PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY.SONNET I06.

O sweet vision in its sweet candour beyond compare frightfully frigging home my silvermoon,Now look in thy sweet vision and frisk thy tongue twisting laser beam in thy apologia to pay homage to the oracle of time,And to thy hardihood be crowned with a garland of gallantry,of frigging boats berthing ashore its seabank,and in this esteem thou shalt thy hat earnestly doffs,O sweet vision how glorious thou are,how glorious herald in thy stunning vale,ensconce plays whose pile of funereal shadows,canst not its fringe benefits gainsay,the burning fumes at the burning metropolis,may have gone up in smokes,innumerable times beyond reminicence,And the pinnions of the backward violet may have deepened even its hollow track,salvation earth trigger might not be dismayed when sweet vision,with thy forward violets at the pallor streets sings,O sweet vision is not sweet when not mated with gallantry,tis gallantry with the bonquet of flowers be plaqued as triumphant as jubillant as the old sleigh bells,in its roll of honour

NIGH THEE - NIGH THEE. Part 2

about thy becoming's nuggets,much more about thy flying wings,and all about thy darts 'gainst the walls of hostilities,So much about thy fortitude,What magic tricks and sleight of hands do you require that nigh thee,within thee didst abhor? Wake up you shabby,sleazy sleepy head and be not slewed at the slope,beneath this slice of life. That bliss smacks above the slough of despond,when innermost within thee submerged,a spanking spew of'nigh thee's bespoke spigot,for all men will kiss their verdict by their own hands,Look not for help,in alien lands and help therein you cannot get,They jest with posterity when they these entreaties galore,they make,godforsaken they bleed and then when obscene guerdon spanks,stand in stupor googleeyed,to spot them vile,slothful sport,strengthless birds blotting the sky,Each leaning on thy innermost worth much more than a lifetime of hellish struggles, See how the friction runs wide even so alarming amidst the literatis andsomeday we might all be nihilists,martyrs of'nigh thee

NIGH THEE - NIGH THEE Part one

Nigh thee as nigh thee immutable as the morning sun,would in thy womb,eternity drunk with thy nectar,there is neither night nor morning,neither yesterday nor today to be whisked into posterity, Now is eternity and forever eternity and nigh thee not farthest plunged from thee.Nigh thee - as soon as nigh thee flows that streams as the gushing winds,across vale and hill,lakes and aridland,Down within thee as golden crest,All dainties sweet beyond compare,one pearls too many and another golden nuggets,too nigh thee,right there in thy backyard,sancrosanct within thee,not far away,There is a sacred vale,in which thou must headlong fall,And a headlong fall affords thee a headstrong pluck of thy golden nuggets,Long thereafter,thy sinuous fall amidst the siroccos on the sands of sahara,shall with thee be aprised of the sinecur'd sinequanon of thy golden nuggets' pluck,And thou shall be judged of every pluck and its use,shall now with it be distilled aboard;So palatable about golden fleece's trajectory,So auspicious

A NARCISSUS LOVER.PART 7

at the abode and utterances vile,and turning the heat on himself. Sometimes,he slept rough over her mendacity and the roughness of the roughhouse could not curtail them and hence broke the knot asunder.Deceit springs from deceit,nebula breedeth nebula,and where beauty breedeth rashness and ugliness from abuse of gaudying spring over slothful tongue,a nation perishes,and chaos as immanent racio decidendi,may not survive the broken hearted. What clue does this salient salaam portends from the empiricus of this salad days,that thou mayest rationally,a verdict pluck.What obscenity salable from this saloon of hallucination! And yet withhold her lips from this sacred knight of old! No ten mendacities abridge as one verity,nor one long as twenty to sanctify satellites of sacrilege! Being so saturnine,did smother herself with this satirical kisses,scallop'd in scalding hot to scallywag the city square,the scapegoat scalps'tenderbud upon holloipoloi spring from this tempting lips,What scarlet women,what broken homes!

A NARCISSUS LOVER.PART 6

'Waow,travelling in a single mother 's country?' 'yet just a rite for a lass!' 'A lass!' 'Yea.' stonecold he as she laughed hysterically,with risibility fallen down on canvass. 'That shouldest think me heavy for thee where narcissus so froth a salvo myself forsake,Still facial rococo earnestly rivet greedily,flung over this toasting of a roaring trade,how quickly fast apaced thou set this ball rolling and this frollic heart's adore rollick'd thee on the roll of honour and a plaque for thy bravery.Oh,i ve not been rooked.' His detest of laborious lass was instantaneous. At that blooming roseate of the evening sky,his rotund gait headed home,for the roost and muttered on his bed.His plainant was roused by erstwhile spouse's rooks who sequel to their nuptial knot,rode him down roughshod and withheld this knight of old,wherein she above belched so easily and tribulated by its memoirs,barely shown remorse.And so at noontide,this virago did make a comeback and to her consternation,there was rough and tumble

A NARCISSUS LOVER Part 5

Nor would i read thy riot act to still dance barefooted on the appalling sand of mudslinging banks,with such uncommon riparian rights that ripped along with greater ferocity than the pugilistic ring of thy penultimate twains,' ' Bid yourself upon this ringseat to be so enchanted,by divorcee or like a fairy tale heard upon thy navel of wishful thinking,or like a desperado with the rusty and long dishevelled thoughts to run amok its sturdy train.Taste is a stale of all graffitis,of the vilest knight of old,tis the gospel not so gnash,ripen and gross to pluck and reap but the ringside seat where the masculine twains are halfpenny,though ritzily broached rivened,will i not thee send down to the region to beware of roadsense and unravel this gospel?

A NARCISSUS LOVER.PART 4

Nuking this neurosis with the girth of its necromancy,ossifying battered chins with the ounces of its osmosis,sometimes it charms the sunset or the sunset or midway gallivant of the twains,And then like the mastery of a pastime,a pastel of a clopp'd psycho-pasty morphology,leaving him a prisoner of love,in that penumbra of peptalks.Not pent up pennyworth but perforce not pennypinch'd,wherein his virtuous peregrination eschewed,yet was she perforating to his performing arts of peremptory gybes.'Thou canst not see that ravaging venom in my eyes,mine feet are sparkling roadhogs,ready for highway love,whereon mine quartz of love like every twain,turns its frolics into rhapsody,My tiptoeing grandeur being its wings,doth grandly inflexible,mubh rigid like a riffleman firing his riffle,o how fast that riffle is running and doth not bicker my velvet but still burning fremescent bonemarrow,nevertheless thy slanging matches,still not impatient,in thy assymetry,would in thy riot not me rinse down nor would i read the

A NARCISSUS LOVER Part 3

' Why art thou shameless pout?''I have been booed as thou art booed me,though i have wooed and never being wooed,as beffitting of machismo winces.Even so narcissus so thy trigger,by thou thy virago,of a thousand direful goddess of narks,canst not placate,whose sinew,lord of filthy lucres,in its lutarious sands never did absolve,who flirts in every guille,where she quids in every naivety of an epicurean lucre nail biting escapades,Yet hath she been that captive never freed from its wretched blanket of guillotine. And implored her for that which she cannot give,Over this frosty bank,she barely fret and then hardly as navelgazers pleads her ass.He for a morous bank and she a lucre-glot,quivers for lucre,wherein his vouchsaf'd spectre flounders,to once again hung in aloft of a resillient rose.And being flung above this whisk of nambypambi'd necropolis,hath learned to flex at the eleveth hour,over this hanging neurosis and and nerd of amorous necromancy.To sport,to jocose,to funfare andjocund of this amorous bank

A NARCISSUS LOVER Part two

making her cheeks a jocose voluptuary in every jar;And with a rollicking of a teasing fondle,momentously plays this rapturous chess.Upon this mollycoddle,did he her morose cheeks morph like a motley'd morphology.Who being mucky-mucous ducks beyond gripes,as affable rubbicon trigger'd her gravity.So offers he love her,what she herself as weaker sex cannot offer nor fret; But when his intemperate crest and buffers were brisky for commodious wittiness,nor apt to throw in the towel;But his mucillage of the pleadings and statuette of moreish adhesives,cavorting before her,turns his otherwise bungle into mulch.Never did a mudslinging in a lover's dishevelled muddy abbyss plunge,more muff for stale than she flexes for this cirumference of amorous fondle;Her love she cannot see but wrath she can get.He loiters in these muffles,yet her boggy swamp of muddlingings,perpetually mug.'O shameless he-goat' gan he muckily nambypambi'd,she did volley,murks! Tis but a mudslinging stigmatises,still she slaughters contumacity.

A NARCISSUS LOVER. Part one

Mascotly,he pounces on a rudder like a callow.Capitulatedly,would perambulate to overflow the Orchard with green apples.And then being exasperated,retreat to the summerhouse.There,he blissfully switched on the ignition of a ruffle on a laborious lass,with herself at recess,wheezing like a grampus.Still,he masquerades masochism as mere machismo and prettily still a martinet-truant;for to a tensed masonry,she hardly marshals the intemperate with her bogus martial arts.Still is he masculine,still is he mercurial wanton,to merit her mercantile mete.Twixt a middlebrow,still a middened midget,yet better still a middleoftheroad middling.Being milchcow,she loves him milched and sometimes he two steps before her flattery.Starry morn grippled their varicose veins with vista durress and by that misbegotten miscreance,she salivates from his bossom of soft endear,never to drown the misalliance,till he takes miscible with herself,being her missiled mint.Which placid and lutarious frequencies,have modcon'd,making hercheeks

A NARCISSUS LOVER Part One

Mascotly,he pounces on a rudder like a callow.Capitulatedly,will perambulate to overflow the orchard with the green apples.And being exasperated,retreat from the excruciating toil,to the summerhouse.There he switched on his ignition of a ruffle on a laborious lass,with herself at recess,wheezing like a grampus.Still being knackered in her relief,he masquerades his machismo,and prettily still his martinet steel noosed,for to a mashy stonework,she hardly marshals her martial arts,at this mashy pelt.Twixt a middlebrow,still a middened midget,yet better still a middle-of-the-road middling.Being milchcow,she loves him milched and sometimes he before her rig.Starry how mimesis can minion thee,she that mimesis she cannot abhor.And by that scalpel of misbegotten miscreance,she salivates from his soft endear,never to drown this misalliance,till he takes miscible with her missiled mint.Which placid have modcon'd,making her cheeks a jocose epicure in every jar;And with a teasing fondle momentously plays this rapturous

BREATHTAKING-MOTHERWIT

Breathtaking-unbowed chins,supporific flames,a passing streams,A spot gangrened grey tumour,from the seasons' engrossed crucifix,batterring through the darkest clouds, Pensive have i not motheaten,pensive have i not motheaten, Thoughts that outgrow days,days that outgrow thoughts and the gulf like eternity,my pensive mind breathtaking.

THE BALLAD OF ABRAHAM'S SONNET-PART THREE

I aggree."thus with gallantry smilling,he alluded to get rich quick syndrome and the oracle was sealed. His bravado,threw up his fellow friend a Yoruba,who took him down to the herbalist,off his balance,and at some point,interrogated him," Emeka,you were so rash to exchange your life for vanishing wealth.That was too harsh.Dont you think so?"he bombarded him in suspense," My friend,that misery or penury exceed,what i could bear.Let money come,i will find my way and my children would enjoy."he noted with satisfaction.Almost three years Emeka was so rich and had erected eight two stories buildings. He was bounteous with him and showered him with eleemasynery including medicineman.He was fond of countingthe time and seasons,even prior to the death.Intergrity dies,when misery or penury batters the living dead jonesses,Oh we were so lucky when we neplusulstra dances at our ensconce,my brother regains its intergrity,abstemious wight no more sunken,though my sister's frequent adamantine,abide still the darkest hours

THE BALLAD OF ABRAHAM'S SONNET.Part 2

He eats like a gourmet in this darkest hours and with stinking fondle of this art,he did fondle,none stale in his mouth and tummy,Then heypresto,with this juxtaposition,if we contrast,i marvelled at the fallacies of intergrity,in a trying times,By the hood that howling wilderness,without gallantry hurts hence greedily,How come a benign personage looses it and then availeth much less,an etiquette wight,Were this rot in him not exhumed a pussillanimous winces to his pouted misery?Not unlike my brother's clownish sameness pigeonholed and embittered,kicked his hoofs intandem,Intergrity vanishes for those disgruntled elements who have it but battered in times of misery,My elder-sage,my prime racconteur,Baba kwara narrated so touching a tale that i was emboldened to enthuse same about vanity of intergrity,Misery let him down into the world of rituals,at the expense of his,for want of riches,for his progenies,"You will be rich but you live three years and death shall come. Do we aggree?"says the medicine " Yes Sir,

SOUND WAVES Part two

eternity wine presses.See,how we work and we sweat,how we sweat,when we are tired,and how we rest when we are tired,And how tired are we,when we fail to rest, when the waves'tender curls,my intricate hewn carresses,exhaustion flies out of the door,Refreshing,reinvigorating,an art but nature's dose and benediction,wouldnt have been possible without its surgical or caesarean section,recuperating mortal gaunt,What a beautiful dose that nature freely gives with no condition whatsoever,Blowing in reason of the season of the season and out of the season,rampagingthe cosmos,alongside the nature's spirit,waves,blast ofthe wind,sole energy of ontologytitivates them all,The windstorm will not unleash its arts,be itwindswept,windstorm,windward,windtunnel or windiness flexes,without itswinnow of the seasons and battering of windy winepresses agogat the winsome windy-yard,all presses,tilt at its windmills,be it windfall or windgauges,orwindbreak winching at the windy yard,See,sole energy of ontologyflexes at the windyyard

SOUND WAVES- Part one

The sound of the waves was sacred and apalled me on my bed at my low tide,when it began,My intricate hewn carressed by its breeze,fleeting through the windowpane could not alight to evacuate rainwaters fallen from the roofs,for domestic cores,The waves were sacred much more sacred than our gospels and mysticism are,The spring of the ocean resting at the seashore,symphony of the waves like the music of a minstrel and soundwaves of a jazz band,Never heard such a thing before?The soundwaves blast from the serenity of the night,from the serenity of the gulf,The waves blowing at my ensconce,so soft a tender curls,carressing my trembling pawn,i tried in vain to alight and unravel its byzanthinous root,O root of the waves,so sacred,the breath of nature,sole charm of mothernature,strenuous as i tried,i could not decipher,yet mystique blanketing waves of the mind and spirit exceedeth and much mysterious,And lo,blown away my intricate hewn,somnabulist of the night,walking in his sleep,This stronger waves licked........

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY.SONNET-105

Each gauchy cloud cleared in its time,yet for a greater sail supplanted when the clarity is beamed aforth,And nothing i repeat nothing ever changes providence like time,time and patience my greatest warlords,Will thy image not my heavy eyelids battering rams of burden not feel me in?In hope that we might scale distant hills not aversed when even home far away from the forest is safer either,and all entreaties for halcyon days faraway from the marauders'nest fall on deaf ears and hazy feet not derided and ashamed to prowl the misty but forlorn roads,For like thee the watchman watches not,i whilst thou dost repel elsewhere scatterbrains too numb still and be it faraway and nigh all sapiens by etiquette and semblance immutable,To play nightwatchman gladiators,clumped in misty cloud intoto stampede,Yet distant land's silvermoon greedily and vacuously,they in vile fret in vain as if wishes were horses,that beggars might ride.

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY: SONNET-104

Will the pebbled shores make wand towards waves or in reverse? Otherwise,so do the birds of passage frisk away livery rapturous to the end,And every tacit transit doth inscrutable fret illimitable,Still In the clamour of toil,doth a vacuous bone contend,The vanishing shadows that ere generation in chaos and infecundity ambiguously contest,regiment once in the briddle of lightning,fiends to distand lands unknown,canst not salve,Where with being silvermoon appogee's boon doth not this contend,Etchinated feet,a glory of transfix'd gaiety,time cannot deny, And still that gave him glamour doth providence barely contend them,time doth silvermoon contest not when flourish is set,to spring it forth,to jewels on laborious soil,worth its salts,Fructiferous heels feed on the rarities of such curios,And nothing ever abide forever,except if it be a ficlkle or a mere fragrance of its old change, And yet to times ever changing prowess,that distand lands,distilled by heavenly moistures,are despatched .

THE BALLAD OF ABRAHAM's SONNET.PART ONE

Abraham was sunken delight,His family was sunken delight too.And his tripple siblings and he not left behind were ravens,excluding his trencherman's little horses,an abstemious sister and brother,"I am not greedy for food,i am not thirsty for water,"so she says but well kept,so he says too but not well kept, Make hovers hear the gouges in his stomach fly,As if contented,may not be satisfied,inconspicuous,ruinate this gesture broadly,but his brisk i kept vigil,Pretense like a coat now drenched with mist barely abscond,Here is a paradox where trenchermen and gourmands flex for brawns,blinking through the furnace,avarice thrives,with grins entrapped beneath a corrosive,Oh my brother may have made this pretence like the good trencherman that he was,an aloft of a day's hunger,not forsaken rebound threw up the avarice in his coat,And back to gourmet like we threesome,fret his tummy,Neither sated Abraham's gripe nor the acerbic binges and ravenous guttural heaves him a sigh of relief from this trademark addiction.

TRANSITION

Brethren,transition,discipleship,husbandry,peripatetic. Your perpetual horse,perspiration clockwise and trojan horses above the jugular.From the golden pearls of youth,epic of the golden morn rises. In that dim style,have i grasped the nettle with the ambiguous shadows. And awry balls not paused but forever nethered. Now turns to no stale as to revert back into the dim.Of obverse of the fiendish obviate and dead throe seabank.And in this obstrusion averted,memory keeps your hope,for nothing like success without mental alertness and preparedness.

HEIRLOOM

"Why are those heirlooms in your vet,o my legatees?How obscene and fine kettle of nemcon to thee obscure this golden nuggets for utter chaos?"O mortgaged posterity balloons the face in the blue sky,Is that why this patchwork so condescending calls thee a goon because it pillaged what smears with sears?O hone!what virtus would elope with the winds because they irretrievably,lost in memoirs?Take not your heirloom through the ragged cloud to elope,my beloved guttersnipes,O hone!what then would you have done when your patrimony by glory thrust upon them who love misty eyes?O hone thy aloft above the caisson and be profiteth greatly from the heirloom of your spirit to avert this fritter banks.

DARKEST HOURS - BRIGHTEST RAYS. PART TWO

And the brightest rays of this golden bough were lifted from the gathering clouds and darkest hours vanished,And saith he out of the ordinary"Golden bough's transit now silvermoon dantiest plucks!"To whom,the folks contrariwise barely objects"We clamour beyond St.blue Queer Street,and now this stolid earth,this blue sky beneath us"But then he says to the pinkiest,"who are you now?"Then this jejuned,oldfoggy oldmaid irrefutably and propitiously juxtaposed himself,"the sordid waves too behind me as we roll and roll for the mutation of the grandest dreams,blinking away darkest hours and bountiful showers avalanche,o brightest ray this stupendious allure,ages implore to decipher thee."

DARKEST HOURS - BRIGHTEST RAYS. PART ONE

Guttersnipes,street urchins who live the despondent hapless moths by the sloughs of the trough,call for a noose,a placebo and a thrust from the edge of the precipice, What a succour from being beaten blue all day and weary by the sun, "With no gazebo and no summerhouse appealing in sight to hide and ease this stress of distress,"a brokenhearted lamented"brightest rays might soon abscond forever from these darkest hours."We crave for silvermoon from this bickering strands of golden bough",Then i observed how come tarnishing troughs were tergivesated and mutated into golden trough.if not for proactive engross of the bald pate,sunken delights may have in this treacherous numb,downright infeasible without pragmatic foolproof of the golden bough's glacebo.This comics amidst a gathering,then the flocks enthused"But how shall we abscond the tarnishing trough without the gazebos of the golden bough.We in this bedevil,flex the last bout of the tarnishing bough to exit the treachery of this howling wilderness."

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY-SONNET:103

To every glory not all able spirit can afford,Where victors in silence belch the more for silence boast of temperate beyond this obscurity, When your countenance lack'd matter that enfeebled myth,What farewell art thou too obsessed and disposessed of entitlement,The charter of adophobia gives thee a banished lent,an unrelenting servitude and with a brassy claws indeterminate,So thy silvermoon upon being a state misconstrued gavest its growth,On verdict transplanted on lugubrious earth,at pebbled shores,not fairly acquinted with double vantage,let alone a vantage and a vantage press,such is enticement and a briddle to which briddle,i briddle for long,Saith that thou didst forsake these golden verses in years to comn as to abhor them,And i will speak foul of thy vain trips and erosion of gallantry,over the beloved with no nomenclature whatsoever,And every chant hath its downwind extant humour,whereon it findeth an inquisition,above the gregarious summation for an evidence,But this metrics hardly easy findeth.

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY-SONNET:102

To clues within thine euphoria of undying and nnwhack'd gusto,Were all cannibalistic cadavers and assymetrical noose,How much more karma's convened thy breach's penalty,If thou couldst brazenly muse' this golden petals of golden roses shall speedily sombre my gnash and arraigns silvermoon,Bewailing its asseverating otherwise by its beguile!This were to be betternoire when thou at thy branded apologia summons,And witness thy irascible perspiration,when thou by ignoble restraint of time fool'st groove at thybabblest cheeks beneath,Where unruly chins in their funnyhaha,hanker brawn,in it be bloodi'd,Findingthy retreat of ample resortwhere you did valliantly,And thereforedreadful art not pacify butmomentum aggression seeks anew,And do so not defying the strained torches when deus'd can unwind,In gross painting through braziered brawn,tender guile not unset,in this poetic brasstacks,inthose impairs doth impute being dumb,That eulogy be sopoured when epochal stones of golden roses so dignifies checkered antecedence.MAYA ANGELOU

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY-SONNET:102

To clues within thine euphoria of undying and nnwhack'd gusto,Were all cannibalistic cadavers and assymetrical noose,How much more karma's convened thy breach's penalty,If thou couldst brazenly muse' this golden petals of golden roses shall speedily sombre my gnash and arraigns silvermoon,Bewailing its asseverating otherwise by its beguile!This were to be betternoire when thou at thy branded apologia summons,And witness thy irascible perspiration,when thou by ignoble restraint of time fool'st groove at thy babblest cheeks beneath,Where unruly chins in their funnyhaha,hanker brawn,in it be bloodi'd,Findingthy retreat of ample resortwhere you did valliantly,And therefore dreadful art not pacify butmomentum aggression seeks anew,And do so not defying the strained torches when deus'd can unwind,In gross painting through braziered brawn,tender guile not unset,in this poetic brasstacks,inthose impairs doth not being dumb,That eulogy be so poured when epochal stones of golden roses so dignifies checkered antecedence

Proffessor Abraham Sonnets' Diary- Sonnet-101

If from the fairest creatures we desire increase and heavenly moistures,shall we not also from the vilest creatures desire retrogression and hell?Still did we not desire hell awry spurn machiavell never to die,that thereby maledictive vices might never frolic die to play,But as the sheep at the abbattoir butcher'd his haggard frame might never vaunt this renminiscencs;but thou retribution to thine own hazy eyes,feedest now thy lilliputian but languid frame,with self esteem not leadean'd thy bough,making a blunt and a blandest ogre where the blandest amplitude lies'When all seasons shall beneath besiege thy clumsy steps,And wrestle limbo,trenchwarfare or a dunghill in thy plot,what limbo's gravity,in this field 's amplitude acrimoniuous acuity so sterned now,will be thy allegoried heels of thy piffled cloven hoofs confered,than being famished where all thy beggarly dotes,where all the billly os of thy brazen feet chok'd .

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY -SONNET 30

O hardihood,may my silos and vats overflow with thy treasure troves and wine,Why would they nag in their wilderness,another adonis own soiddissant fleece,whose bossom is not endear'd to them by heart?And sometime weep foul of the long lost fortune since forlorn palter,for palmy days abode to paper over the cracks.Now, adophobia by its prejudicial panorama,panopli'd at hazy storm their panjandrum,Moan not empiricism when thou embark thy plangent plantation,on tortuous journey,so plaguey still canst not brawn,Tis thougrievances,presences of absences grieve greedily fornlorn sail as forgone raid,Is hardihood so priceless,a plaything that thou mayest not itch at its yonder hills' opalescence and glory?Of the nearest and dearest gladiators,not say a dicky bird,even with voice like a foghorn,at the riverbank,relish assays to yonder shores,The posture of ladylike behind their ladyship,languour and lacuna,not for once lament'd,But behold with pedagogue,trumping minnows,hardihood can salivate and leapfrog thee.

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY-SONNETS 29

My latch shall not me flex to jettisson,So long as bibliocrazy and those its kindred in my bossom lay and date,Butthen in thee sevile,time's frivolities i abhor,Then gaze i in quietus,its lusty vertex should deplete,For all that aesthetics,that dost thee huggermugger,hue and cry,Is but a huffily huff of adophobia,overtly and covertly pronounc'd,Which in thy fathom,doth abide as mine erstwhilegroove;How can i then be overzealous,than these howls of howling wilderness,like that mammoththat throngs on hungermarch,I therefore admonish, adophobiac be of thyself,thy hovel so wary,Gliding in windy sail which i willbedesecrable nor in my bossom lies,As atender bud,my hollow bearing from overbearing mirth,far'd not headlong,Presume not on thy howlings,when mine fowling piece unlike thy blunderbuss andbarneys,tearjerker'd,whereas preys galore,migratory birds shot i they beneath,She gavest her whole bag of tricks at their apotheosis,O hardihood thou gavest thyself to that appoged my vertex,and all treasures trove mine

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY- SONNET-28

That mug's game,fully known too well to be antiquat'd,And lo! the muddlehead'd mugwump in that trailblazer of lifelong trenches hibernates,O sinecure thou art no good o sinecure,They palpitate,still throng still palpitate,In detest of flying colours whereon the wobbling feet by sinecure plies,But since they prickly with windy verdict,That stampede,that for a force majeure,as an fait accompli,a tenthfoot pole pingpong plays,Mine own keystone beyond this masquerade flagellates,To kibbosh this vulgar trudge of valeditudinarians,and of misfire,And the kidgloves'ranting of the loung lizards,So is it that heaven's moisture flees,Who laser itself for emboss and bespokes doth latch, And every unfair roses,who trods landmines,with its foulplays,doth this lassitude and rehearse still bickers,To what thou art given thyself as slave,to that prissy,lay a squandarer,thy heirloom sticks greedily.

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY- SONNET 27

Winces.A wight's winces with naturewit's own cleavages of pendulous pleas,Mine being incongruous with that wit's end,And loop with the sinecure,whereon to shun the streets,where the lion trods,Hast thouthe lucky dip mastery of my malinger,o that adophobiac wraith!A shrinking violets'sheepish clothing,Who lives in the fig of imagination,Rather than the headlong saddle prowl plunges,To bring home the bacon right the lion's den,With the unsteadi'd pendulum worn as robe as is falsity of a filial-like-piety,Basking infalse pretences,with adophobia much more bloody than its rolling moss,Will that riffl'd barrel be shot,with its machinegun nest?Oh no,a riffle varnish'd by adophobia,canst no go beyond its rifflerange and trigger naive of riffleshot,let alone a trajectory above the rift valley,Be in dexterity or in ropey plain,that mortifying rosebud of an adophobiac,cannot by transmogrify endears,And then mountainbank,muggins take solace beneath rift valley,To loop for a relief to the golden fleece,that mug's game...

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY- SONNET-26

O that you were briskier,not to sow on badlands,to kick up a shindy,with mushrooming dividend, A babel in backwaters,that barely reproof to bring home the bacon,Beyond sweet compare shouldst not like a bagatelle flimsy badger nor its bailliwick ballyhoo'd, And your barracks,barage and barney's subconscious bask,baubl'd with bated breath,So should that thy beachcomber,which you fret in vain,Belicose under siege that you werebestir'd alongside its vulgar path of the vulgarians,Yourself betide bickers,billious binges,with blackmagic that dost theblackguards as the dickens,blanch'd,When blighters' pout,your blimey's expectant shouldst crease,Who let so much pang of mischiefs in the air,Which stormy winds beyond consort,not bleeding that maketh a mockery of its ballyhoos,In castrate of this blindspot,that so greedily cringest, O nothing but the thrifts from this blindfold of blindman's buff,be told and not blithe,What bogstandard and that meanness can not persuade a bolthole to him salvage,O you had not a moult.

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY-SONNET 25

As fast as thou shalt go,sofast thou growest esquely plow,When i do lustre the blue funk that hoodoos the bounties of time,And melts and erodes the palmy days projectile instinct,mir'd in starry night engravure,When in i behold the shrinking violets'holocaust of hoohas and bilous hoopla,not past its sullen prime,And tender'st churls all sinew'd over mirth of mortal heels;When lofty trees,in the forest of blue funk,i benign not,hoop'd and hoodd'd withdeciduous trees, Which ersatz fromappalling did its tentacle,canopy suffuse,And summer's greenand evergreen fields defi'd,in theirturgid colours of rainbow,went up in smoke,Borne on a caisson and oasis hanging with pulsating hilly beans,and briskier escapade so naive to sofrosty in the jungleof vicious eremite of escutcheon'd ergs,Then of thy moult do i froward lather,That thou among the prodigals of time,might tentatively persist, Since vices upon vicesmusculatur'd by vices in bucaneerof farago of vices do themselves not forsaken,then contend'st speak nothingness

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS DIARY-SONNET 24

Not A Valedictory To Moult.Unlock'd the diet,unlessthou at a tangled knot tangential,get a moult,For Funkyfrith thou bear'st saliva and marrowto douse its storm,Who for thyselfpays greedily art so string'd to boomtown,not amply leverag'd,Unleash thy art,if thou wilt,for thou art more ambidextrous than the throng's headlong saddle crumple to condescence tis folly of this tarnishing stigma,But that thou so alabaster purblind,that none moult is necessity,Having been purloined by this byzanthinous monster, That'gainst thyself moult as moult bold'st ride and ridicul'd,Valeditory bode that contemptuous roof thatch'd,still bash'd to crumble,Which to blushing sands of renege,shouldst be the emblem of lutarious lusty vertex,O funky frith,no blue funk thy blue funk,that in the flight of rash ego,i may fortune still my blinding kismet,Shalt beingunfairer,ramshakled with bad graces,than a good sailor,Maketh thee halt in disrepute,for the time's impetuous blue funk rigmarole is no excuse,to fortune,for crave of hardihood

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY-SONNET 23

Apocalypse.To be blue funk,cock crow's conquest,that maketh a norm of the living earnmorning sail and triumphant hills far away refrain,Lo! in the cosmopolitan junkets,when gracious palms alight with its booverboots,Burning under wiseacr'd physiogonomy,not creas'd,Doth homage paysto the seer of the apocalypse,Notgrand amputee of the apocalypse,that karma bone's infection canst not salve,O timely apocalypse saveth thee adophobia,the cleft of time's fury and the intergrity of time, Of the fainthearted simpletons,servile in their inglorious majesty,Melifluous cymbals dainty tohear and harmony to dance its tympanum balls,And owlish eyes withits goblet,not motheaten,clamouring triumphant hills,Plays the apalling chess into thy salvation trottle,Let it be shown thee its shovels with the wreckages of times in its adorn, Like contagious eyes,they frittered away,tentacles of glorious herald,Its hideous pilgrimage the fainthearted loungelizard,indifferent to vanishing point plows,Let in apocalypse of the old greybeard

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY-SONNET 22

Moult Thy Cross.Then let not contagion's rugged but pennorth gangrene,deflower'd even its hilly beans,In thee thy windy storm,ere thou be distill'd,Make thee beyond sweet compare;whose treasure some bibliocractic throng flocking,With ken's treasure;ere it be still self-sequestrat'd,That inferential inference for the fatuous infantrymen and the lay is a profound treasure trove,Not forlorn usury,which amortis'd usury with which darts forth fire of shrinking violet's wraith is dous'd;That's for thy hood to infiltrate its itsybitsy,Or a worse hit wieldier,be it itchy feet in trenches, If brash tide of an aggravated case scenario reconfigure thee,Then what could that apparition do,if thou shouldst not moult,draining thee pinkish and thee bland and stolid in karma?Be now,self distilled from fractional to acatalectic,for thou an art as ass,far too unfair,To be foible's damnable relics and maketh thee a noxious jetty for a jettison,Then moult thy cross,let not advantage slip.

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY-SONNET 21

Sacred Homiletics.Those homiletics that with genteel work of art,did by time sculpture,The abiding forest where every adherent doth adhere,Will play moult to this burning gales of achilleels heels browbeated censure,And that unfair roses,in the unfairest wedge of rudderless shore,which unfairly doth primrose bank,For never a wasting venom,so leads to its gangrene,To vicious dusk and confines infections there,Sag checker'd with undrawn pedagogue and pebbles of its pedantic cobwebs gone quite vacuous,Viles overshadow'd brink and inestinguishable ubiquitous:Then were not every artistic distillery gone vapid,facile and factitious,A contagious element,inextricable,in the metropolis of gregarious flocks, Contagion's impulse,with effect as embankment were encumbered,Nor it quarrantined,nor it sequestrate its presumptious volleys what they were,But a handful of gather'd flowers,distilled though with winds blow,Lease but their arts: still blands beyond compare.

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY-SONNET-20

Dread For Dread.Is it for dread to dread the windy dread,that dread for dread,mightest thyself dread dread for dreadin a pouted dread verily dread?In boloneys,if thou be clueless,shalt harp to slave and then die,The cosmos then will they their passion clamourtrigger'd,O how vile is time o howtime is vile,where as guille theplanet will thy detest joyous sings,That which none boon melody and her filthy lucre,mightest they sing thee to titivate public ovation;when compared to the arbiter's lyrics of gilded league and gnomes'purple birthrendition?When every dread flight,widow'd thy jingo frame,May salivate nescient ego,even without its concord,Be not waned with this medley of homiletics andepistle,even on the eve of thy long moth eaten sullen transmogrify,Be as thy presence be,know thyself and dread for dread by lease of arts,shall no flight be,thou mayest as a bibliomaniac,with bibliocrazy feedeth thy blank psycho,when thou from this folly greedily convertest,If all were so steel minded,then time's fury ceases

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY-SONNET 19

Of mischief,of mischance,of karma and of machiavellian primrose,Of that bromide,which doth barely by oft a prognosticate,toconjecture vain winds in hell unknown and heavenward farthest shore find,If from thyself thyself marrooned writ thou wouldst not covet to convert,Otherwise thee in purblind perpetually shorn,Yet callus'd hands intemperate,in this grail benight'd refrain avaunt,Tis gaunts and crocks in their beguilling sap,at hellish dunghill blustery crispy,To gavel palmy days with a Abel's pot of porridge,for a lifelong wheelchair of casuistry,of wobblingfeet astrayed in trenches with its captive audience,Muchfrostier than a surfeit counterfeit of arts,its twin brother,Who will then be versifi'd in its poetry lines and lo,sequestrate its huts from this vast hordes of shrinking violets?If the sickos,an anthropomorphic city square,were made bland with the nebulous dreamland of yonderhills,tarnish'd with most dread'd memoirs in sight,then six of the best strokes bevelling its predated shall dunghills be

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY-SONNET 18

That so much glistening bravura and gallivanting hoofs of treacherous traipses ahead,Which ushers in a gemstoned procession,a truest colours of time's rainbows,That ambly ambit of palmy days in the brew,be not hideous night that brassmonkey'd starry morn,Then of brawny gallivants and brevity of birds of passage,do i not witha bargepole interrogates?O thatyou were time's slavish ado,but bristly you are pugnacious of itsflurry and fang of fugacious fugacity,Not bat an factious eyelids,being so facile to fritter flurry whereon all mortals beneath time's paroxysm calf,creases,and thereafter quietus impounds,Trumped with this ignition of ignition key,so sound shall the lease of time's use, optimal reckons and beckons of every passing wind,Who lets so forth in fairness its bridgehead and not rot to decay with time,O not you had a chaste,let not your winces say otherwise,And not from the morsels of time,do i my instinct pluck,But from the mishance it grooves,it is this misshap its riotous bestows in its windy sails

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY- SONNET-17

As fast as thou shalt dread,so fast in the pits,thou cringest,In weariness,weary tides thineself weari'd from that which thou squeaky clean pulses,And that whole bag of tricks,that necklaced bah,which so cuddingly bestowest,Thou mayest not wield the bigsticks with brassy bowls of bigotry,when thou thy transmogrify earnestly craves,Herein hibernates to unleash willpower of benign naturewit,Without this stupor of blockheadedness and ill-wind blustery,not a rot of a bolshi'd bloke endears,Let thosewhose naturewit hath not roses rapin'd,for bollocks and booverboots,Brash tide but brassy,notof intemperate bravado,rashness and a feckless decrepit sedulous palms, Which bounteous bravura with eleemosyneries,thou shouldst not bounty reap,let alone sow,guerdon of a priceless hardihood,Andthen impromptu cadence,carve thee a niche that thou mayest to it stuck be,But still counts as the clock,not to let down avaunt tothine girdle clicks, Even still in the stable,endanger'd species,birth and breeding blushes not its brawns

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY-SONNET 16

Look in thy dread and utter thou censure to its visage slander'st, Now is the desideratum that time to the froward not mend;Whose salient hardcore if now thou not knowest hardihood plays its chess, Thou dost then renewest smartness unless some smother perpetuates,For where is hardihood so unfairest trudge,whose heathen'd womb,perseverance desecrates,Pointless the pofaced of the wranglings,Or is he bereft of hardihood,will he barndoor hit,hardcurrency buys,Of pastyfaced pat and reviles,where violet repudiates to numb thy barndoor?That thou art thy subservient slave cringes and slaves'wraith in thee succumb,So thou through saga of salad days thine senile shall see,Time is no time,when not reviled,tis time is no time's fool when beneath it be not ridiculed and plaudits poured, Within sphere of unthrifty holliness abound,where hardihood is a damn deadweight fugitive and saddlesore like an alumni on the rusticate,So vilous art palmydays vamoosed its esplanade of hideous winter as all seasons,So Vilous awindysail

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY-SONNET 15.

When shrinking violets'locusts and holocaust thereafter shall besiege this plow, And horror-dunghill entrapped in thy burrowing fields, Thy speculative's spineless embankment,so gauchi'd on its spindle,Will be a traduc'd spiral of perambulating tintinabulation spirit'd,Then being speculated where all thy puntings and sweapstakes lie,Where all the curios of thy slanging matches,To spin within thy own achilless-frosty trods,Were an odyssey of tearjerker and derail of sunny times,How much traduce poureth on thy beauty by time's nebula,if thou couldst refrain'this biles of unfair shrinking violets'cluster, Shall squemish my jingo frame and my nethermost machinegun nest, That dost guille nimbus for my blushing scorn,These frangibilies were to be odorous odyssey when thou art senile,gravely karma cringest,And seeth a slander of a haunting violet,where thou art far away from golden fleece,If thou couldst not sequestrate thyself from its happygolucky hangovers,barndoor hit afar stareth thee foul in the face.

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY-SONNET 14

From the fairest foul,the meanest trite to the most unfairest plunge,Funky frith-blue funk's St.blues pillories,each mortal's hanker,sleets from its fury,That naturewit's rivet whereon ascent might never weary be,But as the reaper did by time recompense,Its tender but ferocious sledgehammer might reminiscence slanging match bears,But thatsleight,not slapdashed slander'd sleeky slather to thy hazy eyes impuissant,Slammer'st thy slacken'st heels,with self-libation slingshot,Slumbering a soldiery where solecism,soidissant solicits,Thyself thy sonorous gaunt tothy lethargic scold,thyself too greenhorn,Thou that art now planet's smirchiest shrub,only to be smitten by its gauchy cloud,That thine own shallowest bud,within thygaudy sprout,busiest contents, And fritterest churl that makest tender'st churl be now reproof fromits banging reproach,To ply gluttonous spasm of the grav'st time,that entreaty beseech spangled cobwebs to be exploited, Be thattender bud,that thou mightest a shrinking violet molasis fret not

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY- PART 13

When i have seen that that my thatched roof against the storms that fadeth not defaced,The shrimp shrewish hurled in smithereens,and interred in forlorn ground,And unflagging and unfixed,and noble but novel raiment,my grandiose passion wears,That in this sickbay and on this sickbed,of a sickielike loungelizard, When sometime shun towers and illbred esplanade tis benefice i see, And brass sinuous slavish to shrinking violet simulates, When i have seen a mere hilly beans,verily,verily transmogrify, Or nesciency itself confine a mammoth into sickos of a lifelong wheelchair,O thraldom why art thou cruelty cruel and impenitent atrocious,that singleton of a decay,rot and rapine,O that time will not save,but slavish when volition in obsession willeth rot,This blasphemous vile,shrinking violet muddy shrouds and earthpit,it cannot abscond,Shall live in rumble and jungle,that disjointthunder and thunderstruck,Whereon rapines of mincious eschatology immanent,Yea but rambunctitious though to quell o let violet depart.

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY-PART 12

Is it in thy wraith that thou friskiest kindle enkindle, Like a St. Elmo's fire,kindled in a stormy seas, So shall the glorious herald and triumphant hills ' benign graces be, Of winces of golden heart wherein shadows at his feet flees,chant salaam to cheerful earth, This shear shorn,keeps fortune and gilden boon away, But to the nightwatchman,audacity did his frenzied temple condescend,That fastens that which keeps buoyed at length with midnight oil perspicacious burning in noctunal regalia,Within shoreline protuberances,sleeky shockwaves bonemarrow threatens,Mine eye awake,when automagnetic waves aplomb,my brassy mettle felt, To neuter my automagnetic thrust,though not been impuissant;for that which i am,i shall be, That that unbriddled nerves,that kismet canst not castrate,to garrisson that which i have,i shall be, Against that automagnetic nerves,that that which has been,shall be, Against my automagnetic trudge that which shall be,am i not bound to be?

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY- PART 11

O that kismet forbideth thee to dubiety's circumvent, Not to hang limpidly to its atrophy but unearth thee of poltroon purgatory encrust, That frothy,ungraceful limbo of arts,that made thee its first slave, Still in purblind,a purloin of one's own grandest gemstone for a lopsided modus viviendi, That gem at your consort cannot control, O time art he thee imprisoned and mayest not free thee,That it be in your rainment,of rains and sun, And charter groans against drowning shores, O that rancour that ransacks in a rankle , O time thy gem ,art fled thee lustre ,when thou art imprisoned in thy willpower,The price of liberty o poltroon,thraldom which impounds behind gaol,afford thee not,to pay, O time's a sagacious sailor,ride thee rot a sainthood a good sailor,That thou mayest not bat a heavy eyelids tis the weary wight unwelcomed, But now maketh a harlot of verity a mischievious who sails the winds,the unsteady ship in nefarious oceans.

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS' DIARY-PART 10

If there be poltroon polychromatic in thy sinew,But that which thou hath stumbled,thou shalt again stumble,The pricey prestidigitation of a prickly gorse,O that that thraldom could with a prig primly defied, Even as witness of proselytes,propitious of its thraldom freedom,Adore not the puppet,the puppeteers in his puppetry,Since punctilio at punk,in booboos was done , That i might punt,what the hysterical punter could,To this puppylove of your haggard passion whether we are punctillious punctured or whether pungent they or whether resorgimento,punchdrunk be the same, O surety lies,that i am the quest,the queer of the springtide, To context mean,has quilled pungent quibble, Into the farthest seas,wherein skepticism and skeptics abide,Wherein they barely cast aboard dubiety, as impending consignment,yet still the ship capsized.

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM SONNETS'DIARY-PART 9

Then Time is not time tis its inveigled be not ridiculed,Time is not time's fool,that it be ripped off by its mortal trickster,Though thraldom by procrastinates and cheeks of rosy lips endear,Within deadluck fathomed,that deadhand postulate of jetsam's mirth frenetic games,Within this deadloss,barndoor hit compass canst not rouse and grovels,Then this claustrophobia as agoraphobia ,debouch! o debouch! o debouch! That thou mayest debug achilles in thy tendentious intumescence,Time is not time's fool that thou mayest a deadluck be,bluebeaten to impinge its arts,Of the art of paroxysm,of the paroxysm of fury,of the fury of karma, that thou its debonair wreath sing, If this desultory be not writ,then this wit be not loved, And if this deskill be desolate,upon this numb, Be it reproof,be it paradigm's shift,then desicate,O desicate,thou desicate,then desicate,o desicate.

PROFESSOR ABRAHAM DIARY'S SONNETS-Part 8

That thou mayest ravest within and feedeth with wind aboard like a raven,that doth bucket and buckle to survive,those procrastinates i prior have wit,writ to quietus,doth frond,let me not to the barricade of bolshie,bolster my tacky chin,Betide a betternoire betook my girth and assemblage,bestiality beneath but bestir a lion's spirit not its den but farthest afield,Stress is not stress as tide is not tide as salvo is not salvo,when not fired,Which cajoles byzathine and its immanent aspersions,not abscond askance and aftermath,O no it is no affable wield,to countersink procrastinate, That gazes on tacky feet and is not pang groaned,Starlets in trenchwarfare,starlets in trenches sunk,in a wanderlust gripe,Whose worth of time ridicules eclat of effect,apriori to posteriori.

SELFLESSNESS- PART 3

Selflessness is an uncommon virtue and history cannot be forgotten without memoirs about Madiba's contribution to live and breathe life,into this virtue.This is strange ethos in the continent where most leaders would have changed the constitution to enable them run for second and if possible unlimited terms.In lowliness and meekness,esteem others better than yourself and in the words of Lao Tzu,we must endeavour to erase our ignorance.He wrote:Be gentle and you can be bold;be frugal and you can be liberal;avoid putting yourself before others and you can become a leader among men'Can you see that?So,the act of selflessness is bred in the act of denial and sacrifice and requires empathy,compassion,humanism,selfdiscipline,self control and patience which take time to breed.Selfless encourages you to fight against greed and abuse of power,fight aggainst institutional injustice and brutal oppression.Little wonder,he was reported to have repeated many times that courage was not absence of fear but triumph over it.

SELFLESSNESS-PART 2

of pressure on him to take the challenge.He said and i quote: My installation as the first democratically president of the Republic Of South Africa was imposed on me much against my own advice.' The book was compiled by Nelson Mandela Foundation from his personal letters,interviews etc,contains a foreword by Barack Obama. That is selflessness at its peak and can onlybe found in a selfless person like that. He said he would have prefered to serve in that govt.or ANC without taking any position and that was why he served one term five years.The question is;how can a man who served his people wholeheartedly and was imprisoned for 27yrs unjustly,some served at the Robben Island,could stoop so low to allow another man to share his own glory.Even God as they say,will not share his glory with any man,but mandela did that until he was forced to take his glory.What a ridiculous statement but it was true because,he said it himself.The world is full of evil and manifold atrocities today just because selflessness is dead

SELFLESSNESS-PART 2

of pressure on him to take the challenge.He said and i quote: My installation as the first democratically president of the Republic Of South Africa was imposed on me much against my own advice.' The book was compiled by Nelson Mandela Foundation from his personal letters,interviews etc,contains a foreword by Barack Obama. That is selflessness at its peak and can onlybe found in a selfless person like that. He said he would have prefered to serve in that govt.or ANC without taking any position and that was why he served one term five years.The question is;how can a man who served his people wholeheartedly and was imprisoned for 27yrs unjustly,some served at the Robben Island,could stoop so low to allow another man to share his own glory.Even God as they say,will not share his glory with any man,but mandela did that until he was forced to take his glory.What a ridiculous statement but it was true because,he said it himself.The world is full of evil and manifold atrocities today just because selflessness is dead

SELFLESSNESS-part 1

Selflessness is an uncommon expertise of the heart,mind and spirit and it is beyond what the body language can speak.When selflessness is grossly lacking in a mordern society,it will be a hell of a place to live and compassion like love is dead where selfishness as a moral virtue is exalted.Life is unfair and unequal where compassion is dead and rather than pays the true price of freedom,man is enslaved by its own undoings of moral decadence.He who is determined to clean the augean stable,this excreta must he scavenge and then the path of freedom,he attained by sacrificing his life and energy for his freedom. In one of the books,published before his death,Nelson Mandela the great antiapartheid campaigner noted he never wanted to become the president of his country.But rather preffered a younger person to mount the saddle as the first postapartheid blackruler.In the book;'Conversations With Myself',that he wasforced to accept the mantle of leadership by African National Congress( A.N.C.) leaders who put a lot

HOLLOWNESS-Part one

The hollow space of the mind,the coefficient of the jungle,being its conscientious codex codified as the cockcrows,cockahooped regardless of its cockadoodledoo,from sunrise tis sunset,Will not solace dampsquib as howling wilderness in its coefficient ofexpansion nor warm the cocklesof the heart,at the cock of the walk,to trickle down purple passage,gilded trump of stardom nor this cockleshell onboard they paddle if not capsized to live in clover,that it may live like fighting cock,Does the centrifugal choplogic,ever touch the right cords,to chuckle with contemptuous contentment,out of chromatic cholera,choosypalms not a chorus girl sings?Simpleton's catharsis,burst out of this codswallop,cannot be browbeated of its jungle's coefficience,And when thrust its coldsteel,coldstorage stuck,this blemished carthasis shall speak,at the harvest of time.Conscience smitten and its impenitent clowns,a hollow psychotic connive,cannot the deep contratile burns and contrition unearth,Burning viccisitude of fortified calories

TIME FLIES-PART 7

similar to electricity:it must be produced and discharged and used in order to exist"while Eric Hoffer said that " The hardest arithmetic to master is that which enbles us to count our blessings! " That is even before they are hatched! Once you are not driven by the dictionary of the fools,in which impossibility is boldly written,you'll be forced to explore your lifetime value and "he can,who thinks he can and he cant who thinkr he cant" Orison Marden.These items are value drivers and we should realise no man's success will ever reach beyond his own confidence and ratio of time investment.In life,there is a season for planting and another for harvest and in between them time flies,regardless of whether you loose or succeed.A human seeds takes 9months,takes 6months for rice to grow,takes a seed of rabbit,it grows and reaps in 31 days time and it takes an elephant seed 22months to germinate.The flight of time,the growing price and the escalating cost,it disposes cannot create a threat and a risk to any success

TIME FLIES-PART 6

Dont waste on those things that barely add a notch to your lifetime value and stop unwarranted delays.If your past is full of delays,of painful memories,of endless sorrows and squandered times,dont worry,you should forget them and try as much as possible, to start again,and if your strives arent good enough,put in more nerves and assume bigger task. You needed more commitment to put more energy in the mission.So,theflight of time,is too trickish to detect and conscious of itssubconscious powers,a wise investment even by volatile time managers will avail much.The three enemies of personal peace and progress which include regrets over past mistakes,ingratitude over today's blessings and anxiety over tommorrow's unknown challenges and problems.They can slow down human artistic reflections and a clog in the wheel of progress.Let us realise according to George Coolman that"For each new day,praise the bridge that carried over"to the next stage,and"Gratitude"according to William Faulkner,"is a quality similar

TIME FLIES-PART 5

Mark Batterson once noted" If you dont control your calendar,your calendar will control you" It is your networth,littlewonder Alan Kein said that"Time is life",and popular adage that says"Time is money,"could not have thought differently,that the truest money is in fact time and not the fiduciary artificial equivalent."Until you value yourself,you will not value your time.Until you value your time,you will not do anything with it". Those are the marbled utterrances and golden gems of Scott Peck. When you begin to value,the most important priority items on your calendar,then i can boldly say,you have begun to value your time. Your Family,your vision time,strategic planning,delegation method etc are must do priority items and also target you meet each day optimises optimal value of time.This truest lifestyle management is by apriori or posteriori,an indication of wise time management,with strategic intention to pluck plausible and favourable effect.Now let move onto discipline and discipline is basically the...

MOURNING CLOUD-part One

The cloud above is mourning,who will console her?What counterpoise?what countermeasure,rather for a countermarch,of an animal of the cosmos,standing berserk,like a lion counchant?The cloud is mourning who will give her breast,with which nature enroute the sky,is breastfed,even beyond her council chamber?The cloud is mourning,for being adrift and barren,who will impregnate her?No lords of dickesian plow and cimmerian darkness ever fathom her boon and so the ferment mourns;for her good samaritan,is far awayor at a stonethrow distance.Who is then is worthy to place her and open the floodgate of her grandiose treasure? O Kismet Thou art worthy to loose its seal and solely reserved the unspeakable honour to do this imponderables.What will you give her that like a child she might breastfeed from her mother's breast?"Oh I remember nothing but sea current,recycled and repackaged above.Plead thee,my pedagogue,what is that?I dare not say it but ponder!ponder! please what is it?""Oh I Can remember,rains,rains,distant

TIME FLIES-PART 4

thought or linked as a portrait of Lisa Gherardini Known as the wife of an Italian wealthy silk merchant, Francesco del Giocondo.Based on popular story,this half length portrait or in French,a La Joconde painting is thought to be painting used to commission their new home and also celebrate birth of their second son,Andrea.It was painted between 1503 and 1506,although Davinci,may have continued work on it as late 1517,a good 14 years of labour.After It was acquired by king Francis 1 Of France,it Became the property of French Republic and in permanent display at the LOUVRE MUSEUM in Paris,since 1797.If the lips could take a dozen of years to complete,it means commitment,one good price of timing,fully endorsed at its peak af it takes discipline another price to be paid,for timing to be crowned with commitment.Assuming Davinci Was lazy,partying and womanising,he wouldnt have been able to do what perhaps was then unpredecented.When we are armed,with this noble fact,we are bound to think twice and caution self.

TIME FLIES-PART 3

,so beware even though you already claim so.Hence,great achievements are time greatest investment by wise time managers and great achievements are not made by chance.So,going an extramile,requires extraordinary time investment and all achievers are by mandate committed to pay this timely driven price of freedom.The price of freedom is invested in the cost of time.How come Leonardo Davinci was a man who could write and draw with one hands and draw with the other.That madness of patience andartistry,needed time to hone its leverage.For goodness sake,how could a mortal man like us,spent twelve years painting Mona Lisa lips alone.Imagine,just the lips alone!Today,Mona Lisa,or better known as La Gioconda in Italian,has become or widely acclaimed as the most widely talked about painting,the best known,most visited,most written about,most sung about and most elaborate work of art and most parodied work of art in the whole world.This most popular painting though its source has been widely disputed is nevertheless

TIME FLIES-PART TWO

the gates to our eternal and that it flies withholding access to our glory and the greatest robber,robbing us of our eternal treasure being life,we will forever in a lifetime conscious of that fact'time our greatest enemy and greatest robber flies'without we noticing even though we claim otherwise.And for the few who are awared of this fact,it is better to make the most of our little sojourn in this volatile but mean earthly passage.The great Sir Waldo Emerson of blessed memory infront of businessmen, told them"Make the most of yourself for that for that is all there is of you".Thomas Edison,wizard of electricity,did not waste his time,sharpened his ability and timely apply his mental energy to what billions of humanities and thousands of years before him,mankind could not discover.Had he honed his holy curiousity,so late in life,would nt have been so fortunate to make that groundbreaking discoveries. Ideas flow with time and the frequencies and sometimes its qualityand quantity,declines with aging.Time flies

TIME FLIES-part One

Man is like a wind and it is time that determines him lifetime value and total worth.The total worth of every man lies in the computation of time,both the poor and the rich,the good and the bad,the wise and the fool,the skilled and the unskilled,the high and lows,the humble and the proud at heart,the righteous and the wicked,all time invested patronage.The only difference that differentiates them,is how much of their time,are wisely invested in their artistic and ken development and the inherent opportunities that they stumble upon,to help them hone their artistic capabilities.It is profitable thing when we know this and equipped with this axiom,and we can be careful about time management. In one of my essays,i reveal how effective time management was instrumental to the success of western civilation and to apply that revolutionary instincts can make a difference in our daily unprofitable routines and unproductive activities.If you realise that time our greatest enemy who through death and death scare close

A SENTINEL YONDER HILLS-PART 6

of yonder generations,o this magical winces,upon rabid plow across cantankerous vale,latter rain's harvest pluck'd, Oh sentinel eulogy i hurl,sentinel that racecourses of the fleetfooted hilly beans,with rabbit punches that pugilistic eagerbeavers,with my racehorse of sentinel yonder hills,racing against time with racemeetings held on an opprobrious racetracks,wherein,i in my racing stable my pensive mood,quontidian gallivants and prowls sentry beyond,racketeered on the rack,to glide above distant gales ,distant hills,upon this rabbidities like a raffish and ragged ragamuffin with ragbags,at radiative radius of howling wilderness,my sentry frequencies radiate,and robed with naturewit graces,my hat to thee o sentinel yonder hills,where quietus lays in ruins and flees,i doff.

A SENTINEL YONDER HILLS-PART 5

hills not,lured by lucre and epicure,yet but in horror lay enshrouded,by its nauseating pantheon of froward rabidities and quarrying queasies,as they stench, At quixotic and tacky seasons,reasons are stale, Pathos,pathos,is it worth bathos like that,that i earnestly plunge to pull the trigger,in the desolate road none before ever travelled and barely fizzle out like streak of lightning and meteor,thrashed by bandwagon jump,envisoned by i a hermit,a recluse,hibernating in this numb of vitriolic plow?And rabidly played with my drudgery of dreamyard pluck'd,not mangled by wiles of gregarious chants in this betternoire of earthly shroud?And in this force majeure,my kiths and kinsman,sentinel sees yonder hills,As like the twinkling of an eye,barndoor hit,my neplus ulstra,to sigh me relief in this pessimic clone as a desperado,O sentinel methinks as my kinsman,my innate sibbling,a twain of innermost rumblings of my apparition,to thy heels,i succumb be,seeking out thy groove of eleemysynery,that the magical winces,

A SENTINEL YONDER HILLS-PART 4

,who shall come down to hade to redeem me? The windy sail or kismet? None;for Naturewit thrust no man with apotheosis,Then there's a thraldom,minacious heels,pounding my he-man and treading at one's heels,shall i dreamyard holocaust fret by my sangfroid girth of heighhos? far be it,Shall i not be wright so sturdy,with sublime graffiti,to wriggle froth free this pugnacious furnace,to whose featherbrained dunces,no fiddlesticks poached,to strangle a clairvoyant orgy,and then die dreamyard intestate ere my sentinel lays?Or shall i live,is it not for barndoor hit?That sempiternal sanguinary bank of insolent hell,marshed with horror of oblivious memoirs of deplorable and departed souls,the sheol of no return,wherein all men onward bound,to which my mysticism placates,where eternities tis eternities,decrepit bones and quiscent bones lay,when quietened by quietus,at queer earth's querrulous loins and such cremated cannot be doused,this whole shebang greedily horrifies deep breath,where bloody dickens,salve yonder

A SENTINEL YONDER HILLS-PART 3

I'll groove with thee,enchanted by thy placebo,to nurse my grief and my tendon comfort sought,What should i do i here solitary with you? My gaunt lustre cavorting floppily,must not precipitous be, Come oh come my solitude thrust in thy drunken solicitude engrooved,What if this farago barndoor no hit,then shall i retreat again?O yes,squeaky clean shall i retreat with thy gritty chin ensconced,What if be potion,in the cuisine and saddle salivated which the sloths sublimely pother hath speckled to have me windy sail,lest in this quavering thraldom,causal forces my avalanche refrain,because windy sail beneath slothful embankment,rudderless bank seeth not?Then shall i stratagem,in the suble plough,plows reworked and plough again;for kismet hath steam being relentless wrestle itself cannot wriggle off this humbug tis mountain above gazeth thee stuck,i will not my proud cheeks temerity bereft,how if when awkward am laid in the tomb,And my graveyard wishes'horses with my dreary dreamyard,with me six footstone laid,

A SENTINEL YONDER HILLS-PART 2

;for thou hast nailed the poser,triumphant hills beneath entrapped.All ados paraded,all purports' contrivance,confined to wits ends,And thou art consigned to them and refrain vilous solace at dusk,But when otherwise thou didst groove,no exorcism pacify be, Nor incantation booboos doused,wraith fled where forbearances fled,And thee by thy coagulated self,electrified like a positron,winces pounced,Nothing like sentinel beyond yonder hills,to salvage thee contraption of the gulf,a summerhouse yonder byzanthinous dusk,waow,a placebo in times of grief and despair,Naturewit May thou thy gracious graces groove mine sentry yonder hills uncharted,And court not bliss at the graveyard blushing sands! Sentinel's Soliloquy: Valedictory,i bade not thee away,kismet's spanking and soulsearching sinecure,to thee thy tendons,knows we shall meet at the neplus ulstra,i have no qualm and thraldom that my John Bull sees beyond yonder hills,triumphant hills pluck'd,that the sloths lay in ruins of desolate cities,and pathos not its

A SENTINEL YONDER HILLS-PART ONE

A sentinel yonder hills, a sentinel yonder hills.Beyond the gropping sun,lies a seer who sees the yonder hills, Sentry no more beneath the heated moon, Nor the sentinel pastime's pasture blushes,that it might be bereft of forages, that thou thy indescribable cosmos salivate,hast renege not,Dissuade art thou gone not;and taken thy libido gritty; Platonic platitude and hilly beans must redound fret,as bandwagon jumpers come home to roost,in their vagabond esplanade of bandwagon jump,Thraldom no more frollic when yonder hills,he sees,thou art braggart,a windy tyrant stroke,fret solitude of solicitude to adorn this gospel,to thee rudderless banks wary no more enchant,that strangling spectre of dose of physic,a leeway from thraldom imprisoned,the throng plausible but come to dust, Graveyard plaudits,wreaths at the tombs,lightens not frittered vintage,circa by circa,Nor prior pleadings,for a relief at this epitaph's dialect,quirky pall a sigh to placate,thralldom tis thralldom;for he that sees beneath yonder hills,

DICKY-BIRD

Frenetic dicky bird,mired with dog-eat-dog politics,thy lustre dissonance falters,Of tendons'frollic bay,triumphant hills'doggone lay,those feckless bones are straitjacketed lackeys,that were his dunghill metaphors strucks,Nothing of this John Bull that doth forbearances forbear,But doth lie doggone pulverised his golden feet,smoulder forays of the appogee,strangulating hourly and diurnal,breezes a deathbed breeder. Dog eat dog politics! bathous rampage! that dark leap,not deadmarch frozen ,hark! now in surfeit,a streak like a streak of lightning,hardly a throng grooves.

O KISMET

O Kismet Who are you? o kismet tarry where are you longuer? O so callowed braid and briddle,your gallivant fusspot's vile callisthenics,that can mope my springtide and highspirit,trickle down no further calamitous calcifying,sojourn's transit in cacophonous grin,Every wight's windy sail,doth cadaverous callow, What is kismet?tis noferious windy sail hereafter,Goading girth hath borne bland captivate,what's to windy sail is still not capricious unfurl;in tardiness lies in sated surfeit,then windy sail kisseth them at wobbling feet,succullent and sullen but not castigated, Kismet apologetics' apologia so cautious grins,mammoth will not indure.

SEQUESTRATE !

Perfidious shenannigans and shifty setpieces,in serried ranks,gregarious flocks;Sheen to sheen its briddle pluck,Insuburdination,a substantive verb,hardly submerged,sunken and superlative sloths,fly like smokes in the wind,Sloth is full of sport and vile's nimbly, its breath,a vivacious foams,Being wildest horses in the city square,do i abhor them? That my commerce none,oh my thraldom- survival! Do i really abhor them,like menatarms,in the success vicissitude,yearning towards neplusultra.O genteel bone marrow,pleadings i plead thee,my pulse rises,spare me this stigma and avail me not with a scar that might stain my wobbling feet towards the wits end.But all smashhits this excreta must eat. Therefore be not sequestrate, Otherwise,a lifelong pauper thy winces be.

MARGARET PART 2

All ladies are the same, deceived by lucreglots,one foot in lucre's craves and one foot in a man's heart.O that constant constant may never change. Let the bitches be, poor homes everywhere and the world a moribund place to live. Let them be, Let them be.

MARGARET- PART ONE

Who is Margaret that i am in love with her? Is she fair to look upon,that before a throng i might be bold to flatter her in my ensconce?Oh,grandeaur moderate! Is she honest that i may confide in her ? May she be benevolent to a fault,but still keep her pride as a woman? This i dare not attest. My roving eyes still dribbled back and forth,pays not homage,in lieu of her nonchallance and unsteady heart? Am i an epitome of ample bravery to confront her devils? Filthy lucre doth to her hawkeyed pious eyes,reproof on every ado to embellish her wiles of nonchallance,in contradistinction of a heart willing and subservient of a maiden love. Then not to Margaret to let me sing her praise,a moribund brisk whose craze to love money,desecrates a yearning heart of an itching lover.She is disgusting to approach,as is fitting frequency of womensfolk.This foible,hits speedily,like an alien force from outer space and thus have i resolved;i still yet findeth not a woman who could love me as i am. Then shall i love no more?

SOLITARY CONFINEMENT-PART 3

Great inventions are done in silence and unsung and you have to be in prison and imprisoned to achieve them.The road into the city of dreams ,that beautiful jerusalem is a lonely journey and most unsung,so that it is the unsung that gets there.To be in that prison,you are sure of succesful exit.To write a novel,a timeless work of art,you would have to go to that school.Though,every one of us wanted to achieve great things still yet they are not ready to go jail.Make up your mind to vote for solitary confinement into your diet and be read to go to prison.The pragmatic outcome of such trial is better attested to by its action men and we can only share what experiences,we have to the dying souls.Each Man's strength lies in silence and confidence;so to be able to explore this realm,we require a little faith to be jailed possibly,not for failure but for triumph.Women are natural creators like god and babies are brewed for months,in the womb. Use your quiet time well for a productive routine,habbits and customs .

SOLITARY CONFINEMENT-PART Two

why chaos is on the increase,in mordern time.I did some research lately and cudgeled over the population of world greatest original inventors,leaders and most influential theorists of all time,to my utter amazement,i was embarrassed,i still could not hundred solid men,that shaped the course of human history.That speaks volume the quality of use of our quite time,from time immemorial. That questions and challenges human thinking intergrity,what we do with our quiet time and how we use our quiet time collectively and the originality of its use and perpetual awakening of thoughful immersion. Isn't it despicable that the spate of violence,mass poverty,ailments and imperialism on the increase in mordern age shows its depletion? The use is deplorably abandon and we are thoughtless,reaping what we sow.In his book-As A Man Thinketh,James Allen says"All that a man achieves or fails to achieve is the direct result of his thoughts". We are limited by what we think and we are boundless by what we think.It is your stardom

SOLITARY CONFINEMENT-PART ONE

An alternative title that i could have used instead of the above caption is-'When You Are Alone.' So,when you are alone,what do you do?What do you do with your quiet time?If you want to succeed in life,it is a common knowldge that you must be creative,you must be creator like God in your closet.It is absurd to drink yourself to a stupor,in a lifelong without a commensurate intellectual contribution or womanise at reckless proportion,not occupying your minds with productive thoughts of a creator god. Moreso,as creation is done in secret and all works of arts,both learning and teaching,expression,impression and reflection,including curios,artefacts being also promiscuous works of imagination are embosses bred in silence,when your solitude is confined.All great inventions and preparedness,situated in this realm.A man is not complete without perpetual thinking weeks and quiet time and quiet time as boon companion.There is no intergrity and the population of such despicable brutes in human society,explicably shows

GROWTH- A CONTINUUM - Part three

The case of nineteen year old Liu Shih-Kun quickly comes to mind,who was an esteemed concert pianist,renown in China,until the emergence and wasting venom of cultural revolution,that banned all forms of western influence.But he refused to renounce his beloved music,and Liu was deemed or labelled enemy of the people,beaten to a pulp and then incarcerated.Then,he languished in a tiny cell,had no books,no paper,no script,no instrument and even worse not even close to his beloved piano.For propaganda reasons,six years later was called to play in Beijing with the Philadelphia Ochestra.Still,he performed brilliantly. What was the reason,because even eighteen month later,he still performed flawlessly?Certainly,he must have figured out,how to play an imaginary piano,how wonderful an imprisoned legs but not an imprisoned minds and hands that never ceased to play this balloon of imaginary thoughts!Learning must be constant even in the bitter climate of experience,be so even much more.Certainly,a new custom can beformed

GROWTH- A CONTINUUM - Part two

even the smallest events or situations into breakthroughs in thinking and action.Look,at all life as a school and every experience as a lesson and your learning will always be greater than your experience.'In that school that is life,we are taught by fate,how to use our custom and routines through hardwork to gather experience,from which by way of eualuation and breakeven analysis,learning proceeds,when explored.We can do nothing,when they are bitter experience and when we are caught in its bitter climate and terrific waves,we manage to learn from that contraption whatsoever,and then move on.When Charles Schulz in an old peanuts cartoons,shows Charlie Brown at the Beach,building a splendid SandCastle,it is wonderful to admire what a magnificent work of art.As he stands back for its admiration,it is suddenly destroyed by fire.Then,he says,in the last frame,'There must be a lesson here,but for the life of me i dont know what it is.'Nothing is worse than not learning from our daily experience.Isn't it foolish?

GROWTH-A CONTINUUM Part one

Life is all about growth and that cannot be possible without essential learning and continuous learning to facilitate that continuous growth.So,growth is a continuum where learning is a continuum and a lifetime perpetual cycle of growth is muchmore than possible,where they are perpetrated as a necessity.Learning is vital,because the extent of human serfdom,at a given period,is highly unknown and cannot be ascertained too quickly. No one can tell,the extent to which we are enslaved to our daily routine,frosty and frigid traditions.Authors Dan Sullivan and Catherine Nomura were famous for their Book-The Laws Of Lifetime Growth.They contended'continual learning is essential for lifetime growth.You can have a great deal experience and be no smarter for all the things you'll done,seen and heard. Experience alone is no guarrantee of lifetime growth.But if you regularly transform your experiences,into new lessions,you'll make each day of your life a source of growth.The smartest people are those who can transform

WE CANNOT OUTSMART DEATH PART 3

chest,hideously long fingernails in grotesque yellow cockscrews.... Many of his teeth were black,rotting stumps.A tumour was beginning to emerge from the side of his head.....innumerable needlemarks.......".Howard Hughes indeed an insatiable human animal,and a pitiful soul with no contentment on his own limitations.

WE CANNOT OUTSMART DEATH-PART 2

I was just laughing hysterically at our mortal follies,when i read about Michael Drosnin.Very funny indeed. Drosnin wrote a book about this gullibility and vanity of mortal craves,when he cited and sampled the story of a man who wanted more wealth,so he built the biggest financial empires of his day.Really! He desired more and more pleasure,so he lured with money the most glamourous women of his day.Really!When he craved for adventure,he set airspeed records,built and piloted world's brightest aircraft and also by acquiring political clouts,secured more political power and was envy of senators.Really!He also also owned exotic film studios and paraded stars,and this gave him more glamour,that he so much craved for.Anyway,that Is not our headache but just listen to excerpt below from Drosnin's book,what happened to the man,when he died."He was a figure of gothic power,ready for the grave. Emaciated,only 120pounds stretched over his sixfoot inch frame....thin scraggly beard that reached its way unto his sunken

WE CANNOT OUTSMART DEATH

Man is deceived by the vanities of life and i keep wondering why would man labours so much,so hard only to loose them to at the end to a simpleton and die like foul.It is the most horrible aspect of our mortality.We are not just gullible but much more more moronish and harebrained and still we being hallucinated by the epicure of this vanity like i pointed in 'Life- A Vanity Fair.'Ernest Becker in his book entitled"The Denial Of Death"published in 1974,lamented this horror of horrible lives and concluded we live our lives,ignoring,avoiding and repressing the truth that we are all human or clothed by mortal fabric and that sooner or later,we are all going to die.That ignoring this fact was the basis of our alcoholism,approval addiction,madness and obsession with money and security.That same year that he published his book and won pulitszer with great acclaims,that same year,was diagnosed with cancer that same year,he died.Can you imagine that to witness that life is a paradox? Ever since,still never repented

EXTRA EFFORT NEEDED.Part 5

I was so much excited about the story of late Chief Obafemi Awolowo of blessed once told by himself.She said:"When i got married,i decided on how to live a life of virtue.And so when i got to England in 1944 and i was there till 1947,women came to me and some of them were single.They asked why i was going to buy things for myself at the grocery,fruits and food stores!When i saw this,i was afraid because i had been married for seven years.I had disciplined myself and stuck to one wife.How can a reasonable man allow ten minutes of enjoyment to destroy seven years of a happy married life? No way!You know many of these girls patronised night clubs in Britain.At one time,my friend invited to accompany him to a nightclub.Knowing the possible consequences,i refused to go!I was a married man and that was it.On that night,the nightclub i declined to go,was raided and lots of people were killed".That was an incredible willpower and selfcontrol and that can only happened when extra mile principle is applied.

EXTRA EFFORT NEEDED.Part 4

It takes only the strong hearted to put in such great efforts or your best effort,and requires going extra mile.But you cannot force people against their wills, and like Andrew Carnegie,steel Magnate:" There's no use in trying to help people who wont help themselves. You cannot push anyone up a ladder unless he or she is first willing to climb it."That is where extra mile principles come in,where you needed to do more, to achieve or nurture right atmosphere for that character building.This requires Art Williams once concluded ,' You beat 50perc. of the people by working hard;you beat the other 40perc.by being a person of honesty;....and the last 10perc.is a dogfight'that is competitive struggle.That is the extramile principle,you need to truly cultivate the means to incorporate Maxwellian Constitution Of Success and hardwork.Once that custom is cultured,your cability to overcome stress,frustration,contemptuos violation of your rights,including the things that challenge your values.You Must be approachable too

EXTRA EFFORT NEEDED Part 3

carrying a chip on his shoulder is the easiest way to get into trouble,that the quickest way to become unpopular is to carry tales of gossip about others,buckpassing always turns out to be a boomerang,and that it doesnt matter who gets the credit so long as the job gets done.He learns that most others are as ambitious as he is,that they have brains as good or better that hardwork not cleverness is the secret of success. He learns that no one ever gets to first base alone,that it's only through cooperative effort that we move onto better things.He realises in short that the"art of getting along"depends 98perc.on his own behaviour towards others'. I want to believe without extraeffort nurtured in character building,the Maxwellian constitution of success that is hinged on five cardinal principles of sacrifice,selflessness or altruism or humanitarianism,selfcontrol,collectivity and delegation and last hardwork cannot be possible.Your moods albeit occassionalflunctuation,must be consistent with that success points

EXTRA EFFORT NEEDED-Part 2

not seven times but seventy seven times.He had previously thought,he was being generous enough with the seven times'offer of acceptance,a godly extra effort by his own standard,before Jesus,deflated his humanistic ego as trash.Jesus knew the old testament truly well and must have gotten that number from Lamech philosophy and chose it deliberately,to do away with it.To be indeed an evil man,a villain or a hero ,a righteous man,you needed to go extramile.Infact,in everything you do,an extra mile,an extraeffort needed,by all ramification is a neccessity.Dr.John Maxwell writes:'Sooner or later,a man if he is wise,discovers that life is a mixture of good days and bad,victory and defeat,give and take.He learns that it doesn't pay to be a too-sensitive soul,that he should let some things go over his head.He learns that he who looses his temper,usually looses out,that all men occassionally have burnt toast for breakfast,and that he shouldn't take the other fellow's moans too seriously.He learns that carrying a....

EXTRA EFFORT NEEDED-Part one

In the philosophy of life,in general,be it for good or for evil,you needed extra effort to become a righteous man,a hero as well as extra effort,to become an evil minded person or a villain,indicating that it is extra effort that gives you such regonition or identity.In the Bible,there is the story of Lamech,a descendant of Cain,one Of Adam's son.Now,Cain Killed brother Abel,and God instead of killing him,as karma,put a mark on him,saying that if anybody killed Cain,they 'd pay it for it seven times over.Then,one day somebody hurt Lamech and he was annoyed,then killed the offender,and boasted about about it.He said"i have killed a man for wounding me."so that..."if Cain is avenged seven times,then Lamech seventy seven times" Gen.4:23-24. He was justified with evil.When Christ came cleaned the augean stable,and when Peter who had been hurt by one person,with burden in his heart came to Jesus and asked that question;'How many times do i forgive this man;seven times?'With his superior knowledge,told him:not 7 ..

SHALL I COMPARE THEE TO A PINTSIZED MINNOW?PART 2

Nor shall voxpop braggadocio thee to moult fairest of verity?When in versified lines,to aptitude coaxed thee growest therein.Shall i not compare thee to a pintsized minnow?So that thou aptitude by altitude can breathe thee a transmogrified predilection,altering thy hewn,So pronto thy provenance,if nadir on the prowl,So pronto,protuberant stupendous to moult,a proximity to a sigh of relief heaved,Not a stricken as psychopaths and sociopaths,within pusillanimous putrefaction assaulted,it was no purple patch that thou art betray'd.But frolic dance of a purportless brook,dancing hellish meadows as heaven's quidproquo,Stigmatise not the quiddity with the queer of quiescent incertitude,May it recrimination spunk,be rectified when this queer's redhot undressed.

SHALL I COMPARE THEE TO A PINTSIZED'S MINNOW?Part one

Shall I compare theeto a pintsized sallow?Shall i compare thee to featherweight minow?A spiracle of spine tingling spindle,a spicy spin and a spiritless spinoff archery,bereft of spiffing springtide,a spuriousphenomenon of the plumpous earth.Rudderless banks quavering thespunkless bud far away,fugaciousmuds of howling feet,hath alltoo brutish compare,Sometimes,tooblushing a tawdry's tallyhoo anda derelict terpsichorean,And Oft is he succubus suckled anddimmed,And unfair trod,washed up byhis wastrel of time and magical impulse,Nor by providence or by nature wit's voyeau,beseeming bled?Thy psychosis and neurotic fracture,but by gallivating to and fro,as a pugnacious winds,nor weary visage beneath,voyeauristically undressed,So shall thou with such rectitude,adored,in its rectilinear gusto,Oh behold the public square a repertoire of reeds and reef knot ,Whosebeguilling sport,hellish ado,kismet drown'd;And redoubtable on the flee,relapses and rekindled,Oh this reef knot,do not nostalgia rejoices,thy fret dessert

SHALL I COMPARE THEE TO A PINTSIZED'S MINNOW?Part one

Shall I compare thee to a pintsized sallow?Shall i compare thee to featherweight minow?A spiracle of spine tingling spindle,a spicy spin and a spiritless spinoff archery,bereft of spiffing springtide,a spurious phenomenon of the plumpous earth.Rudderless banks quavering the spunkless bud far away,fugacious muds of howling feet,hath all too brutish compare,Sometimes,too blushing a tawdry's tallyhoo and a derelict terpsichorean,And Oft is he succubus suckled and dimmed,And unfair trod,washed up by his wastrel of time and maigcal impulse, Nor by providence or by nature wit's voyeb vd

BARK! BARK! THE DOG.Part 2

O John Bull,why are you apoplectic? O my John Bull ,why are you apoplectic?O stolid and staid!Your slippery slope polyandrous parched with boobytraps,that can transit both varicose veins and gumptionless winces,a night train trite fugacity,tunnel vision's top heavy galloping in dunghill nether's commute.Every transit muster's treachery doth scam,what is ire?'tis rodomontade;bedeville's sport hath winces gash,what's to stigmatise,still quite incertitude,in same foible,there lies thyself immanent foibles,then come moult it,rows and rowdiness,Youth's vile thyself foible,a threnody must sing.

BARK ! BARK ! THE DOG

BarK ! bark ! the dog at hell furious, And apoplectic'gins aplomb, His paroxysm to strew at those clutches at straws,On stircrazi'd stitches that swirls;And staggering John Bull,stamping and stampeding, To spurn contemptuous swipe,With the whole shebang,that gorgeous damp squib,flappable,My apopletic John Bull swankily vacuous,furacious! furacious!

VANITY FAIR MARKET- LIFE- Part 3

Yet about 43million people,about 14.3percent of Americans in 2015 live below poverty level of $2 a day.She has the second largest relative child poverty in the developed world and the case of poverty among blacks and single mother population,is quite terrible,in a country with the richest economy of the world.The case of Charles Schwab,steel President;Arthur Cooger,great Wheat Speculator,that shot himself;Of Richard Whitney,exchange President that went to three years jail;Albert Fall, U.S.President Cabinet Member;Leon Fraser,Bank President that shot himself;Ivan Krueger,head of one of the world largest monopolies,also committed suicide.Howard Hughes,formerly richest American And the world,also died a pauper,living in that same condition in a penthouse of his skyscraper.What is the purpose of wealth,if it cannot be shared? Bill Gates must have learnt a lesson from this vanity fair market when he decided that his wealth will be shared before his death.Hence touch a soul today.

VANITY FAIR MARKET- LIFE-Part two

weremuch more wealthy than UnitedStates put together.But the beautifulstorylaterturned sad story andevidenced with the fact that three ofthese men at the end committed suicidedue to frustration and confusion.Thisshouldnotbethe way rich people endtheir life.Of the remaining four,one became insane,one ended in prison and president of world largest steelcompany,diedpoor,after living on borrowed money,for the last 8years of hislife.Vanity Indeed,life Is a big vanityfair market.In the great chicago fire of the 18th century,when the fire almost wiped outChicago from world map,took fire fighters 22days to put off.This cost numerous lives,assetsand billionaires were turned paupers.In the United Statestoday,compassion is still not enough,giving the fact that despite being richest economy,it also has the highest levelof income and wealth inequality worldwide.For instance,Jeffrey Sach,Havard don of theearth institute once noted 99% of Americans control only 1% of U.S. wealth and 1% of Americans Control99% of U.S.wealth.

VANITY FAIR MARKET- LIFE -part One

The rich,the capitalist has colonised and they do not have compassion for the poor.Wealth sharing or humanism is grossly lacking allover the world and the richwith capitalism,has mortgagedthe entire destiny of mankind for their selfish gain.Unfortunately,not many of them died well.Life unknown to many of us,is a vanity fair market,where we tradeand still leave everything behind.Were it not for karl Marx,the world have been far more unequaltoday.And all capitalists like the poor,still die a pauper.All your losses and profit,failure and success,good and bad,you leave them,where your history live on posthumously.There is no different between the two when they die.In 1923,the seven world richest men metin Chicago and they include,the president of the largest private steel industry in the world,President of the Bank internation settlement inc.,a member of U.S.President's Cabinet and the chairman of world largest stock exchange-The New York Stock Exchange.As at that time,these men were much more richer than the...

MAN CONQUER YOURSELF;NOT THE GREAT MOUNTAIN

The story of Edmund Hillary,once againdrives me crazy and i think he must have been esoteric,fetish and unworldly to achieve such feat,in a volatile world,where vision destroyers abound.When he failed,in his first attempt,he was confused and wentback to drawing board.Hewas ableto conquer himself by exceedingly giant leap in hissense of purpose and discipline tothe vision of climbing the unclimbable.Hisfaith and the power of hisconfessiondid the magic.Afterthe firstfailed attempt,he saw thepicture of Mt.Everest elsewhereandthat changed his imagination.Then he moved closer to thepicture and said;"Mt.Everest;you have defeated me once and you might defeat me again.But am coming back again and again,and i am going to win because you can't get any bigger,Mt.Everest,but i can." Hillary was telling the mountain"i can grow bigger and smatter,but you cannot.You are restricted but am unlimited".He kept improving himselfuntil he climbed everest;and hisgreatest ever words:"It is not the mountain we conquer but ourself".

NEVER QUIT-PART 20.

Consideringthe fact that,that winninggoal did not come in the full 90minutes,but was scored duringthe extratime,was the seventh wonder ofthe world.Infact,there were 32million tweetsgenerated on twitter worldwideand in the last minute,fansgenerated more than 600,000 tweets.Imagine 600,000 tweets,in One Minute!Extra times can be both dangerous and a blessing.For you to therefore develop a lasting spirit of resillienceand fortitude,"It is not the mountain weconquerbut ourself"saidthe greatest mountain climber,Edmund Hillary,the first man on earth toclimb Mt.Everest,the tallest known mountain.He failed in the first timeattempt and laterwon.Be reminded of the popular saying at a school graduation,by British War Hero,a nobel laureate andmost respected Prime Minister Winston Churchill:" Never give in.Never give in. Never,never,never-in nothing,great or small,large or petty-never give in,except to convictions of honour and good sense.Never yield to force.Never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy".