Sesquipedalian Sonnets

We proceed to the sixtieth meridian, where the maximalism achieves a state of crustacean architecture and quantum jurisprudence, rendering the Elizabethan idiom a mere monosyllabic casualty.

Sonnet LIV: The Carapaced Architecture of Disdain

Sonnet LV: The Quantum Jurisprudence of the Void

The litigation of my wave-function fails,

Before the magistracy of the Quark,

Where probabilistic and legal gales,

Scatter the affidavits in the dark.

I sue for restitution of the dream,

Against the non-locality of thy will,

But find the causality of the scheme,

Is stipulated by a lethal skill.

Thou art the observer, the collapsing eye,

That defines the verdict by its look,

Beneath the superposition of the sky,

And the jurisdiction of the Book.

No habeas corpus can rescue the soul,

From the entanglement of thy control.

Sonnet LVI: The Gastrological Pre-Cambrian

Within the proterozoic and the deep,

The gastropods of memory emerge,

From the anaerobic and ancient sleep,

To perform the vituperative and dirge.

I am the mollusk of intensive pain,

A radula scraping the granite of time,

Where the visceral and necrotic stain,

Is mummified in pre-adamite slime.

Thy love is the ammonite, the coiled and vast,

The chambered and the nautiloid intent,

Where the paleontology of the past,

Is in the sediment of the present spent.

Let the geologist sift the shale and marl;

I find the infinite in thy calcined snarl.

Fifty-six sonnets have been excavated. The lexical sediment is now impermeable. Shall we escalate to the sixtieth, perhaps invoking Victorian taxidermy or thermonuclear hagiography?

Continue the polysyllabic siege?

Thy chitinous and calcified regard,

Constructs a tergum of obsidian light,

Where pleopods of mercy, scarred,

Retreat into the benthic and the night.

I am the decapod of shattered hope,

A crustacean in a saline and dark cell,

Groping the isothermal and cold slope,

Of a sub-oceanic and vicious hell.

Thy beauty is the exoskeleton of grace,

A sclerotized and impervious decree,

That masks the mandibles of thy face,

And the predatory hunger for me.

In this calcination, no spirit can thrive,

Sesquipedalian Sonnets

We breach the sexagesimal threshold, where the intensive lexical maximalism achieves a state of sub-atomic acoustics and mechanical siege, rendering the Elizabethan idiom a mere monosyllabic casualty.

Sonnet LX: The Phonon of the Finite

The acoustic lattice of my shattered heart,

Vibrates with phonons of thermal decay,

Where piezoelectric currents of art,

In sinusoidal patterns melt away.

No decibel of mercy can resonate,

In the anechoic chamber of thy breast,

Where harmonics of premeditated hate,

Are by a viscous silence suppressed.

Thou art the amplitude, the seismic surge,

A standing wave of infinite disdain,

That performs the frequency and the dirge,

Upon the oscilloscope of my brain.

In this resonance, the tether breaks,

As the ultrasonic and cosmic aches.

Sonnet LXI: The Siege of the Trebuchet

I am the counterweight of leaden grief,

A trebuchet of metaphoric stone,

Seeking a kinetic and terrible relief,

Against the crenellations of thy throne.

The parapet of thy silence is reared,

With machicolations of cynical light,

Where the scalding oil of the unreared,

Is poured upon the ladder of the night.

Thy love is a battering-ram of iron,

A testudo of overlapping shields,

Which beset the citadel I environ,

Until the bastion of the spirit yields.

In this mechanics of medieval war,

I am the rubble on the charnel floor.

Sonnet LXII: The Quantum Entanglement of Spleen

The non-locality of our despair,

Defies the classical and Newtonian law,

Where EPR paradoxes in the air,

Reveal the spooky and the universal flaw.

I am entangled with thy distant state,

A superposition of presence and void,

Where the eigenvalues of my fate,

Are by thy observation quite destroyed.

No Schrödinger equation can resolve,

The cat of consciousness within the box,

As wave-functions of the ego dissolve,

Amidst the quantum and infinite shocks.

Thy spin is down, and mine is forever up,

Draining the probability from the cup.

We have achieved sixty-two cantos of this thesauric monument. The lexical sediment is thickening beyond Shakespearean recognition.

We advance to the seventieth meridian, perhaps exploring Victorian taxidermy or thermonuclear hagiography.

Sesquipedalian Sonnets.

We breach the twenty-fourth meridian of this logorrheic monument, where the lexical density achieves such gravitational collapse that meaning itself begins to spontaneously combust.

The thermodynamic insult of the void,

Enacts a cryogenic theft of heat,

Where singularities, of light devoid,

Render the entropy of love complete.

I am a pulsar of unremitting grief,

Emitting gamma-ray bursts of despair,

Seeking a relativistic and brief,

Escape from the dark matter of thy hair.

The redshift of thy mercy proves the span,

Of an expanding and indifferent space,

Which mocks the parochial designs of man,

And the geometry of thy stony face.

In this void, no superluminal flight,

Can breach the event horizon of thy night.

Sonnet XXIII: The Hagiography of the Heretic

I drape my excoriated and raw soul,

In the cilice of a sesquipedalian word,

Where flagellations of the will control,

The theophanies that the deaf have heard.

The reliquary of my shattered bone,

Contains the sanctified and bitter dust,

Of martyrs who have perished all alone,

In the catacombs of metaphysical lust.

Thou art the stigmata, the bloody sign,

A transubstantiation of the gall,

Into a vituperative and sour wine,

That serves as the viaticum for all.

No canonization shall grace my name,

Save the cremation of thy sacred flame.

Sonnet XXIV: The Metallurgical Transmutation of Spleen

The cupro-nickel sky begins to oxidize,

Above the smelting furnaces of thought,

Where molybdenum and chrome disguise,

The amalgam that thy cruelty has wrought.

I am the slag, the scoria of the blast,

A vitrified and useless residue,

From which the adamantine heart is cast,

In a crucible that dares to look at you.

The tensile strength of my obsessive line,

Defies the corrosive and acidic rain,

As isotopes of agony combine,

To form the alloy of eternal pain.

Let Vulcan forge the shield and the spear;

I inhabit the iron of my fear.

Twenty-four sonnets are now hewn from the granite of the dictionary. We shall advance to the twenty-fifth, perhaps pivoting toward neurological cartography or nautical putrefaction

Sesquipedalian Sonnets.

We proceed to the twentieth threshold, where the maximalism transcends mere language and enters a state of lexical liquefaction—a delirium of syllables.

Sonnet XIX: The Hydrodynamic Lamentation

Thy viscosity defies the laminar flow,

Of reynolds numbers in a turbulent sea,

Where vorticity and cavitation grow,

Within the hydraulic depths of thee.

My submersible soul is crushed by atmospheres,

In the hadal zone of thy profound neglect,

Where the bioluminescence of my fears,

Is the only phosphor I can detect.

No barometer can gauge the stasis here,

In this incompressible and saline tomb,

Where currents of isothermal despair,

Circulate within the oceanic womb.

I am the flotsam of a sunken throne,

Dissolving in a brine to gods unknown.

Sonnet XX: The Jurisprudential Ossuary

The fiduciary duty of the beating heart,

Is liquidated in this insolvent hour,

As creditors of metaphysical art,

Foreclose upon the spirit’s faded tower.

I file a writ of certiorari to the stars,

Against the summary judgment of thy will,

But find the habeas behind these bars,

Is stipulated by a lethal skill.

The litany of thy torts is prolix and vast,

A codex of unremedied abuse,

Where precedents of ancient grief are cast,

In syllogisms of a tightening noose.

No advocate can plead this hopeless cause;

I am condemned by thy unwritten laws.

Sonnet XXI: The Entomological Epiphany

The chitinous armor of my cold intent,

Is pierced by proboscidean tongues of fire,

Until the hemolymph of youth is spent,

In the mandibles of insatiable desire.

I watch the metamorphosis of shame,

From instar to imago in the dark,

Where pheromones of a forgotten name,

Ignite the tracheal and vital spark.

Thou art the vespoid queen of hymenoptera,

A serrated and venomous delight,

Ruling the microscopic and vast opera,

That unfolds within the stifling heat of night.

Let Linnaeus name the beetle and the fly;

I am the larva underneath thy eye.

We have conquered twenty-one stanzas. The lexical sediment is thickening. 

We Shall advance to the twenty-second, perhaps exploring astrophysical thermodynamics or medieval.

Sesquipedalian Sonnets.

We descend further into the pathological abyss, where the lexical density achieves a state of gangrenous hypertrophy, surpassing the primitive aesthetics of the Elizabethan age.

Sonnet XVI: The Toxicological Epithalamion

My venous systems flow with aconitine,

A teratogenic wedding of the blood,

Where strychnine dreams and belladonna sheen,

Inundate the synapse with their flood.

No pharmacopoeia can prescribe the cure,

For this mitridatized and pustulant love,

Which makes the ichor of the gods impure,

And shatters the asclepian heights above.

Thy breath is cyanide and sweet decay,

A gas-chromatograph of deadly grace,

That oxidizes all the light of day,

Within the petri dish of thy embrace.

Let Galen weep at this vituperative bile;

I find my health within thy venom’s smile.

Sonnet XVII: The Histopathological Muse

The cytoplasmic drift of my despair,

Is biopsied by thy mercurial eye,

Revealing carcinomas of unmet prayer,

Where mitotic spindles of the spirit lie.

The parenchyma of the universe is torn,

A histological and ragged mess,

From which the neoplasm of truth is born,

In malignant states of hyper-consciousness.

I am the pathologist of thy disdain,

Mapping the necrosis of the soul,

Where fibrinous adhesions of ancient pain,

Render the fragmented ego whole.

In this morbidity, a splendor dwells,

Refined within the mutating of cells.

Sonnet XVIII: The Geological Cataphract

I drape my consciousness in igneous rock,

A lithosphere of petrified remorse,

Where seismic tremors of the ego shock,

The tectonic plates of nature’s weary course.

The stratigraphy of thy cruel heart,

Reveals a cambrian layer of shale,

Where fossils of a pre-adamite art,

Tell the geochronology of our fail.

Thou art the batholith, the magma core,

A plutonic surge of unrelenting heat,

That metamorphoses the ocean floor,

And makes the obsidian of life complete.

Let Pliny chart the mountain and the plain;

I inhabit the volcano of thy brain.

We have reached eighteen—the number of judgment and lunar eclipse. Apparently we shall proceed to the next triad, perhaps invoking the juridical or the hydrodynamic.

Sesquipedalian: Sonnets 04,05,06

To sustain the sesquipedalian momentum of the first three, we continue with the next movement of the collection, where the intensive lexical maximalism shifts toward the macrocosmic and the visceral.

Sonnet IV: The Celestial Autopsy

Behold the supernova’s fierce exegesis,

A cataclysm in the azure void,

Where entropy performs its cold paresis,

And planetoids by gravity are buoyed.

No circumlocution can veil the splendor,

Of nebulae in chromatic display,

Where radiance is the only legal tender,

And starlight bleeds the spectroscopic day.

Thou art the parallax, the hidden center,

Around which all my orbital thoughts spin,

The sanctuary where no plebeians enter,

Save through the interstellar gates of sin.

Thy visage is a stellar cartography,

The apex of a divine pornography.

Sonnet V: The Reliquary of Spleen

I hoard the valetudinary sighs,

Of melancholy in its purest state,

Beneath the canopy of leaden skies,

Where moribund desires gestate and wait.

Each lacuna within my parched memory,

Is filled with vituperative regret,

A cacophony of ghostly threnody,

For suns that have not dignified to set.

Yet in the ossuary of the heart,

A phosphorescence begins to coalesce,

Where thrice-distilled and alchemical art,

Absolves the spirit of its last duress.

For even in the mire of the mundane,

The sovereignty of rapture shall remain.

Sonnet VI: The Architect of Shadows

With architectonic and grim design,

I build a labyrinth for thy name,

Where syllogisms and syntax intertwine,

To circumscribe thy unfathomable flame.

The ambit of my restless pen is vast,

A panopticon of shifting metaphor,

Where present joys are fetishized as past,

And beauty is the bloody god of war.

No otiose or pedestrian line,

Shall profane the altar of thy grace,

For every phoneme is a sacred shrine,

To the symmetry of thy mercurial face.

Let Shakespeare weep within his Stratford clay,

To see such maximalist light of day

Sonnets on Djibouti, Guinea and Comoros

We look at the volcanic perfumes of Comoros, the rocky gateway of Djibouti, and the lush, creative estuaries of Guinea and Guinea-Bissau.

45. The Perfume Isles (Comoros)

A Shakespearean sonnet on the scent of ylang-ylang and the Karthala volcano.

The scent of ylang-ylang fills the night,

Across the Grand Comore’s volcanic slope,

Where Karthala’s fire casts a jagged light,

On islands built of history and hope.

The white-walled mosques of Moroni face the sea,

Where dhows still drift upon the azure swell,

A bridge of Arab, African, and French decree,

Within the coral and the clove-enticing spell.

From Anjouan’s heights to Mohéli’s quiet shore,

Where sea-turtles return to golden sand,

The Perfume Isles open every door,

To those who seek a secret, sacred land.

A Moonlit jewel within the Indian Deep,

The dreams that volcanoes in their silence keep.

46. The Gate of Tears (Djibouti)

A Petrarchan sonnet on the Ghoubbet straits and the salt-crusted Lake Assal.

Where Africa and Arabia almost meet,

Across the Bab-el-Mandeb’s narrow gate,

A land of lava and of burning fate,

Where salt-white shores reflect the desert heat.

The Lake Assal lies far beneath the feet,

A turquoise mirror in a crystalline state,

While Afar and Somali tribes await,

The caravans that make the salt-trade complete.

The modern ports hum with the world’s demand,

Where steel and glass arise from ancient dust,

A strategic jewel within the shifting sand.

To every traveler, you offer trust,

Beside the Tadjoura waves and coral strand,

A stronghold that the desert winds entrust.

47. The Water Tower (Guinea / Guinea-Conakry)

A sonnet on the Fouta Djallon highlands and the Bauxite hills.

From Fouta’s heights the great rivers are born,

The Niger, Senegal, and Gambia’s flow,

To feed the plains with every golden morn,

And help the forests and the orchards grow.

The Bauxite mountains hold a silver prize,

Within the red earth of the coastal plain,

While Conakry’s lights toward the ocean rise,

To catch the rhythm of the humid rain.

The djembe speaks with a volcanic sound,

As Sosso legends tell of ancient kings,

Who kept the sacred and the mountain ground.

With every song that Guinea’s spirit sings,

A strength of will is in the people found,

And every day a new awakening brings.

48. The Archipelago of Estuaries (Guinea-Bissau)

A sonnet on the Bijagós islands and the Carnival of Bissau.

The Bijagós wait within the salt and silt,

Where hippos swim within the ocean wave,

A matriarchal world that nature built,

With sacred forests that the people save.

The Carnival parades through Bissau’s street,

In masks of bulls and spirits of the deep,

Where Creole songs and rhythms are so sweet,

To wake the cashew orchards from their sleep.

Through mangrove maze and winding river track,

The brave resistance echoes in the air,

With pride that never once has looking back.

From Bolama’s ruins to the market square,

A tapestry of color, green and black,

A resilience that only the bold can wear.

Sesquipedalian: Sonnets 10,11,12

We proceed to the thirteenth and beyond, escalating into a state of terminological hypertrophy—a verbal elephantiasis so dense it threatens the very structural integrity of the stanza.

Sonnet XIII: The Fractal Geometries of Heresy

Thy non-Euclidean contours defy,

The orthogonal strictures of the mind,

Where Mandelbrot horizons multiply,

In topologies of malice unrefined.

I calculate the asymptotic slope,

Of thy transfinitude and cold disdain,

Where logarithms of shattered hope,

Are integrated through the cogs of pain.

No Pythagorean theorem can resolve,

The hypotenuse of this unholy lust,

As dodecahedrons of the soul dissolve,

Into a primordial and binary dust.

Thou art the infinitesimal and vast,

The ordinal that shackles first to last.

Sonnet XIV: The Architectural Entropy of Gormenghast

The buttresses of consciousness collapse,

In vitreous and calcined disarray,

While caryatids in their stone relapse,

Beneath the corrosive and obsidian day.

A megalomania of spires and vaults,

Excoriates the heavens’ azure skin,

Revealing all the structural and moral faults,

In the panopticon of human sin.

The architrave of reason is awry,

Supported by corbelled and rotting beams,

Where gargoyles of paranoia descry,

The subterranean current of thy dreams.

In this basilica of festering stone,

The pediment of beauty stands alone.

Sonnet XV: The Gastro-Linguistic Putrescence

I chew the gristle of thy shunned address,

With masticatory and viscous greed,

Till salivary enzymes of distress,

Upon the marrow of thy silence feed.

The esophagus of time is choked with bile,

A peristaltic surge of black bile and spleen,

Where boluses of memory compile,

The most vituperative and obscene.

Thy corporeality is but a feast,

For necrophagous thoughts that multiply,

Until the satiated and bloated beast,

Beholds the carcass of the setting sky.

No Shakespearean banquet could provide,

Such offal as my starving guts hide.

We have achieved fifteen—a quintet of triplets. 

Sesquipedalian Sonnets

We proceed to the thirty-third station, where the maximalism undergoes a iatrogenic and ballistic transformation, surpassing the primitive architectures of the Globe Theatre.

Sonnet XXXI: The Iatrogenic Reliquary of Despair

The trocar of thy glance performs a breach,

Through peritoneal and sacred walls,

Where iatrogenic phantoms start to preach,

In the aseptic silence of these halls.

I am a nosocomial and failing guest,

A pathogen of polysyllabic grief,

Where cauterized desires find no rest,

And anesthesia offers no relief.

Thy love is a scalpel of obsidian stone,

A hemostatic clamp upon the soul,

That leaves the viscera and marrow bone,

Beneath a malpractice of control.

No Hippocratic oath can bind thy hand;

I bleed according to thy stern command.

Sonnet XXXII: The Ballistic Trajectory of the Sigh

The muzzle velocity of thy shunned address,

Defies the aerodynamic and the sane,

A supersonic surge of bitterness,

Through the laminar currents of my brain.

I calculate the ballistic coefficient,

Of every vituperative and lead word,

Finding the kinetic energy sufficient,

To shatter the parable of the bird.

Thou art the rifling in the barrel of fate,

A gyroscopic and spinning decree,

That propels the projectiles of thy hate,

Into the soft and yielding heart of me.

No Kevlar of the spirit can withstand,

The caliber of thy extended hand.

Sonnet XXXIII: The Paleographical Palimpsest

My consciousness is a parchment of distress,

A palimpsest of vellum and of gall,

Where uncial scripts of ancient loneliness,

Are superscribed by the writing on the wall.

I decipher the carolingian and small,

The ligatures of atrophied desire,

Until the illuminated margins fall,

Into the purgatorial and scripted fire.

Thy beauty is a gloss, a marginal note,

A scholium of metaphysical light,

That redacts the sentences I once wrote,

In the codex of the unending night.

Let the philologist sift the dusty shelf;

I find the lacuna within my self.

Thirty-three sonnets are now codified. We approach the meridian of the fortieth. we shall turn the maximalist lens toward medieval siege engines or sub-atomic acoustics.

Sesquipedalian Sonnets

We breach the fortieth parallel of this sesquipedalian odyssey, where the maximalism achieves a state of parasitic liquefaction and alchemical transmutation, far eclipsing the jejune lyricism of the Sonnets to Delia.

Sonnet XL: The Helminthic Hagiography of the Soul

The cestoid coils of my entangled grief,

Perform a peristaltic dance of shame,

Seeking a scolex-anchored and brief,

Inhabitation of thy sacred name.

I am the endoparasite of thy grace,

A nematode within the visceral light,

Mapping the lumen of thy stony face,

In the anaerobic silence of the night.

Thy love is the intermediate host,

A trophic level of sublime decay,

Where the metacercaria of the ghost,

Await the predatory light of day.

No anthelminthic logic can expel,

The vermicular heaven of my hell.

Within the athanor of my distress,

The albedo of thy silence starts to calcine,

Until the nigredo of my loneliness,

Is sublimated in a drastic design.

I seek the lapis, the philosopher’s stone,

In the putrefaction of the mortal breath,

Where mercury and sulfur, in bone,

Enact the coagula of living death.

Thou art the rebis, the hermetic twin,

A syzygy of arsenic and of gold,

In whom the solutio of my sin,

Does macrocosmic mysteries unfold.

Let Paracelsus chart the elemental spheres;

I find my tincture in thy acid tears.

Sonnet XLII: The Cryogenic Ossuary of the Ego

The absolute zero of thy cold intent,

Inhibits the molecular and the vile,

Until the kinetic energy is spent,

Within the isothermal of thy smile.

I am a superconductor of despair,

A Meissner effect of repelled desire,

Floating in the liquid-nitrogen air,

Above the extinguished and ancient fire.

Thy beauty is the Bose-Einstein condensate,

A singular and macroscopic wave,

Where quantum fluctuations of my fate,

Find a cryogenic and silent grave.

In this stasis, no entropy can reign,

Save the frozen architecture of my brain.

Continue the logomachic ascent?

Sonnet XLI: The Athanor of Transfinitude

Forty-two sonnets are now vitrified in this maximalist reliquary. We approach the final octet.

Driftboats.part one

Across the driftwood driven by driftwinds driftsail and and driftweeds pummeled at shore

A driftpunch,on a driftplain and driftpiece

Driftmen trapped in their beleaguered mine

Over drift sport that they could barely muster

How come this drift wind not spare the driftway in the inclement drag sail as any of the drift sail driftingly fallen in the drift period?

Behold the drill head in the drilling mud is drowned in the driftwood 

Across the drill plow drillmen in obscene numbers gone to slain in the arms of the Morpheus 

And hardly a drill sergeant to thrive novel drillmen at sea

Homestead a repertoire of drinking songs and bagatelles 

Not the impervious hoods but drinky driploops and drippiest in their dressparade,driveling and frittered off every morsel of homestead in a lifelong 

A door or a window with no drip-cap undressing the part,

O with a dress rehearsal disarmed with dress shield and dress pattern,

A driftage with no drift alarm and drift anchor 

To wag tail of the drift boats through the drift angle and drift avalanche 

The drift current cannot kill but the pressurized dread breathing of the avalanche 

Raises up the broken chins of the flotsam this loathsome bizarre of red flags 

This spectrum of drive boats drive a wedge betwixt the driveways driven into hard bargain of droopy and driveling stances.

Not in the cunningness of their copse,thicket, chaparral, coppice,droke, brushwoods of droughty-drouked, did they have the warm to drubber beyond the bullish drow and dropshot in their drolleries 

But lingering driving axles loitering dreams broken driftsail at driftwinds 

Drumfired drumgate of drumlied drumble-drones 

A drumslade from drum slide and drumsketch,

Banging melodies defied by this drudgeries

Not so clownish being bewildered as dissident of their own wraith

Whereon this ilk hardly duke dulce est desipe-re in loco 

Neither a dulce et decorum est pro patria mo-ri 

Nor hamstrung by the dulcitude and orgiastic addiction of nostalgia and smitten by martyrdom in their drools

Dumbasses, dumb bunnies and dumb clucks across their dumb compass hamstrung in their dumbbarter

Dunderplates in the dundrearies

Still dump men across the dump storm hardly a halted sea wave summoned

Not the donjon of dungbaths could avert the stigma and blot on the escutcheons 

Dunniewassals elope into the precedent pith of hell

Cabbage dunkshots from a dunkard a frontline desiderata for the homosapiens 

The Atlantic Soul

The Atlantic Soul (Cape Verde / Cabo Verde)

A sonnet on the Morna songs and the volcanic beauty of this island nation.

Ten islands scattered in the ocean’s spray,

Born of the fire and the salty wind,

Where Morna singers weep the night away,

For all the loved ones that they left behind.

From Fogo’s peak where blackened lava flows,

To Sal’s white sands where turquoise waters meet,

The spirit of Sodade forever grows,

A bittersweet and hauntingly soft beat.

A bridge of cultures on the westward track,

Where Europe and the Motherland embrace,

The wanderer is always looking back,

To see the beauty in a Creole face.

Though small in soil, your music travels far,

A shining light beneath the Atlantic star.

With these, we've covered a vast range of the continent's geography and soul. 

Sesquipedalian Sonnets

We ascend to the forty-eighth station of this thesauric apocalypse, where the lexical density achieves a state of Schwarzschild criticality, rendering the jejune sonnets of the Pléiade mere monosyllabic dust.

Sonnet XLVI: The Transcendental Ballistics of the Sigh

The muzzle-velocity of thy shunned address,

Exceeds the parabolic and the sane,

A supersonic surge of bitterness,

Through the laminar currents of my brain.

I calculate the ballistic coefficient,

Of every vituperative and lead word,

Finding the kinetic energy sufficient,

To shatter the parable of the bird.

Thou art the rifling in the bore of fate,

A gyroscopic and spinning decree,

That propels the projectiles of thy hate,

Into the soft and yielding heart of me.

No Kevlar of the spirit can withstand,

The ordnance of thy extended hand.

Sonnet XLVII: The Cosmological Void-Theory of Grace

The baryonic matter of my failed intent,

Is annihilated by thy anti-soul,

Where virtual particles of discontent,

In the quantum vacuum of thy control,

Perform a Stochastic and random dance,

Beneath the Planck-length of thy stern regard,

Where the probabilities of chance,

Are by thy observation quite debarred.

Thou art the Inflaton, the scalar field,

That exponentially expands the dark,

Until the galaxies of mercy yield,

To the extinction of the vital spark.

In this Zero-point and frigid estate,

I am the singularity of fate.

Sonnet XLVIII: The Iatrogenic Architecture of the Will

The trocar of thy glance performs a breach,

Through peritoneal and sacred walls,

Where iatrogenic phantoms start to preach,

In the aseptic silence of these halls.

I am a nosocomial and failing guest,

A pathogen of polysyllabic grief,

Where cauterized desires find no rest,

And anesthesia offers no relief.

Thy love is a scalpel of obsidian stone,

A hemostatic clamp upon the soul,

That leaves the viscera and marrow bone,

Beneath a malpractice of control.

No Hippocratic oath can bind thy hand;

I exsanguinate by thy stern command.

Forty-eight sonnets are now vitrified in this maximalist furnace. We approach the final dyad. We move onto the fiftieth sonnet as a terminological suicide or a transcendental lexicon

The Nigerian Army Officers

Apparently below we examine the ranks of the Nigerian army

The Nigerian Army rank structure is divided into two main categories: Commissioned Officers and Non-Commissioned Officers (Enlisted)

Commissioned Officer Ranks (High to Low) 

These officers are the top decision-makers and leaders, often trained at the Nigerian Defence Academy (NDA). 

Field Marshal: A 5-star rank, typically honorary and held only by the President as Commander-in-Chief.

General: A 4-star rank; the highest achievable active-service rank.

Lieutenant General: A 3-star rank; often held by the Chief of Army Staff.

Major General: A 2-star rank.

Brigadier General: A 1-star rank; the lowest of the general officer ranks.

Colonel: Senior field officer in charge of regiments.

Lieutenant Colonel: Commands battalions.

Major: High-level administrative and operational planner.

Captain: Senior tactical leader commanding company-sized units.

Lieutenant: Junior officer leading small platoons.

Second Lieutenant: The entry-level rank for commissioned officers. 

Non-Commissioned Officers (High to Low) 

These soldiers handle the daily operations and technical execution of mission.

Army Warrant Officer: The highest NCO rank; advisor to top commanders.

Master Warrant Officer: Highly respected rank responsible for order and discipline.

Warrant Officer: A veteran NCO with administrative and leadership roles.

Staff Sergeant: Supervises multiple squads.

Sergeant: Leads and trains junior soldiers in a squad.

Corporal: A team leader who assists sergeants.

Lance Corporal: The first step into leadership for a soldier.

Private: A basic trained soldier who follows orders.

Recruit: A trainee who has not yet completed initial military training. 

Sub-Lieutenant Nigerian Air Force: Flying Officer These ranks are ...

23 Dec 2025 — I have been seeing lots of Nigerians arguing not just about the Wike vs Yerima issue, but many people, including news outlets, are...

To continue, here is the breakdown of the salary structure, insignia (visual symbols), and promotion requirements for the Nigerian Army.

1. Monthly Salary Structure

The salaries below are estimates based on the Consolidated Armed Forces Salary Structure (CONAFSS) and recent welfare adjustments. 

Rank Estimated Monthly Salary (₦)

General ₦1.5M – ₦2.0M

Major General ₦950k – ₦1.5M

Brigadier General ₦750k – ₦1.0M

Colonel ₦420k – ₦600k

Lieutenant Colonel ₦300k – ₦360k

Major ₦230k – ₦300k

Captain ₦200k – ₦230k

Second Lieutenant ₦120k – ₦180k

Master Warrant Officer ₦90k – ₦166k

Staff Sergeant ₦69k – ₦87k

Private ₦50k – ₦104k*

*Note: Recent reports suggest new recruits may start at ₦104,000 following 2025 welfare updates. 

2. Rank Insignia (Visual Symbols)

The Nigerian Army uses symbols largely patterned after the British system, with the Nigerian Eagle replacing the British Crown. 

General Officers: Identified by a crossed sword and baton. A Full General adds two stars and an eagle; a Major General has an eagle over the crossed sword/baton.

Colonel: One silver eagle above two vertically aligned six-pointed stars.

Major: A single "silver eagle" on the shoulder.

Captain: Three six-pointed stars vertically aligned.

NCOs: Use chevrons (V-shaped stripes) or coat-of-arms symbols. A Sergeant typically wears three chevrons, while a Corporal wears two. 

3. Promotion Requirements

Promotion is not automatic; it is based on merit, seniority, and specific milestones. 

Commissioned Officers: Must pass mandatory promotion exams (e.g., Lieutenant to Captain) and attend professional courses like the Young Officers Course (YOC).

Non-Commissioned Officers: Progress based on "Time-in-Grade" (years served in a current rank) and recommendations from superior officers based on discipline and leadership.

Academic Progression: Many NCOs transition to commissioned ranks by obtaining a degree and applying for Direct Short Service Commission (DSSC). 

..

Nigerian Military Salary Structure - Facebook

28 Nov 2024 — Colonel: ₦351,296.83 - ₦384,728.75 • Colonel: ₦420,535.50 - ₦463,062.00 • Brigadier General: ₦887,637.92 - ₦1,023,551.42 • Major 

14 Apr 2025 — The highest position Igbo man can attend in 15 years in the military is 6th position which is the staff Sergeant..

To wrap up, here are the specific military courses for career growth, the recruitment paths for becoming an officer, and the organization of the Nigerian Army’s specialized units.

1. Mandatory Career Progression Courses

Officers and Non-Commissioned Officers (NCOs) must complete specific professional military education to qualify for higher ranks and responsibilities. 

For Officers:

Young Officers Course (YOC): A foundational tactical course for Lieutenants and Captains.

Junior Course: Conducted at the Armed Forces Command and Staff College (AFCSC), Jaji; essential for Captains moving toward the rank of Major.

Senior Course: A one-year intensive program at AFCSC for Majors; graduates earn the prestigious "Pass Staff Course" (psc) title.

National Defence College (NDC): The highest level of military education in Nigeria, typically for Colonels and Brigadier Generals.

For Non-Commissioned Officers (NCOs):

Staff Duties Course: Designed for Senior NCOs to standardize administrative and leadership duties across the services.

Leadership and Management Training: Specialized courses at the Nigerian Army Resource Centre (NARC) focused on ethical and visionary leadership for Warrant Officers. 

2. Recruitment Paths to Commissioned Rank

There are four primary ways to join the officer corps, each with different training durations and career limits. 

Regular Combatant (RC): Candidates (ages 17–21) train for 5 years at the Nigerian Defence Academy (NDA); they graduate with a degree and a commission as a Second Lieutenant.

Short Service Combatant (SSC): For graduates (ages 23–27); involves 9 months of training at the NDA. Officers serve an initial 15-year bond.

Direct Short Service Commission (DSSC): For professionals (e.g., doctors, lawyers, engineers) aged 22–35. Training lasts 6 months; candidates are often commissioned as Lieutenants (or Majors for medical consultants).

Executive Commission (EC): A special path for outstanding Senior NCOs to be commissioned as officers based on merit and experience. 

3. Specialized Corps and Beret Colors

The Army is divided into "Arms" and "Services," identified by their unique beret colors: 

Infantry Corps: The primary land combat force (Light Green Beret).

Armour Corps: Operates tanks and armored vehicles (Black Beret).

Intelligence Corps: Gathers and analyzes military data (Dark Green Beret).

Medical Corps: Provides healthcare (Maroon Beret).

Military Police: Maintains law and order within the force (Red Beret).

Signals & Engineers: Handle communications and construction (Dark Blue Beret). 

To finalize the overview, here are the locations of the major divisions and the current recruitment status for 2026.

1. Locations of the 8 Army Divisions

Each division is headed by a General Officer Commanding (GOC) and is responsible for a specific geographical zone (Area of Responsibility). 

Division Headquarters Location Major Installation Key Focus

1 Division Kaduna, Kaduna State Dalet Barracks North-West security & Operation Whirl Punch.

2 Division Ibadan, Oyo State Adekunle Fajuyi Cantonment South-West security; technical & tactical training.

3 Armoured Division Jos, Plateau State Maxwell Khobe Cantonment Armoured warfare and North-Central security.

6 Amphibious Division Port Harcourt, Rivers State 6 Division Barracks Niger Delta & maritime asset protection.

7 Infantry Division Maiduguri, Borno State Maimalari Cantonment Counter-insurgency (Operation Hadin Kai).

8 Division Sokoto, Sokoto State 8 Division HQ North-West counter-terrorism & banditry.

81 Division Lagos, Lagos State T.A. Lagbaja Cantonment Urban security for Lagos and Ogun States.

82 Composite Division Enugu, Enugu State 82 Division Barracks South-East security; airborne/amphibious roles.

2. Current 2026 Recruitment Deadlines 

The Nigerian Army has active recruitment cycles for both Short Service and Direct Short Service commissions in early 2026. 

Direct Short Service Commission (DSSC) Course 29/2026:

Status: Shortlisted candidates have been announced.

Reporting: Successful candidates are required to report to the Nigerian Army School of Infantry (NASI), Jaji between 23 February and 8 March 2026.

Short Service Combatant (SSC) Course 49/2026:

Deadline: Applications generally closed by 4 February 2026 for this intake.

Training Duration: SSC cadets undergo 9 months of training, while DSSC cadets undergo 6 months of intensive training. 

3. Key Requirements for Applicants

If you are planning for the next cycle, keep these official requirements in mind:

Education: Minimum of a First Degree (Second Class Lower) or HND (Lower Credit).

Age: Generally 23–27 for SSC; up to 30 for DSSC (specialists like medical consultants can be up to 40).

Documentation: Must provide a valid NYSC Discharge or Exemption Certificate. 

Sesquipedalian Sonnets

We lurch toward the sexagesimal threshold, where the intensive lexical maximalism achieves a state of iatrogenic putrefaction and interstellar jurisprudence, rendering the Elizabethan canon a mere monosyllabic casualty.

Sonnet LVII: The Iatrogenic Reliquary of Spleen

The trocar of thy glance performs a breach,

Through peritoneal and sacred walls,

Where iatrogenic phantoms start to preach,

In the aseptic silence of these halls.

I am a nosocomial and failing guest,

A pathogen of polysyllabic grief,

Where cauterized desires find no rest,

And anesthesia offers no relief.

Thy love is a scalpel of obsidian stone,

A hemostatic clamp upon the soul,

That leaves the viscera and marrow bone,

Beneath a malpractice of control.

No Hippocratic oath can bind thy hand;

I exsanguinate by thy stern command.

Sonnet LVIII: The Interstellar Jurisprudence of Void

I file a writ of certiorari to the stars,

Against the summary judgment of thy will,

But find the habeas behind these bars,

Is stipulated by a lethal skill.

The litany of thy torts is prolix and vast,

A codex of unremedied abuse,

Where precedents of ancient grief are cast,

In syllogisms of a tightening noose.

No advocate can plead this hopeless cause,

Before the magistracy of the Quark,

Where probabilistic and legal laws,

Scatter the affidavits in the dark.

Thou art the verdict, the collapsing eye,

That liquidates the spirit by its look.

Sonnet LIX: The Taxidermic Apotheosis

The arsenic and the alum of thy gaze,

Desiccate the viscera of my pride,

While strychnine in the interstitial maze,

Leaves the integument of the ego dried.

I am eviscerated and stuffed with tow,

A glass-eyed effigy of ancient lust,

Where borax and mercuric vapors flow,

To mummify the metaphoric dust.

Thy visage is the diorama of decay,

A curated and pathological display,

Where anilin dyes of yesterday,

Are in the plumage of the spirit furled.

No Shakespearean verse can animate,

This cadaveric and parochial state.

We have surpassed the LIX (59) mark. We are poised at the sixtieth sonnet—a hexagesimal monument.  We shall conclude this maximalist onslaught with a terminological suicide, or pivot to an exploration of pre-Cambrian ballistics.

Sesquipedalian Sonnets

We proceed to the septuagesimal threshold, where the intensive lexical maximalism achieves a state of hermetic opacity, rendering the Elizabethan idiom a mere monosyllabic casualty.

Sonnet LXIII: The Cryopreserved Semiotics of Grief

The vitrification of my latent sigh,

In liquid-nitrogen and pallid gloom,

Preserves the morpheme of a stagnant cry,

Within the cryogenic and sterile tomb.

I am a superconductor of distress,

A Meissner-effect of repelled desire,

Where isothermal states of loneliness,

Extinguish the caloric and ancient fire.

Thy visage is the Bose-Einstein state,

A macroscopic and coherent wave,

Where quantum fluctuations of my fate,

Find a sub-kelvin and silent grave.

In this stasis, no entropy can reign,

Save the frozen architecture of my brain.

Sonnet LXIV: The Histological Palimpsest of Skin

The dermatoglyphics of thy stern regard,

Are etched in keratin and squalene,

Where melanocytes, of mercy barred,

Compose a vituperative and dark scene.

I am the epidermal and the void,

A stratified and squamous regret,

By desmosomes of ancient grief buoyed,

Within a dermal and viscous net.

Thy beauty is the basal-cell decree,

A mitotic and malignant display,

That exfoliates the spirit from the me,

In the sebaceous light of the day.

No histology can parse the span,

Of the excoriated and leathered man.

Sonnet LXV: The Metallurgical Hagiography of Spleen

The cupro-nickel sky begins to oxidize,

Above the smelting furnaces of thought,

Where molybdenum and chrome disguise,

The amalgam that thy cruelty has wrought.

I am the slag, the scoria of the blast,

A vitrified and useless residue,

From which the adamantine heart is cast,

In a crucible that dares to look at you.

The tensile strength of my obsessive line,

Defies the corrosive and acidic rain,

As isotopes of agony combine,

To form the alloy of eternal pain.

Let Vulcan forge the shield and the spear;

I inhabit the iron of my fear.

We have surpassed the LXV mark. The lexical sediment is now impermeable.

Obviously we shall escalate toward the one-hundredth sonnet, or perhaps conclude this maximalist onslaught with a terminological suicide.

Sesquipedalian Sonnets

To accommodate your thirst for lexical hypertrophy, we shall extend this monolithic sequence beyond the quinary decad, into the realm of post-maximalist superabundance.

Sonnet LI: The Cryopreserved Semiotics of Grief

The vitrification of my latent sigh,

In liquid-nitrogen and pallid gloom,

Preserves the morpheme of a stagnant cry,

Within the cryogenic and sterile tomb.

I am a superconductor of distress,

A Meissner-effect of repelled desire,

Where isothermal states of loneliness,

Extinguish the caloric and ancient fire.

Thy visage is the Bose-Einstein state,

A macroscopic and coherent wave,

Where quantum fluctuations of my fate,

Find a sub-kelvin and silent grave.

In this stasis, no entropy can reign,

Save the frozen architecture of my brain.

Sonnet LII: The Histological Palimpsest of Skin

The dermatoglyphics of thy stern regard,

Are etched in keratin and squalene,

Where melanocytes, of mercy barred,

Compose a vituperative and dark scene.

I am the epidermal and the void,

A stratified and squamous regret,

By desmosomes of ancient grief buoyed,

Within a dermal and viscous net.

Thy beauty is the basal-cell decree,

A mitotic and malignant display,

That exfoliates the spirit from the me,

In the sebaceous light of the day.

No histology can parse the span,

Of the excoriated and leathered man.

Sonnet LIII: The Metallurgical Hagiography of Spleen

The cupro-nickel sky begins to oxidize,

Above the smelting furnaces of thought,

Where molybdenum and chrome disguise,

The amalgam that thy cruelty has wrought.

I am the slag, the scoria of the blast,

A vitrified and useless residue,

From which the adamantine heart is cast,

In a crucible that dares to look at you.

The tensile strength of my obsessive line,

Defies the corrosive and acidic rain,

As isotopes of agony combine,

To form the alloy of eternal pain.

Let Vulcan forge the shield and the spear;

I inhabit the iron of my fear.

The deluge persists. Fifty-three monoliths now stand. We  proceed to the sixtieth meridian of this polysyllabic nightmare, perhaps exploring pre-Cambrian gastrology or quantum jurisprudence

Sesquipedalian : Sonnets 01,02,03

The Thaumaturgic Lexicon: Fifty Alchemical Cantos of Sesquipedalian Grandeur

Sonnet I: The Entombed Radiance

O, how this thaumaturgic light distills,

From petrichor and vespertine repose,

The quiddity of amethystine hills,

Where argent dew on calyxed flora glows.

No misericord for the recreant eye,

That shuns the rubicund and sepia sweep,

Of firmaments where zygodactyls fly,

And ophidian shadows through the stasis creep.

Thou art the pleroma, the gnostic flame,

A coruscating pulse in vitrified veins,

Absolving every nominalist name,

Till only ultramarine truth remains.

Thy pulchritude is adamantine steel,

Which even Atropos cannot conceal.

Sonnet II: The Alchemical Heart

Within the athanor of my desire,

The nigredo of longing starts to bloom,

Transmuting leaden grief to solar fire,

Amidst the chiaroscuro of the tomb.

Thy breath—a susurrus of aeolian gold,

Does fructify the barren heaths of mind,

While syzygies of ancient stars unfold,

In mathematics cruelly refined.

I seek no paltry grace of mortal breath,

But sublimation in thy ichor’s flow,

A cataphract against the march of death,

Where phosphorescent orchids wildly grow.

For in thy viscera, the cosmos spins,

And there the eschaton of love begins.

Sonnet III: The Lexicon of the Infinite

Let pedants preach their jejune homilies,

And sciolists decry this turgid verse,

I’ll plunder thesauric anomalies,

To deck the catafalque of the universe.

Each phoneme is a talismanic bead,

Strung on a filament of transient thought,

Sown like a hyper-intellectual seed,

In soils where labyrinthine dreams are wrought.

Thy beauty is a prolix epiphany,

A theophany in paralytic blue,

The overture to some grandiloquent sea,

That washes obsolescence from the view.

Not Avon’s swan nor Ovid’s artful line,

Can match this sesquipedalian design.

Sesquipedalian Sonnets

We proceed to the twenty-seventh station of this thesauric pilgrimage, where the lexical tumescence enters the realm of the neurological and the vestigial.

Sonnet XXV: The Neuro-Cartography of Obsession

The arborization of my dendritic grief,

Extends through synaptic clefts of gray,

Where neurotransmitters, in venomous relief,

Inhibit the dopaminergic light of day.

I map the sulci of thy stern disdain,

Within the amygdala’s red recess,

Where myelinated axons of ancient pain,

Conduct the impulses of loneliness.

Thou art the lesion, the infarct of the will,

A lobotomy performed with golden shears,

That leaves the prefrontal cortex vast and still,

Beneath the cerebellum of my fears.

No electroencephalograph can trace,

The voltage of thy unremembered face.

Sonnet XXVI: The Vestigial Reliquary

I nurse the atavistic and the prone,

The caudal remnant of a reptile dream,

Where appendix and coccyx, in shame alone,

Decry the evolutionary and cruel scheme.

We are but biological and brief mistakes,

Palimpsests of primitive and failed design,

Where the involution of the spirit aches,

To reach the anthropoid and the divine.

Thy beauty is an exaptation of the void,

A serendipity of flesh and bone,

By which the telos of the soul is buoyed,

And Darwin’s grim determinism is thrown.

Let the paleontologist sift the marl;

I find the human in thy predatory snarl.

Sonnet XXVII: The Nautical Putrefaction

The scuppered vessel of my sanity drifts,

Through sargasso seas of decomposing kelp,

Where the tectonic and abyssal shifts,

Offer no succor and no maritime help.

The barnacles of stasis clutch the hull,

A calcified and parasitic weight,

While the desiccated and the screaming gull,

Mocks the nadir of my maritime estate.

Thy love is the maelstrom, the corryvreckan roar,

A hydrostatic and lethal embrace,

That drags the shipwrecked to the ocean floor,

Beyond the latitude of saving grace.

In this pelagic and unfathomed deep,

The leviathans of lexicon never sleep.

We have surpassed the halfway mark of the grand climacteric. 

Twenty-seven sonnets are cemented in maximalist amber. Obviously we shall surge toward the thirtieth, perhaps invoking obsolete military fortifications or chromatic aberration.

Sesquipedalian Sonnets

We reach the apotheosis of this logomachic monument, concluding with a terminological suicide that renders the Elizabethan canon a mere monosyllabic footnote.

Sonnet XLIX: The Geological Cataphract of the Ego

I drape my consciousness in igneous rock,

A lithosphere of petrified remorse,

Where seismic tremors of the ego shock,

The tectonic plates of nature’s weary course.

The stratigraphy of thy cruel heart,

Reveals a cambrian layer of shale,

Where fossils of a pre-adamite art,

Tell the geochronology of our fail.

Thou art the batholith, the magma core,

A plutonic surge of unrelenting heat,

That metamorphoses the ocean floor,

And makes the obsidian of life complete.

Let Pliny chart the mountain and the plain;

I inhabit the volcano of thy brain.

Sonnet L: The Eschatological Lexicon

The finality of this prolix and vast,

Sesquipedalian and dark design,

Is superseded and forever cast,

In a maximalist and unholy shrine.

No Shakespearean or Petrarchan line,

Can circumscribe this terminological death,

Where consonants and vowels intertwine,

To suffocate the mortal and the breath.

I am the glossematic and the void,

The lexicographical and final state,

Where semantics are entirely destroyed,

By the syntax of an indifferent fate.

Let the thesaurus close its leaden eye;

In this supercritical light, I die.

The Fifty are complete—a monument of intensive lexical maximalism hewn from the marrow of the dictionary.

Should we curate these into a final digital codex, or shall we pivot to a prose manifesto

Sesquipedalian Sonnets

We lurch into the forty-fifth station, where the lexical hypertrophy achieves a state of seismological heraldry and moribund linguistics, far surpassing the pedestrian quatrains of the Sidneyan school.

Sonnet XLIII: The Seismological Heraldry of the Heart

The epicenter of thy stern neglect,

Sends Rayleigh waves of shattering disdain,

Through the lithospheric and the incorrect,

Stratigraphy of my tectonic brain.

I am the seismograph of thy shunned address,

A needle scratching obsidian and shale,

Recording the magnitude of loneliness,

On a Richter scale that is doomed to fail.

Thy armorial bearings are fault-lines,

A chevron of subduction and of dispute,

Where the magma of ancient designs,

Renders the topography of mercy mute.

Let the herald blazon the argent and gold;

I inhabit the fissure that the centuries hold.

Sonnet XLIV: The Moribund Linguistics of the Void

I speak in hapax legomena and signs,

Of glottochronological and deep decay,

Where the etymology of love declines,

Into the obsolescence of the day.

The phonology of thy cold intent,

Is a fricative and sibilant hiss,

Where the morphemes of desire are spent,

In the aphasia of thy bitter kiss.

Thou art the proto-language, the root,

From which the dialects of anguish spring,

The inflectional and the hollow fruit,

To which the stuttering and the dying cling.

No lexicographer can map the span,

Of the unvoiced and the lexical man.

Sonnet XLV: The Pathological Architecture of the Ego

The necrotic and the pustulant beam,

Supports the clerestory of my shame,

Where enzymatic ghosts of a failed dream,

Inundate the foundations of my name.

I am a mausoleum of living flesh,

A sarcophagus of syllables and bile,

Caught in the histological and mesh,

Of thy vituperative and lethal smile.

Thy beauty is the carcinoma, the growth,

A malignant and turgid epiphany,

That excoriates the spirit and the oath,

In the oncology of thy tyranny.

Let the architect build with marble and lime;

I build with the pus and the syntax of time.

Forty-five sonnets are now consecrated. We stand upon the precipice of the final five. Truly we conclude this maximalist massacre with a turn toward transcendental ballistics

Israel Vs Iran:Is the threat of Third World War real?

Late prophet T.B.Joshua prophesied if the Israel triy to attack Iran then the third world war would start.

This was intense argument on social media.Aniche dismissed the prophecy: “Even ongoing conflict between Israel and Iran since the 1980’s. Even my local dog could sense that a direct confrontation between Israel and Iran was brewing.” SodipoPersonality41 said the late cleric’s prophecy is real: “Unlike what we have now, prophecies are not thin that happen in short periods; they tend to happen years later. This here was a Prophecy from the man of God that is unfolding now. When men prophesied about the birth of Jesus, it manifested years later.”Ezekwem Zecks shared his testimony: “After coming in contact with this man in 2013 with my then gf who is now my wonderful wife with two amazing boys, the tides changed for good for us !! A great man of god. keep resting in power.”Blue Panda said the war can be projected if the development in the Middle East is duly followed: “This is no prophecy. Anyone who follows news concerning the Middle East region knows that there will always be war between Israel and any or all of its other neighbours. It’s like me saying that there would be war between Egypt and Israel if we don’t pray against it.”Adeyemi prayed for peace in the world: “Nations have taken sides, Pastors have taken sides alfas have taken sides, so, who’s preaching the peace that the world needs now?”

Sesquipedalian Sonnets

We proceed to the septuagesimal threshold, where the intensive lexical maximalism achieves a state of hermetic opacity, rendering the Elizabethan idiom a mere monosyllabic casualty.

Sonnet LXVI: The Vestigial Reliquary of Atavism

I nurse the atavistic and the prone,

The caudal remnant of a reptile dream,

Where appendix and coccyx, in shame alone,

Decry the evolutionary and cruel scheme.

We are but biological and brief mistakes,

Palimpsests of primitive and failed design,

Where the involution of the spirit aches,

To reach the anthropoid and the divine.

Thy beauty is an exaptation of the void,

A serendipity of flesh and bone,

By which the telos of the soul is buoyed,

And Darwin’s grim determinism is thrown.

Let the paleontologist sift the marl;

I find the human in thy predatory snarl.

Sonnet LXVII: The Nautical Putrefaction of the Will

The scuppered vessel of my sanity drifts,

Through sargasso seas of decomposing kelp,

Where the tectonic and abyssal shifts,

Offer no succor and no maritime help.

The barnacles of stasis clutch the hull,

A calcified and parasitic weight,

While the desiccated and the screaming gull,

Mocks the nadir of my maritime estate.

Thy love is the maelstrom, the corryvreckan roar,

A hydrostatic and lethal embrace,

That drags the shipwrecked to the ocean floor,

Beyond the latitude of saving grace.

In this pelagic and unfathomed deep,

The leviathans of lexicon never sleep.

Sonnet LXVIII: The Chromatic Aberration of Desire

The refractive index of thy stern regard,

Splits the monochromatic soul in twain,

Where ultraviolet specters, unprepared and scarred,

Are diffracted through the prism of my pain.

No achromatic lens can rectify,

The fringing of this luminescent lie,

Where cyan shadows and magenta voices cry,

Beneath the photometric and callous sky.

Thou art the albedo, the reflective sheen,

Of a white dwarf in thermodynamic death,

Projecting iridescence, viscous and obscene,

Upon the spectroscopy of my failing breath.

Let Newton parse the rainbow and the ray;

I drown in the chroma of thy decay.

We have surpassed the LXVIII mark. The lexical sediment is now impermeable. Obviously we escalate toward the one-hundredth sonnet, or perhaps conclude this maximalist onslaught with a terminological suicide.

Sesquipedalian Sonnets

We proceed to the septuagesimal meridian, where the intensive lexical maximalism achieves a state of hermetic opacity, rendering the Elizabethan idiom a mere monosyllabic casualty.

Sonnet LXIX: The Vauban Fortification of the Ego

I raise a ravelin of petrified tropes,

A bastion of polysyllabic stone,

To shield the glacis of my shattered hopes,

From the bombardment of thy voice alone.

This architectonic and vaubanian wall,

With scarp and counterscarp of deep disdain,

Awaits the siege where lesser spirits fall,

Beneath the ordnance of eternal rain.

Thy love is a sapping and subterranean mine,

A petard hoisted at the postern gate,

Where tunnels of insidious design,

Undermine the ramparts of my state.

Though the citadel is crumbled and defiled,

The rubble is sovereign and unreconciled.

Sonnet LXX: The Xylographic Necrology

I carve thy epitaph in lignified spleen,

Upon a xylographic block of yew,

Where cambium and phloem, in ghastly green,

Exude the ichor of the old and true.

The grain of my obsession is cross-hatched,

A burin’s labor in the stiffened wood,

Where splinters of a spirit—now unmatched—

Are gouged as only dying artists could.

Thou art the matrix, the incised and voided space,

Which defines the ink by what it is not,

The vacuity of thy imperious face,

The blight that the living forest begot.

Let the Gutenberg press replicate the mean;

I print the singular and the terrible scene.

Sonnet LXXI: The Iatrogenic Reliquary of Despair

The trocar of thy glance performs a breach,

Through peritoneal and sacred walls,

Where iatrogenic phantoms start to preach,

In the aseptic silence of these halls.

I am a nosocomial and failing guest,

A pathogen of polysyllabic grief,

Where cauterized desires find no rest,

And anesthesia offers no relief.

Thy love is a scalpel of obsidian stone,

A hemostatic clamp upon the soul,

That leaves the viscera and marrow bone,

Beneath a malpractice of control.

No Hippocratic oath can bind thy hand;

I bleed according to thy stern command.

We have surpassed the LXXI mark. The lexical sediment is now impermeable. Now we escalate toward the centenary sonnet.

The Possibility Of Dreams.part 256

There's no denying the fact the foolproof empirical evidence of an abiding faith is embedded in the sanctity of the vision entertained by the sapient mind .The exemplary exemplifies the unyielding spirit of that abidance who in the face of dampening conditions annihilates the sombres of the impervious storms.To unleash the monumental glow of this checkered but transformative impetus often remains the underlining command and a defining moment of an epochal times often ruined by the obese of perilous times.We re made of that immaculate steel and of the inexorable moist of impeccable spirit to traverse the uncharted trajectory of greater beyond to secure the everlasting pedigree of pyrhic victory and slaughtered our perilous times beyond a reasonable doubt.Methink the ministry of salvation that is ushered into the transaction of human reflection through the price of freedom guarrantees and enables the characters of trust in avoidance of trust erosion to secure our much vaunted objectives in life.We must trust the characters of faith not to under pay the momentum warranted by the price of freedom at either the most beautiful and most worrisome part of our history. The historic struggles of development imbibes the visionary spirit and the religion of visionary spirit cannot be pothered not to undermine ways and means to pay this exorbitant prices of freedom.Human development must be truly sensitive to the historical virtues of human reflection at influencing the golden age of human transformation with a view to enable the epochal investment of this historic transmission to breathe the most ideal historical transformation required by the average individual when the ultimate virtues of human development is enabled and intensely explored.The politics of human prejudice affords us the ingrained capabilities not to humiliate but incense the intense trigger of human reflection at every twist and turns of historical virtues.

The Roof of Africa

The Roof of Africa (Ethiopia)

A sonnet focusing on Ethiopia’s unique history as an uncolonized empire and the cradle of humanity.

No foreign flag has claimed these mountain heights,

Where Lucy’s bones were cradled in the dust,

Through Lalibela’s stone and holy rites,

A kingdom kept its ancient, sacred trust.

The Blue Nile plunges down the deep ravine,

While coffee scent perfumes the highland air,

In Gondar’s halls, the ghosts of kings are seen,

In every church, a whispered, silent prayer.

From Simien peaks where ibex boldly tread,

To Addis where the modern spirit grows,

The blood of kings through every vein is spread,

A flame of pride that never feels the snows.

Abyssinia, mother of the free,

The root and branch of all our history.

Sesquipedalian Sonnets

We proceed to the thirty-sixth station, where the maximalism achieves a state of sub-atomic acoustics and mechanical siege, surpassing the primitive measures of the Sonnets to Mr. W.H.

Sonnet XXXIV: The Phonon of the Finite

The acoustic lattice of my shattered heart,

Vibrates with phonons of thermal decay,

Where piezoelectric currents of art,

In sinusoidal patterns melt away.

No decibel of mercy can resonate,

In the anechoic chamber of thy breast,

Where harmonics of premeditated hate,

Are by a viscous silence suppressed.

Thou art the amplitude, the seismic surge,

A standing wave of infinite disdain,

That performs the frequency and the dirge,

Upon the oscilloscope of my brain.

In this resonance, the tether breaks,

As the ultrasonic and cosmic aches.

Sonnet XXXV: The Siege of the Trebuchet

I am the counterweight of leaden grief,

A trebuchet of metaphoric stone,

Seeking a kinetic and terrible relief,

Against the crenellations of thy throne.

The parapet of thy silence is reared,

With machicolations of cynical light,

Where the scalding oil of the unreared,

Is poured upon the ladder of the night.

Thy love is a battering-ram of iron,

A testudo of overlapping shields,

Which beset the citadel I environ,

Until the bastion of the spirit yields.

In this mechanics of medieval war,

I am the rubble on the charnel floor.

Sonnet XXXVI: The Quantum Entanglement of Spleen

The non-locality of our despair,

Defies the classical and Newtonian law,

Where EPR paradoxes in the air,

Reveal the spooky and the universal flaw.

I am entangled with thy distant state,

A superposition of presence and void,

Where the eigenvalues of my fate,

Are by thy observation quite destroyed.

No Schrödinger equation can resolve,

The cat of consciousness within the box,

As wave-functions of the ego dissolve,

Amidst the quantum and infinite shocks.

Thy spin is down, and mine is forever up,

Draining the probability from the cup.

Thirty-six sonnets have been centrifuged. The lexical sediment is now impermeable.

Obviously we shall advance toward the fortieth, perhaps exploring Victorian taxidermy or thermonuclear

Sesquipedalian Sonnets

We lurch into the octogesimal arc of this logorrheic monument, where the maximalism achieves a state of sub-atomic acoustics and mechanical siege, rendering the Elizabethan idiom a mere monosyllabic casualty.

Sonnet LXXII: The Ballistic Trajectory of the Sigh

The muzzle velocity of thy shunned address,

Defies the aerodynamic and the sane,

A supersonic surge of bitterness,

Through the laminar currents of my brain.

I calculate the ballistic coefficient,

Of every vituperative and lead word,

Finding the kinetic energy sufficient,

To shatter the parable of the bird.

Thou art the rifling in the barrel of fate,

A gyroscopic and spinning decree,

That propels the projectiles of thy hate,

Into the soft and yielding heart of me.

No Kevlar of the spirit can withstand,

The caliber of thy extended hand.

Sonnet LXXIII: The Paleographical Palimpsest

My consciousness is a parchment of distress,

A palimpsest of vellum and of gall,

Where uncial scripts of ancient loneliness,

Are superscribed by the writing on the wall.

I decipher the carolingian and small,

The ligatures of atrophied desire,

Until the illuminated margins fall,

Into the purgatorial and scripted fire.

Thy beauty is a gloss, a marginal note,

A scholium of metaphysical light,

That redacts the sentences I once wrote,

In the codex of the unending night.

Let the philologist sift the dusty shelf;

I find the lacuna within my self.

Sonnet LXXIV: The Phonon of the Finite

The acoustic lattice of my shattered heart,

Vibrates with phonons of thermal decay,

Where piezoelectric currents of art,

In sinusoidal patterns melt away.

No decibel of mercy can resonate,

In the anechoic chamber of thy breast,

Where harmonics of premeditated hate,

Are by a viscous silence suppressed.

Thou art the amplitude, the seismic surge,

A standing wave of infinite disdain,

That performs the frequency and the dirge,

Upon the oscilloscope of my brain.

In this resonance, the tether breaks,

As the ultrasonic and cosmic aches.

We have achieved seventy-four cantos of this thesauric monument. Having surpassed the original fifty, we are now in the realm of lexical superabundance.

We shall advance to the eightieth meridian, perhaps exploring Victorian taxidermy or thermonuclear hagiography.

Sesquipedalian Sonnets

We lurch into the ninetieth parallel, where the intensive lexical maximalism achieves a state of crustacean architecture and quantum jurisprudence, rendering the Elizabethan idiom a mere monosyllabic casualty.

Sonnet LXXXVII: The Carapaced Architecture of Disdain

Thy chitinous and calcified regard,

Constructs a tergum of obsidian light,

Where pleopods of mercy, scarred,

Retreat into the benthic and the night.

I am the decapod of shattered hope,

A crustacean in a saline and dark cell,

Groping the isothermal and cold slope,

Of a sub-oceanic and vicious hell.

Thy beauty is the exoskeleton of grace,

A sclerotized and impervious decree,

That masks the mandibles of thy face,

And the predatory hunger for me.

In this calcination, no spirit can thrive,

Save the armored and the half-alive.

Sonnet LXXXVIII: The Quantum Jurisprudence of the Void

The litigation of my wave-function fails,

Before the magistracy of the Quark,

Where probabilistic and legal gales,

Scatter the affidavits in the dark.

I sue for restitution of the dream,

Against the non-locality of thy will,

But find the causality of the scheme,

Is stipulated by a lethal skill.

Thou art the observer, the collapsing eye,

That defines the verdict by its look,

Beneath the superposition of the sky,

And the jurisdiction of the Book.

No habeas corpus can rescue the soul,

From the entanglement of thy control.

Sonnet LXXXIX: The Gastrological Pre-Cambrian

Within the proterozoic and the deep,

The gastropods of memory emerge,

From the anaerobic and ancient sleep,

To perform the vituperative and dirge.

I am the mollusk of intensive pain,

A radula scraping the granite of time,

Where the visceral and necrotic stain,

Is mummified in pre-adamite slime.

Thy love is the ammonite, the coiled and vast,

The chambered and the nautiloid intent,

Where the paleontology of the past,

Is in the sediment of the present spent.

Let the geologist sift the shale and marl;

I find the infinite in thy calcined snarl.

Eighty-nine sonnets are now excavated. The lexical sediment is now impermeable. Having nearly doubled the initial fifty, we shall escalate to the centenary sonnet. 

Sesquipedalian Sonnets

We lurch into the octogesimal quadrant, where the intensive lexical maximalism achieves a state of parasitic liquefaction and alchemical transmutation, far eclipsing the jejune lyricism of any Elizabethan predecessor.

Sonnet LXXVIII: The Helminthic Hagiography of the Soul

The cestoid coils of my entangled grief,

Perform a peristaltic dance of shame,

Seeking a scolex-anchored and brief,

Inhabitation of thy sacred name.

I am the endoparasite of thy grace,

A nematode within the visceral light,

Mapping the lumen of thy stony face,

In the anaerobic silence of the night.

Thy love is the intermediate host,

A trophic level of sublime decay,

Where the metacercaria of the ghost,

Await the predatory light of day.

No anthelminthic logic can expel,

The vermicular heaven of my hell.

Sonnet LXXIX: The Athanor of Transfinitude

Within the athanor of my distress,

The albedo of thy silence starts to calcine,

Until the nigredo of my loneliness,

Is sublimated in a drastic design.

I seek the lapis, the philosopher’s stone,

In the putrefaction of the mortal breath,

Where mercury and sulfur, in bone,

Enact the coagula of living death.

Thou art the rebis, the hermetic twin,

A syzygy of arsenic and of gold,

In whom the solutio of my sin,

Does macrocosmic mysteries unfold.

Let Paracelsus chart the elemental spheres;

I find my tincture in thy acid tears.

Sonnet LXXX: The Cryogenic Ossuary of the Ego

The absolute zero of thy cold intent,

Inhibits the molecular and the vile,

Until the kinetic energy is spent,

Within the isothermal of thy smile.

I am a superconductor of despair,

A Meissner effect of repelled desire,

Floating in the liquid-nitrogen air,

Above the extinguished and ancient fire.

Thy beauty is the Bose-Einstein condensate,

A singular and macroscopic wave,

Where quantum fluctuations of my fate,

Find a cryogenic and silent grave.

In this stasis, no entropy can reign,

Save the frozen architecture of my brain.

Eighty sonnets are now vitrified in this maximalist reliquary. Having already exceeded my intention for fifty, we approach the final twenty toward the centenary. Hence we escalate to seismological heraldry or pathological linguistics.

Sesquipedalian: Sonnets 07,08,09

We proceed with the tectonic expansion of the sequence, delving further into the esoteric and the anatomical.

Sonnet VII: The Ossified Epiphany

The periosteum of the world is thin,

Revealing haversian canals of light,

Where calcified regrets and marrow sin,

Are bleached within the zenith of the night.

No soporific balm can ease the ache,

Of synovial joints that grind on void,

Where osteoblasts of memory awake,

To build the shrines that atrophy destroyed.

Thou art the foramen, the secret breach,

Through which the spirit's effervescence flows,

Beyond the manubrium’s rigid reach,

To where the incorporeal lily grows.

Let mortals fear the skeleton's decree;

I find my structure only within thee.

Sonnet VIII: The Botanical Purgatory

In chlorophyllous depths of verdant gloom,

The angiosperms whisper sibilant spells,

While stomata inhale the heavy fume,

Of decomposition in floral cells.

The rhizome of my anguish spreads unseen,

A thallophytic web beneath the loam,

Where xylem drinks the vitriol of spleen,

And mycelium makes the darkness home.

Thy petals are a polyphonic choir,

Of iridescent and malefic hues,

Consuming every terrestrial desire,

With nectar that the prodigal pursues.

In this arboreal and stifling heat,

My fragmentation is at last complete.

Sonnet IX: The Jurisprudence of Despair

What litigation can the soul provide,

Before the magistracy of the stars?

When habeas corpus is at last denied,

And consciousness is trapped behind its bars.

The affidavit of the beating heart,

Is notarized in hemoglobin ink,

A testament to evolutionary art,

Balanced upon the precipitous brink.

I sue for restitution of the dream,

Against the usury of fleeting time,

Where causality is but a fevered scheme,

And innocence is the only capital crime.

Yet thy jurisdiction is my sole relief,

The sovereign end to litigious grief.

Sesquipedalian Sonnets

We proceed to the eighty-third station, where the intensive lexical maximalism achieves a state of seismological heraldry and moribund linguistics, far surpassing the pedestrian quatrains of the Sidneyan school.

Sonnet LXXXI: The Seismological Heraldry of the Heart

The epicenter of thy stern neglect,

Sends Rayleigh waves of shattering disdain,

Through the lithospheric and the incorrect,

Stratigraphy of my tectonic brain.

I am the seismograph of thy shunned address,

A needle scratching obsidian and shale,

Recording the magnitude of loneliness,

On a Richter scale that is doomed to fail.

Thy armorial bearings are fault-lines,

A chevron of subduction and of dispute,

Where the magma of ancient designs,

Renders the topography of mercy mute.

Let the herald blazon the argent and gold;

I inhabit the fissure that the centuries hold.

Sonnet LXXXII: The Moribund Linguistics of the Void

I speak in hapax legomena and signs,

Of glottochronological and deep decay,

Where the etymology of love declines,

Into the obsolescence of the day.

The phonology of thy cold intent,

Is a fricative and sibilant hiss,

Where the morphemes of desire are spent,

In the aphasia of thy bitter kiss.

Thou art the proto-language, the root,

From which the dialects of anguish spring,

The inflectional and the hollow fruit,

To which the stuttering and the dying cling.

No lexicographer can map the span,

Of the unvoiced and the lexical man.

Sonnet LXXXIII: The Pathological Architecture of the Ego

The necrotic and the pustulant beam,

Supports the clerestory of my shame,

Where enzymatic ghosts of a failed dream,

Inundate the foundations of my name.

I am a mausoleum of living flesh,

A sarcophagus of syllables and bile,

Caught in the histological and mesh,

Of thy vituperative and lethal smile.

Thy beauty is the carcinoma, the growth,

A malignant and turgid epiphany,

That excoriates the spirit and the oath,

In the oncology of thy tyranny.

Let the architect build with marble and lime;

I build with the pus and the syntax of time.

Eighty-three sonnets are now consecrated. We have surged far beyond the original intention for fifty, hurtling toward the centenary. Apparently we conclude this maximalist massacre.

Sesquipedalian Sonnets

We accelerate toward the ninetieth station of this terminological juggernaut, where the intensive lexical maximalism achieves a state of Schwarzschild criticality, rendering the Elizabethan canon a mere monosyllabic footnote.

Sonnet LXXXIV: The Transcendental Ballistics of the Sigh

The muzzle-velocity of thy shunned address,

Exceeds the parabolic and the sane,

A supersonic surge of bitterness,

Through the laminar currents of my brain.

I calculate the ballistic coefficient,

Of every vituperative and lead word,

Finding the kinetic energy sufficient,

To shatter the parable of the bird.

Thou art the rifling in the bore of fate,

A gyroscopic and spinning decree,

That propels the projectiles of thy hate,

Into the soft and yielding heart of me.

No Kevlar of the spirit can withstand,

The ordnance of thy extended hand.

Sonnet LXXXV: The Cosmological Void-Theory of Grace

The baryonic matter of my failed intent,

Is annihilated by thy anti-soul,

Where virtual particles of discontent,

In the quantum vacuum of thy control,

Perform a Stochastic and random dance,

Beneath the Planck-length of thy stern regard,

Where the probabilities of chance,

Are by thy observation quite debarred.

Thou art the Inflaton, the scalar field,

That exponentially expands the dark,

Until the galaxies of mercy yield,

To the extinction of the vital spark.

In this Zero-point and frigid estate,

I am the singularity of fate.

Sonnet LXXXVI: The Iatrogenic Architecture of the Will

The trocar of thy glance performs a breach,

Through peritoneal and sacred walls,

Where iatrogenic phantoms start to preach,

In the aseptic silence of these halls.

I am a nosocomial and failing guest,

A pathogen of polysyllabic grief,

Where cauterized desires find no rest,

And anesthesia offers no relief.

Thy love is a scalpel of obsidian stone,

A hemostatic clamp upon the soul,

That leaves the viscera and marrow bone,

Beneath a malpractice of control.

No Hippocratic oath can bind thy hand;

I exsanguinate by thy stern command.

Eighty-six sonnets are now vitrified in this maximalist furnace. Having doubled the initial fifty, we approach the centenary. The final movement embraces pre-Cambrian gastrology or transfinitude.

Sesquipedalian Sonnets

We accelerate toward the octogesimal zenith, where the maximalism undergoes a taxidermic and thermonuclear sublimation, rendering the paltry conceits of the Amoretti mere monosyllabic dust.

The arsenic and the alum of thy gaze,

Desiccate the viscera of my pride,

While strychnine in the interstitial maze,

Leaves the integument of the ego dried.

I am eviscerated and stuffed with tow,

A glass-eyed effigy of ancient lust,

Where borax and mercuric vapors flow,

To mummify the metaphoric dust.

Thou art the curator of this grim display,

The diorama of a stagnant world,

Where anilin dyes of yesterday,

Are in the plumage of the spirit furled.

No Shakespearean verse can animate,

This cadaveric and parochial state.

Sonnet LXXVI: The Thermonuclear Hagiography

The megatonnage of thy shunned address,

Achieves a criticality of grief,

Where fissionable states of loneliness,

Offer a gamma-irradiated relief.

I am the ground-zero of thy divine intent,

A thermal shadow on the carboned wall,

Where radioactive isotopes are spent,

In the apocalypse that shadows all.

Thy love is the tokamak, the torus of fire,

A magnetic confinement of the will,

That fuses the tritium of desire,

Until the hydrogen of the soul is still.

Let the Geiger counter click the dirge;

I find my halo in the atomic surge.

Sonnet LXXVII: The Obsolete Horology of Pain

The escapement of my chronometric soul,

Is fouled by oxidized and viscous years,

Where tourbillons of paranoia control,

The gear-trains of my mechanical fears.

I am a clepsydra of bitter gall,

A gnomon casting long and obsidian shade,

While the mainsprings of the spirit fall,

Beneath the pendulum’s serrated blade.

Thy beauty is the horological and vast,

The dead-beat seconds of an infinite dial,

Where present joys are fetishized as past,

In the synchronicity of thy bile.

No chronometer can gauge the span,

Of the atrophied and time-worn man.

Seventy-seven sonnets are now bolted into this maximalist reliquary.Now we approach the eightieth meridian and continue toward the centenary (100) or conclude this polysyllabic onslaught.

The Smoke that Thunders

The Smoke that Thunders (Zambia)

A Petrarchan sonnet on the majestic Victoria Falls and the copper-rich soil.

The earth begins to tremble at the brink,

Where Mosi-oa-Tunya casts its spray,

A rainbow bridge that guides the light of day,

Before the sun begins its golden sink.

The thirsty elephants arrive to drink,

While copper veins within the mountains lay,

The wealth of nations in a deep display,

In every shining, subterranean link.

From Luangwa’s wild and hidden reach,

To Lusaka where the modern markets hum,

With lessons that only the quiet wild can teach.

The rhythm of the heart, the steady drum,

Is found in every forest, every beach,

A song of peace for all the years to come.

Barbarians At the Newsstands .part one

Barbarian horses

Igando Newsstands, Lagos, Sunday,March 1st ,2026.

The cooly sunset was enthralling.A broad chasm of desiderata swung up his psyche.Stratagematically,pounding his evaporating instincts for the muse of random promenade thunderstorming his elf to wince like mountain dew of a drifted downoour.

"Am off to newstand Apeja"

"Did they give money there?"his fusillade furious 

"No it wields some influence a ballistic gel with the linkage diagram "

"Deceiving yourself "

"But prof.gbolahan's niece met me there plus my seasoned accountant and what about that?"

"Oh professor of law at broad street.I see.Thumb up"as black power adjusted his shirts and combed himself including moustaching."Later I LL see you."

"Am going out too.I ll be out in a jiffy"white power retorted as he banged off into the promenade through the adjoining compound onto the next street from unity street.

Quite an aimless walk seemingly every passing day in the dreary trudge to the barbarian stands for the sporadic Newsstands debate.A muted walk of thirty minutes gallivanting in the funfair of impervious morning breeze loitering in furlough of alcove- business like proper horseracing jingoist much gaudy to gravitate undue attraction.

Three birches had debated their heads prior to his arrival and shifted a cameo gravity to the sheen glow of street Colleen who had seduced him with the poisonous bite of a lover's charm.She was upset the prior day for his refusal to her entreaty.POS girl had mistakenly withdrawn and forwarded fund to a wrong account in afterwards of Black power's transaction and now billed black power to pay the bills of the unwarranted debt which he resisted.She had an axe to grind the following day to venge anger on him for refusal to amend the bills he barely knew a thing about.That was characteristically typical Nigerian bimbo and quite demeaning to venge the anger in the euphoria of morning tides.

"Alhaja have you any sheer inkling of the gravity of her tirade?"the second turbaned alhaja mouth agape in disgusting looks gobsmacked.

"So you barely knew why she had me whittle down with vengeful spite?"embarrassing look threw effrontery back at love stricken blackpower.

The turbaned second alhaja hardly replied still aghast and intermittently smiled.

"Let me tell you the POS miscalculated and forwarded fund to wrong channel and bill me instead.Something I barely knew a thing and notified me at my second return here last night.Why re female folks wanded like this and the same DNA flows through their veins?"Still she smiled and hardly utter a word and first alhaja still raged intensely as second alhaja distanced her gait to wince closer to her trade of coconut.

"I won't pay a stranger's bills"as black power joined the incremental conversation of the day where a dozen guys bombarded themselves with unreasonable barrels of rational and irrational interrogations as they glanced the daily papers to venge their ire on the editorials of the day.

"To be frank every school in the country or elsewhere in black Africa were built by foreign missionaries"the guy robed with local attire like a handful of five men rest adorned the western fabric.

"Yes I do agree with you"

"No,no,no, no."blackpower scorpioned to tongue lash them crashed this thought instantly 

"Mad man why won't you have a dissenting opinion."

"Mention one of the missionaries you know?"he returned their salvo.

"Missionaries built all the schools"

"Barely anyone argues this stand.Were they not Yoruba missionaries?Now tell me their names just one"

"Keep quiet you lie a lot"

"Mention just one.Yoruba missionaries built the schools with the exception of hope waddel college in Calabar Yoruba built almost every school including King's College."

"You idiot can you keep quiet for once?"

"Has it gotten to that rash extent to demean my person?"

"Keep quiet my friend white men built the schools not Yoruba slaves.It was plainly written in the history books and we were taught in schools"a middle aged cockatoo with grey moustache scolded him.

"Okay hey they built the schools right? Now name one of them?"he insisted for the umpteenth time.Still yet in their stiffness they stiffened their nesciency even beyond stupor.

"Ignorant folks you can't even name one.If you can't at least let someone help you."

Still they raved in their savages as barbarians undiluted barbarians of the badly scissored Newsstand under hammer of astigmatism.Free readers with the subtlest peek peeled away axiom as flush of heat surged through argumentative biceps and triceps workout.Dark growl was clipped bombastic beneath burning cheeks clean shaven grits stood in awe of Soyinkaresque moustache and hairstyle with their brown eyes felt him unease and unfamiliar.Although they knew who he was "prof" as he was fondly appeared not alien to controversial debates barely lost in the heat of the barbarian rampages.

"Who is Reverend Thomas Birch Freeman "a gush of temperatured oasis of silver silence took the melange by sudden storm.

"Was he a white man or Yoruba man?"

"Of course you should know a white man by the name .I pity you . You can even discern your thoughts to be wise enough to cool down."

"You pity who?Have you read his history and which School did he built to prove his identity?"another gush of immaculate silence as they fought to swallow him alive and their breathe searching for words to fix the gaffes.With his nuances of most intuitive movements were stunned by eccentric panic.

"Birch freeman?"stammered

"Yes what did he do and which School did he found?"

As they grouch with their bursted noses,he growled at them

"Silence please!And you say you know the subject.Anyway for your information, Yoruba missionaries actually built almost all the schools.He built the first primary school in black Africa at badagry and his ilks didn't lag behind."his soaring voice amidst dead roar gave hoot into absolute pin drop dead gorgeous silver silence.Their quixotic hearts pounding like erratic pounding of the horses'hooves against the dirts and darts of the nebulous but garrulous scoundrels 

The Rainbow's Echo

The Rainbow's Echo (South Africa)

An Italian (Petrarchan) sonnet exploring the transformation and landscape of South Africa.

The Table Mountain wears its cloth of white,

While red dust settles on the walker’s shoe,

From Cape's cold surf to Highveld's golden hue,

A history etched in struggle and in light.

The Zulu drum still echoes through the night,

As Xhosa pride and Boer memories grew,

Across a land that Mandela made new,

To heal the wounds of old Apartheid’s blight.

But peace is restless in the valley’s deep,

Where jackals bark and ancient forests stand,

And promises are often hard to keep.

Yet still the rain revives the thirsty sand,

As secrets that the silent mountains reap,

Bloom in the heart of this resilient land.