Inked Tongue

  To fully understand is to fully appreciate and even at that, mysteries can also be extremely appreciated.  ONDO is one of those mysteries that wraps her suitors in the web of love, wonder and fascination. You can barely understand the intricacies of her delectable design; the art, the music, the food and the tourism. These elements perfectly shapes the beauty that you all know to be ONDO state; The Sunshine State.  ONDO is one of the hallmarks of undiluted Yoruba culture, with a range of different dialects. The Ondo city, the state’s heritage is uniquely designed and blessed with divine structures and with people of great confidence in their art and creative prowess. There is a mysterious source of energy that fuels ondo and it’s people. Some say it is the Sun that is always flamboyantly shining at its peak and others say it is in the fact that gods roam among the people. Ondo takes pride in her centers of tourism and who are you to talk about tourism without mentio...

  Here in the constellation of stars, we move to the rhythm of the earth’s vibration.  Our souls have been intertwined by the act of spiritual tango We move through the milky way with one consciousness, with one mind, with one spirit. To think that we found each other in a hopeless place. To think that our atomic nuclei could fuse like polar ends of magnets.  To think that the rising sun was pathetically impatient to witness our bodies hold themselves in his light. To think that the crescent moon was reluctant to go to bed so she wouldn’t miss the entanglement of our tongues in her light.  Here in this multiverse of reality, our times collapsed into each other.  The universe conspired to bind our hearts on mother earth’s crust.  Saturn in all her beauty and glory was no match for the veil of love that adorned us.  Venus in all her temperature was no match for the heat that you exude when your earthy body draws close to mine.  Mars in all his valor...

  Call out to me in this dense abyss of darkness where light has become a taboo and where life has become a myth. I will give a loud cry but you will fail to hear it because the sound of my voice has been scattered rashly across the fabrics of time. Give me a sign to assure me that you will bring me back to the days where we danced in the sun and flew kites over the vast blue sky. For I dwell in the very core of something that holds my soul hostage And the gates of my eyes can no longer hold back these tears from the intensity of suffocation that gravity commands on my mortal body.  I have lost touch of space and time and every memory I have, seemed to have collapsed like the sands at the beach. My only remedy is to find the most sacred particle of sand in this avalanche of probability.  In my attempt to get back to you my darling, I buried myself deep in the blackness and vastness of zillions of events that could possibly connect me to your reality.  But reality is ...

THE QUESTIONS- a poem to my father.   How do you sleep when your dreams keep you awake? How do you feel when you try your daddy’s shoes and wonder if your foot will ever fit? How do you dance in the rain when your tears are enough to baptize you? How do stay calm when all of nature has rebelled against your cognition? How do you make a horse drink from fresh waters of your own picking? How do you build an architectural edifice from a thought? How do you stay tranquil in the midst of a raging storm?  How do you not wake up from your sleep and yell “BLOODY HEAVENS”?  How do you close your eyes to the biting teeth of a child you fed from your laboring hands? How do you give water to neighbors when your tank is not promised of a refill by the morning? How do you build a name so big that it humbled the lips of your children? How do you weep into a basin until the basin feels like a basket, as your hot tears bore holes into its base? How do you not shiver when the cold harmatta...

  I’m thrusting through with a fierce resolve A dirty push-up My head is filled with images of naughty girls in clown costumes  My arms are feeling sore from the calculations of corrected positions  I break a sweat and my heart makes a loud thud Nothing really matters in this space  Just fine movement at rhythmic paces  Bone grinding bone Fluids mixing up All the commotion in my head disappear And for that moment I am sane  In this zone, I make a vow  To always kiss the floor when I do a push-up

  Swing from the hanging star oh child  Lose all the memories of the wild thorns that conspired to embrace your dreams Dreams about castles and conquering kingdoms Kingdoms and fortes that might stand against your rulings Give a loud cry to send a signal to your future self To remind him to guard his heart and tame his tongue To remind him about the scar on his left palm The scar from an attempt to uproot a wild and toxic plant that was sown by a father figure But a word is enough for the wise But certainly not enough for the curious So Child you must come to terms that on your quest for glory, more scars shall appear on your hands A lot of sowing A lot of uprooting A lot of tilling A lot of cutting of trees that you might have nurtured over the years Trees that were planted even by your ancestors  Or parents, or childhood friends and foes TREES Deep within the core of your heart’s crust their roots might have travelled So you take extreme measures to uproot them A fresh ...

  At the eleventh hour, they stormed into the ballroom In all shades of fashion, they painted our lusting eyes Sweet smelling ethanol did their lethal bodies give And their aura shook our heads Making it impossible to say yes to our cultivated discipline Pretty Tornadoes, inverted by the shape of their English ball dresses They wrecked our confidence But we chose to still ask them for a dance The festive spirit was with us  They agreed And dance did we To the melody of the reckless music, we danced On the tip of our libido, we danced At the expense of our beating hearts, we danced Wine after wine me and my brothers drank Just to boost our confidence to feel the warmth of their thighs But they blocked off all our agenda with graceful tactics And with sweet laughter Sweet enough to cause the other men in the room to desert their wives in a bid to dance with natural disasters Confidence became a precious commodity And cups of wine became the legal tender Graceful men lost their c...

  Closed eyes Hot coals underneath my feet I stand corrected And with a mind roaming wild in the dark I stand stripped  Stripped by my own opinions Opinions coined from an undying quest to be free  What price do I have to pay to hold a conversation with my higher self To bath in the river of tranquility What shouldn’t I be? I gaze on a sacred painting of a future where everyone understands their purpose Such a painting does not exist Every man is here to make another man’s story narratable So I cling to a symbol of peace, a symbol of love or unforgivable sacrifice To remind myself that I am a portal to many A door to a stranger’s paradise Or sometimes a rope in a tug of war A rope in a tug of war? As holy as the morning dew can be My heart yearns to be Yet at the end of the struggle between light and darkness I stay lying exhausted on the soiled grass Let the morning dew do to me what it does to the petals of the purple hibiscus Maybe then I shall consider being an instru...

  There is this bench I love sit on outside of my house I sit to ponder on the small things of life Like the chirping birds on the tree, the whistling sound of the wind, the water that romances our ankles at the beach I think of great things as well But not before I must have romanticized my persona and given strong appraisal to the main character that dwells inside of me That idea that makes you give a nasty smirk at yourself in the mirror The forever tempting mindset that there is nothing you cannot own or achieve That your heels will not be bruised if you jumped down from the Eiffel tower Does this touchy subject make you feel like a villain? Oh stop it Villains are the characters that ended up not proving themselves If the movie of life speaks loudly of you and gives you a fine grand ending, then you get your flowers Or does this perhaps make you feel like a fraudster? Easy Just be a very good one and pray never to ever get caught But how fiercely ...