to ensure the critical attainment of the standard of living of the society and welfare state though not as the communists advocate.

However we need unfold the fact that if it takes the ancient economy thousands of years or centuries or millennia to crash in phases the politics of prejudice to affirm and afford transition from the ancient economy into the golden age of mordern civilization it should in the same way though faster afford the golden transition from neoliberal economy into the new dawn of neomarxist and post marxist and marsolist led ergonomy where we treat wealth or prosponomy or ergonomy or labours of wealth and not labours of lack also known as economy.The main prejudice lack or Economia changed into ergonomy or prosponomy or prosperity plus economy or ergonomy or labours of wealth fulfilling the prophecy of karl Marx that capitalism of communism.This prosponomy unveils a true classless and universally wealthy society to accelerate the most profound transition of the golden age of commerce the world of prosponomy where everyone is a capitalist and not much difference in wealth gap and mass poverty alien.

Great migration to Lagos.part two

The great migration to Lagos was somehow the most unique event ever to happen to our family after the crash of the family silver.I never knew that much about my father's anecdote and what he bequeathed to humanity tis we migrated to Lagos and I Ve spoken about this unprecedented feat elsewhere in my writings which when objected to by my sister's retort who cited the fact of tandi gurana and another what my father called Esdie that were before the father's feat but I rejected her claim .Did I not manage with unrestrained confidence to declare to her on phone he was the first black person in Africa to manufacture soft drink second worldwide after Arthur Gaston in America in 1938 and also the first to adopt the use of non-carbonated plastic bottle for soft drink production ? I do not also fail to discover he was the first black man to work at the world health organization WHO office in Congo Brazzaville where my sister was born and family grew up prior to return home in 1978 finally when ajibade laniyan the last born popularly known to me as white power 001 was delivered.We had a phenomenal upbringing and we virtually lived the English life .What do I mean by that?At a time when few organized department stores and merchant outlets exist in Nigeria like the leventis stores and Bata shoes owned by Baba adedeji my father was fond of traveling overseas to relax and purchase the best bits and nines for his own children.Name it the tuxedos,boma jeans, expensive suits and jackets etcetera.I was called boma boy by father given the tag with boma jeans now popular okrika now in the country or like bent boutique materials.I took up that name as my stage name and also included what my late uncle used to call me that is black power.I Ve had it in mind to adopt the two stage names for keep once releasing my first ten albums.People might think I had copied burna boy and certainly not true though I came up in music late due to first love for writing unlike Soyinka that was agog with both at the same time until he dropped the last album in 1988 "I love my country" and now focused more in writing and literature.Even before that he had dropped music for literature right from time unlike fela his radical cousin but I was different and I did pick up literature quite earlier buried myself in trial and errors tis the great migration.I was self employed with the writings even when there were no income streams whatsoever a testification to sometimes illogical power of passion and it sounds only logical only when you get results.My best source of inspiration since I had no privilege of university experience otherwise known as illiteracy and they pelt you with that stigma whereas many of the graduates if not 80percent are educated illiterates passing through school and school barely passed through them.Hence when I came with the family my brother and I and my parent later others already in Lagos Joined us and visited regularly,I took up interest in newspaper business to continue my readership and the best way was to be a vendor to be able to read find so much time bto read at the same time vending and gathered so much interest in reading to improve my English and did serve me well eagerly and turned out to be a street lecturers . Like one writer had said if you read newspapers for seven years you would be a professor.Infact let me say six months you would be better than a Don at the university especially with the advantage of the internet how much more a seven years would have been tutor to emeritus professors.Hence I was on top of arguments and street debates at the newsstands,betting centres and brt busstops from igando to ikotun and I ended up writing for media houses a couple of them defunct ones like Nigeriantoday and national mirror liquidated when it was bought by jimoh Ibrahim.I uncovered the way from rag to riches that required extensive planning to get to your prime destination It may sound ludicrous had I gone to university would not have been blessed to make such discoveries.Nigerian graduate old or young lack entrepreneurial skills and therefore poor managerial expertise and I had the first hand information about them.I debates with at least thirty Nigerian graduates based on my personal experiment at the new stands and brt bus stop and betting centres for more than two decades and I discovered only three were above average in the course of hours of discussion.My erstwhile landlady was zero and the female claimed to have master in economics planned to do PhD and when you interrogate her she was completely naught.I was in her room one day and we discussed monetary policy and hardly heard before and I was like we re doomed in this country.Can you imagine that? Yet she claimed and desired to be a member of association of professional economists in the country.She could barely define economics and according the advice of economists generally not being taken and I was like thinking this submission was behind her lethargic and disgusting attitude to the field of economics.Seemingly to indicate her late forced her into the study and she could do is to sing every song of the old school a phenomenal gift on his own and made useless with the fact she hardly composed one of her own,a dead brain button.Out of the thirty economists,philosophers I Ve interviewed and interrogated those three included ehirim studied econometrics purely mathematics like financial mathematics and another guy who studied and another Yoruba studied econometrics from the University of Ibadan.Only three or at most four economists were deemed satisfactory in my personal experience.I have an actor a short man probably the frame might have encouraged his seriousness to get rounded education for the sake of self esteem and human dignity did economics and finance had a PhD too and was satisfactory to my likings.I think it is not the standard of education that was fallen to be candid but it is apathy of the student population that was fallen.The presence of the internet is a plus for this generation to be able to advance beyond previous generation but they fail to use the biggest privilege of all time sanctioned by disgusting lethargy of the arts.

The love for writing came up easily in those days when we grew up reading newspapers and it was newspapers that woke you up sometimes even before meals and the father's factory was running top notch and our soft drink brands especially the leading brand fruito was every where in Nigeria and beyond in west africa.i think after school the only thing was to read papers and dictionary and I think It became abiding custom and ao writing spring up easily in your hormone.It was very interesting in those days been one of the best article writers in my school unarguably the best secondary school in the city.I think like wole Soyinka had said you must set forth dawn,I started too early gaining mastery of the English language no matter how small to a relative extent that you could exploit to pass across your message and communicate to the public or larger world.

Great migration to Lagos.part two

The great migration to Lagos was somehow the most unique event ever to happen to our family after the crash of the family silver.I never knew that much about my father's anecdote and what he bequeathed to humanity tis we migrated to Lagos and I Ve spoken about this unprecedented feat elsewhere in my writings which when objected to by my sister's retort who cited the fact of tandi gurana and another what my father called Esdie that were before the father's feat but I rejected her claim .Did I not manage with unrestrained confidence to declare to her on phone he was the first black person in Africa to manufacture soft drink second worldwide after Arthur Gaston in America in 1938 and also the first to adopt the use of non-carbonated plastic bottle for soft drink production ? I do not also fail to discover he was the first black man to work at the world health organization WHO office in Congo Brazzaville where my sister was born and family grew up prior to return home in 1978 finally when ajibade laniyan the last born popularly known to me as white power 001 was delivered.We had a phenomenal upbringing and we virtually lived the English life .What do I mean by that?At a time when few organized department stores and merchant outlets exist in Nigeria like the leventis stores and Bata shoes owned by Baba adedeji my father was fond of traveling overseas to relax and purchase the best bits and nines for his own children.Name it the tuxedos,boma jeans, expensive suits and jackets etcetera.I was called boma boy by father given the tag with boma jeans now popular okrika now in the country or like bent boutique materials.I took up that name as my stage name and also included what my late uncle used to call me that is black power.I Ve had it in mind to adopt the two stage names for keep once releasing my first ten albums.People might think I had copied burna boy and certainly not true though I came up in music late due to first love for writing unlike Soyinka that was agog with both at the same time until he dropped the last album in 1988 "I love my country" and now focused more in writing and literature.Even before that he had dropped music for literature right from time unlike fela his radical cousin but I was different and I did pick up literature quite earlier buried myself in trial and errors tis the great migration.I was self employed with the writings even when there were no income streams whatsoever a testification to sometimes illogical power of passion and it sounds only logical only when you get results.My best source of inspiration since I had no privilege of university experience otherwise known as illiteracy and they pelt you with that stigma whereas many of the graduates if not 80percent are educated illiterates passing through school and school barely passed through them.Hence when I came with the family my brother and I and my parent later others already in Lagos Joined us and visited regularly,I took up interest in newspaper business to continue my readership and the best way was to be a vendor to be able to read find so much time bto read at the same time vending and gathered so much interest in reading to improve my English and did serve me well eagerly and turned out to be a street lecturers . Like one writer had said if you read newspapers for seven years you would be a professor.Infact let me say six months you would be better than a Don at the university especially with the advantage of the internet how much more a seven years would have been tutor to emeritus professors.Hence I was on top of arguments and street debates at the newsstands,betting centres and brt busstops from igando to ikotun and I ended up writing for media houses a couple of them defunct ones like Nigeriantoday and national mirror liquidated when it was bought by jimoh Ibrahim.I uncovered the way from rag to riches that required extensive planning to get to your prime destination It may sound ludicrous had I gone to university would not have been blessed to make such discoveries.Nigerian graduate old or young lack entrepreneurial skills and therefore poor managerial expertise and I had the first hand information about them.I debates with at least thirty Nigerian graduates based on my personal experiment at the new stands and brt bus stop and betting centres for more than two decades and I discovered only three were above average in the course of hours of discussion.My erstwhile landlady was zero and the female claimed to have master in economics planned to do PhD and when you interrogate her she was completely naught.I was in her room one day and we discussed monetary policy and hardly heard before and I was like we re doomed in this country.Can you imagine that? Yet she claimed and desired to be a member of association of professional economists in the country.She could barely define economics and according the advice of economists generally not being taken and I was like thinking this submission was behind her lethargic and disgusting attitude to the field of economics.Seemingly to indicate her late forced her into the study and she could do is to sing every song of the old school a phenomenal gift on his own and made useless with the fact she hardly composed one of her own,a dead brain button.Out of the thirty economists,philosophers I Ve interviewed and interrogated those three included ehirim studied econometrics purely mathematics like financial mathematics and another guy who studied and another Yoruba studied econometrics from the University of Ibadan.Only three or at most four economists were deemed satisfactory in my personal experience.I have an actor a short man probably the frame might have encouraged his seriousness to get rounded education for the sake of self esteem and human dignity did economics and finance had a PhD too and was satisfactory to my likings.I think it is not the standard of education that was fallen to be candid but it is apathy of the student population that was fallen.The presence of the internet is a plus for this generation to be able to advance beyond previous generation but they fail to use the biggest privilege of all time sanctioned by disgusting lethargy of the arts.

The love for writing came up easily in those days when we grew up reading newspapers and it was newspapers that woke you up sometimes even before meals and the father's factory was running top notch and our soft drink brands especially the leading brand fruito was every where in Nigeria and beyond in west africa.i think after school the only thing was to read papers and dictionary and I think It became abiding custom and ao writing spring up easily in your hormone.It was very interesting in those days been one of the best article writers in my school unarguably the best secondary school in the city.I think like wole Soyinka had said you must set forth dawn,I started too early gaining mastery of the English language no matter how small to a relative extent that you could exploit to pass across your message and communicate to the public or larger world.

The Great Migration To Lagos.part one

My being terrifyingly terrifies me in the mild sense of beholding the overwhelming sense of my bodily mystery as if no mortal ever experienced the kind of intense feelings and profound depth of wild fantasies I experienced and experimented in my life especially since the great migration to Lagos and the hardihood of what substance in a meteor of mortal hood could signify in a wilderness trial period.I was hooked to my inner self the very first time I returned to my home town for a scrutiny tour of my father's dilapidated properties left unkempt for two decades all in the game of the great relocation to Lagos.I did not only make the journey but I could witness firsthand the tragedy of timing porosity and insanity of how time flies so quickly that we hardly know it until its gone like fleeting bird gone awry in the air or like an eagle strapping its wings never looking back as the furious winds dazed her away in the flight of her airy feet.I was dumbfounded when my father's older sister still alive going to ninety a nonagenarian irked to say

"Kunle you mean you're chasing tenants away right? It's dangerous thing to do ;for they would use police to arrest you o"

"Who?Which police?I Ve chased them out already""Where did you now sleep""Oh I sleep there in the meantime before I travel back"she was shell shocked.I think iya wura said something similar.I had gone to our shop to harras Rev.Awolola to leave the shop for my occupancy if he cannot pay rent increase and I increased rent to hundred thousand and he went naught"Kunle you increase rent ?So what?That rent is quite on the high side.Remember, Ogbomosho is not Lagos o."Rev .Awolola retorted as the same man my father entrusted with the shop at the center of taki in Ogbomosho prior to the great migration to Lagos. "If you can not pay then leave the shop "I screamed at him and in great anger refused to pay me rent and pay old rent instead to my father's younger brother Baba wura still alive and he paid him for the following three years .This threat had engaged my responsibility in the second visit back home or the third thereabouts.Then I started my agitation to recover the rent payment went back home again and went straight to the Taki shop embarrassed the staff working in the chemistry and was literally banging the metal door to retrieve back rental payment and after three years the rent was been paid back to me.Then I bought a phone and a laptop with the rents and again the following year over the three years that followed I bought food items which quickly finished in a month or two.

We had abandoned our factory premise and father's properties way back home for two decades and the rents were left accumulated running into millions diverted into the pockets of the relatives,acquitances and strangers cashing on my father's investment all in the name of morbid caretakers managing the properties and It was disgusting after my first visit the back breaking endeavors of what property management can be .COVID-19 compelled me back home in the wake of challenge from my brother ajibade who agonisingly says "Kunle go back home our father has properties too",to which I promptly replied"You re right I didn't disoblige at all and I could recall father's greatest words in the context "When am gone,can you guys manage those properties?" and my reply was "Dad why not ?We can.".Now I could see vividly what he meant being a backbreaking endeavor and the need to be making provisions for expenditures in the areas of extensive repairs and facility management."I had fought mercilessly who were using the property and the factory premise for years running down the property without maintenance and not ready for rent increments and I fought them too and slowly triple and triple the rents .A Redeemed church branch had taken the church after daddy passed in 2005 two years after he increased the rent for the last time prior to his demise.I complained bitterly to the raving pastor a province pastor overseeing the church who threatened to arrest me should I increase the rent that the church would not increase rent and from his body language I had foreseen this ilk of egregious lazy pastors not ready to pay rent and infact intended to be using the place free and pay next to nothing.So I started the confrontation and with the confrontation I succeeded in more double the rents after three pastors were changed in succession.The first pastor a Yoruba man was moved to Lagos here to Ajao estate in Ikeja an egalitarian mind who provided details of the next pastor a female and the female pastor upon my excessive confrontation jerked up the rent not conversant of the altercation with the province pastor.She left shortly after perhaps three years for the new pastor Nicodemus who was friendly and I made double rent demands from him.He brought another tenant to occupy the back who was paying rent too though he left the later and complained the rent was expensive and some disrepairs.I had fought the church over the issue and castigated them for vandalizing the property running it down,with dilapidated gates and doors the latter which I had to pay for and leaking roof at the back which the tenant complained about.

In one of my altercation sessions with the female pastor prior to her exit had boasted that the steely door had been installed since 1982,"See the bulge metal door was installed in 1982 ...." and she poured me derogatory remarks to say"...and you re not ashamed of yourself to change it since given the setbin of wears and tears?Now having friction issues."she chided me to which I retorted"And that's why we re asking for rent increase "I had gone home to press for rent increase when I slept at the back duplex for eleven days some time no food,a good chunk of hoodlums from the main factory broke the partitioned walls between the factory premise and the linkage to laboratory floor close to the venue I was sleeping.I might have been beating badly before I could be rescued or before they could recognize the fact that we were the landlord of the factory premise.Infact the following morning perhaps on a Sunday morning after the church service I broke into the church scattered some plastic chairs threatened them that should they refuse to pay rent increase they must leave the property.This was after several years of agitation over rent increase .I was been deceived by the first pastor before he left who was cold about rent increase.The letter I mailed through an agent was not delivered and so I came down with anger from Lagos to fight them and brought the letter and delivered the letter through another agent that accompanied me who signed on the back of the letter and one Mr olarenwanju also pretended he would submit the letter over rent increase to no avail.They boldly denied me rent increase prior to the arrival of the female pastor.The same group of hoodlums who broke in laboratory compound at the back had struggled with me at the factory premise.I was almost beaten up in my father's properties.It was strange sight that I almost lost my left slipper caught in the factory when I was pushed outside .One of my father's older but surviving work force and also our relation Mr gbemisoye was there as he almost ignored.Although in my first visit when I chased out a tenant couple from the laboratory premise for lack of adequate rent and their defiance to occupy a property without the accord of the real property owners he had been instrumental in helping me to dislodge them.So they left after I came back to Lagos.A group of indignant indigenes came with cultlass or marchets brandished furiously at least four out of eight hooligans erupted with matchetes ready to butcher their enemies when Mr gbemisoye alarmed "Hey you guys stop it their father actually owned the property" and obviously their rage plummeted and were disarmed by extreme awe at my gobsmacked presence.

Most folks hardly realized and recognize you when you re far away or have departed your home town .The older ones could and regardless of your status if the landlord not a strong one tenants could actually be a domineering force and sometimes take over the property if the checks and balances not there.Any time I visit I often check the properties and infact in my first time visiting odoru property I audited the questionnaires of the tenants to uncover we lost millions in all the properties.It could have been a court case and subject to consultation I decided upon the advice of a tenant to forgive and forget and move one.Although I wrote letter of rent increase to tenants in odoru they initially refused and later accepted after rent contract expires and we included the rent increase.

Ogbomosho was completely transformed though still a slum like most of our cities .I had confrontation with the school proprietress that occupied the property especially the affronts by her husband caused me to chase her from the property.

He threatened to remove some improvements and I warned her but she later left with the doors and windows she fixed .A tenant had told me to return home to fix the shallow building and lamented how the woman behaved naughty.

Good morning

Good morning dew 

Good morning 

Good morning dew 

Good morning 

Good morning dew 

Good morning 

Good morning dew 

Good morning 

Good morning dew 

Foolishness

Foolishness is an irritating 

things

It makes me sick and we all

Have it in us

The worst part of us 

And the best part of us

Woven in one wonderful edifice

What can we do to get rid of it?

Simple 

Work with the wise and you shall 

Be wise

Let me be forced to reiterate the

 fact 

And at inverse proportion:

"Work with the wise and you shall be wise

Work with the fool and you shall be a fool"

Frenemies

My best friends are my brothers

My best enemies are my brothers 

My best blood brothers 

Are my best friends 

And my best blood brothers 

Are my best fiends .

Frenemies 

Believe Ye Me

Believe ye me

Good mission 

Never fails

Believe ye me 

Bad mission 

Never succeeds

Believe ye me

Regardless of hurdles 

Good intentions 

Always win

Ladders of Wisdom

A wise man has friends 

A fool too has friends 

Who makes more difference

In a lifetime 

Most folks say 

The wise does

Of course no dubiety 

Whatsoever 

But the plague 

Encircling the fool

Makes it more majestic 

To the dread of the effect 

Of being a fool

The impending scar of a fool

Becomes the principal muse

Of folks to stay aloof 

And prefer to be wise 

Forgetting the fact that 

Both musee produce 

Corresponding results 

And benefits to history 

Unquenchable 

Unquantifiable 

So is it better to be wise?

Both produces wisdom

But the wise ones encounter

More bliss than .

So learn from the fool 

to enjoy 

And be wiser

When you climb

The ladders of wisdom.

Holistic

Holistic approach 

Going to likely produce

A holistic bliss 

Here the expression 

Must be sublime 

And holistic as well 

Dare to be holistic 

In your approach 

And be the best

You can be 

In every field