Segun Ozique

  A girl. Beautiful alluring yoke Comely and desirous to the eyes Like a luscious petal, looks fragile .

  Smiling without cause is memories like dreams When many a mile I have seen me transported Seeing me amongst the dotting sky stars Or, walk on water as often fly without wings   For many hours I have found myself gazing My inspiration like being in the ocean, To hear the running and rushing of waters The simplicity of the gentle feel; celestial   The subtility of mind control Penetration of my head as heart The feat of my soul overcoming my fears, Tuned me sporadically, applauding me   Oh, love, you have come to quieten my troubles Aiding and adorning a pick-me-up memory bank, Love, of which I only hear and read of; is far removed Has no doubt crept upon me; made me a victim, beatified.

  Wild, eager and honied; a beauty to explore Delicate and portable she is, like scentful sunshine And her mouth, a sculpt; kissable, and succulent sweet   Yet being matured but child-like-limits the attraction Cheapening and masking the good qualities and virtue So, like quencher, ought only to be perched on   Hopefully, she would learn, but quick. For like carcass, I noted the vulture hovering. I pray she is not picked to bones before she wakes.   To see her character rebuilt as one; of the departed All that would remain to be; between the darkness And realisation that escorting needs the use of a lantern.

 Amen. To prayers, wants and whims or the cravings that came through To myriad other thirsts, itches, and lusts not gotten; lost like in daily dew Eloping as unfulfilled appetition; winged, chased by wicked day sun ray Leaving hollow bowel filled with the emptiness of all wants: That you are pursuantly high, dry, and weakened to have.             Another amen. To successful sweep away broken pieces: leaving this portrait that remains The fundamental needs, and not wants; the vanity of societal enslaving lures The prescription where one unfulfillment pigeonholes one’s destiny or Being In a knot finely rung to keep us all in our places; damned: No compensation.   That is us in the abyss. Where lives and living outside the prescription leads to further dejection Threatening bleakness with slamming gravel to extinguish lives of light At this point of a shackle, longingly chained, the writhing for want intensifies Our voiceless voices are amiss, milling m

 Why put yourself through full cream of scariness? Of excitement, disappointment and panicky compulsion? Considering the context of time, shortness of life and other things to do? Why embark on a madden of all insane-driven passion? What crazy creative intrinsically gene is the cause of such affliction? Why face a scary blank page, trepidation, ubiquitous shadow of failure, hell, pure hell? For me, I write to dream; yes, that is it; To connect with the world beyond, When I want how I want and where I want To leave a mark, a voice, and permanency in this world So that when after that I have gone to the hereafter My joy would remain the pleasure of building blocks of word on another, Firmly having fulfilled my burning desire to let the rioting words inside of me out To have the world in entity join me to explore my thinking I care less to prepare for failure and criticism than I ought or care to deal with Instead, ready to hit back with a rebound and redoubl

 My writing life hides in plain sight, Mind is always filled with conversations With snippets, lyrics, drama and all sorts Thoughts to papers, electronics or virtual I have turned the company I most cherish And not until I release the noise stay swirling So, as ideas strike like lightening, I scribble or click Sometimes, it is deadlines that spur me to action, Prompts do help guide me, as do sentence starters, The senses graphically organise, outline, structure, And when it is a poem, pictorially, it helps mentor texts Describing what I see, think, and how-feelings in an outpour As a laced musing emerges, the heart and mind come to peace.

  More facts are emerging about the Kuje prison attack. It was an insider collaborative job; unless the government reigns now, more attacks will follow. Beyond all the hue and cry, who ordinarily should hold up hands as responsible? Unless those who ought to show exemplary leadership, it can only get worse.

  I see bodies popping and peppering the streets And thinking, I ought to be packed in readiness, Places I could run to, my commune homes of poets, As for tickets, I have one stating, going nowhere   In my packed bag is my obituary already crafted, On my lips are the ever-continued constant prayers That whenever I lay me down to sleep, I forever pray Lord, my soul, take; for I could die before the break of day   All around us the enemies have weapons mounted and locked In the skies, the vulture wander, rising and dipping; expectant And daily the toll rises. I envy the dead; they are the lucky ones Their wait settled; now nestle with He who eternally loves them

Not being in my circle, I could not imagine his sort Till I sat to breakfast at his table him at the head I pictured his reception of a nobody that I am, no good Much as I tried, I could not as my heart was stuck in Thoughts of balancing the rich, their ill-manners to the poor   But factuality reigns at such time and clime, When reality compliments or trumps preconception To smithereens for the deeds like his accomplishments All eyes that care can see in bricks and mortar as with Others feeding at his tables or picking crumbs benefit.   As soft and relaxed as a peaceful night can be He reigns in total control of his dwelling place And as comfortable as, like the robed rose The master he looked on his magnificent slab Before a simple yet sumptuous breakfast   Chief Ade-Ojo is the rare raindrop among the rich Descent bloc among polluting publicity itching others That with the crown and bags of money majesty Gouge with looks every poor looking sou

 Mind Your Language: So, why do you need to mind your language? Do you know how it is that things you say can have an impact on people around you as well as your wellbeing and growth? Have you seriously given thoughts to the fact that the language you use in your social life is very, very crucial in building or destroying your relationship, on occasion irreparably? We often do not give deep thought to the implications of what we say to others and their impact. We would not see in most circumstances that our language is a part of the overall production of meanings in our social relationships. But they are crucial and critical aspects of our relationship. The use of language is much more than a matter of using either when it is applied in talk or writing per se. The use of language can build or chisel the foundational blocks of any and every relationship. And that use as part of the discussion is what I intend to analyse as discourse. So, as an introductory statement of meaning, what is

People draw lines and privileges rules Who belongs is based on content that Sometimes are determined by the weight Of your pocket personality or potty bank Only he called Obatoyinbo junior Mr. Hutzpa Would not give an ado about what status  Make you eligible for considerations of who Ought and can be part of his inner circle Now it seems, his apostles trends his ideals And, luckily I’m at in line rather than outside And that I consider privilege nearly forgotten Grateful I’m the eminence brotherhood rules This Inner Circle is not about fear or exclusion But about synchronising our hearts as minds.

You are so young a nymph I see through To make me want to wrap you in blanket Keep you warm from cold reach of prying eyes Umbrella keeping you from so many early wets So you waste not bits of warmth and hope A preserve meant for your time in future when Life feeds you stormy ageing as fading beauty If only I be the one longed to take your hands But I cannot be for I have a conflicting crotch.

  Like the steel door closed, until all noise are no more Human, plants, animals, properties, fine or beastly Like all come to dark when silence reins in; light out That neither tumbles, lightening, waves, wails nor roars changes But still, death is nought but metaphorical; a simple symbolism  Humans come, love and live in a time and space then give Or plants that grows, serves; consumed or rot to nought Like breeze that touches passing; sweet but moves on Like morning turns afternoon then evening that must scheduled In this fountain called world, we are like but as in willow Death we call it for convenience stands for taking turns A placative metaphorical euphemism for moral riddance