Palm oil on my shirt
Okin biscuit in my pocket
On my way to school
Not a care in the world
I had forty Naira in my hands
A stroll on Zambia road
Barnawa shone bright in the morning
capturing future memories through writing
Palm oil on my shirt
Okin biscuit in my pocket
On my way to school
Not a care in the world
I had forty Naira in my hands
A stroll on Zambia road
Barnawa shone bright in the morning
He is the light to her day
The laughter to her jokes
Her white knight in the dark
Her escape route
Her soldier in war
Her supernova
He was her peace of mind.
The man in her dreams
The clock strikes
The girls bite
Pinch and tease
Leaving their trademarks
Drama queens
In need of attention
Like always, I run
I run past them
Girls that bite
Some I dance with
A few I touch
The ring of the bell,
Then, itβs all over again
After he had got bitten to death by the once seemingly sane hedge-hog, the yellow squirrel returned from the underworld only to receive an interesting call.
βHello, my name is Mr. Hedge-hog. I am calling on behalf of Zerrazen. Am I speaking to Mr. Yellow Squirrel?β
βYes you are,β replied Mr. Yellow Squirrel.
βWell sir, I am contacting you in regards to a past due balance on your account.β
βYes, I know, but I could not pay my bills on time because at that time I was M.I.A.β
βOh yes sir, it says on your bill, that you are currently in transition to becoming a fully fledged zombie, and we at Zerrazen take that seriously.β
βWell, if you or Zerrazen really understood my situation, you all should also know that getting a job in my current state is practically impossible. I mean everyone keeps running away from me, itβs like Iβm cursed.β
βWell sir, you are a zombie in transition, I mean youβre practically not alive.β
βDo you think I donβt know that? I am freaking dead walking yellow squirrel.β
βI understand your situation Sir, if I was bitten by a zombie Hedge-hog, I too would be fuming.β
βArgh argh argh argh argh rah argh rah rah awrrrrrrr rahhhhhhhhhhhβ
βSir, are you there?β
βArghhh rah argh rah arghhh rah rah rah awrrrr rahhhhhhβ
βSir, oh my, what a pity, there goes another Zerrazen customer. He didnβt even get to pay his past due bill.β
The hedge-hog quietly dropped the phone and sighed. βTypical of a yellow squirrelβ

If you may, allow me to let you in on a little secret. Where may I begin? Right here, I guess. You see, I have these several, several dreams, many of which I almost never seem to wake up from. In between these episodes, I reach far deep into where I want to be in life. And, every time I try to wake up into my dream, the path becomes nothing more than a scene of an empty room stinking with the smell of vintage books. Sometimes, I try to trick the Queen in my dreams, but her knowledge knows no bound. She told me to break, to break, I must amend, and to amend, I must seek the red bird.
So I tell her βWhere do I find this bird?β
βIn freedom,β she said, βA place lacking mannered discontent.β
So back there, I went.
Back here, there is nothing, but the empty smiles I receive; faces loosely cringed and plastered together with false hope. Yet again, I am filled with great disappointment.
βThese faces have no answers!β I shout.
Faces after faces, I tear away and amend the missing scraps, hoping to find that one bird. The days go brighter and longer; refusing to give into the darker times.
Like a perfect time, I fall right into the sands of time. With rain falling, and the moon shining, I found her. The red bird looking down on me welcomed me with a tune. To my utter astonishment the red bird cried these words to me.
βYou fool! All you needed was to fall. All along, I waited by the Iroko tree, night after night.β
After all had been resolved, I and the red bird fly back there without much haste. In my state of equanimity, I quietly hoped I had found my cure because, I badly wanted rid myself of melancholy.
So back there, we went.
Back there, where leeway was abundant, and the bird played her tune with much ease.
The game of rags and black water
Higher and much lower they go
Always seeking the tops of this and that
Flapping their dirt to those who dare to look
Always holding on onto vane vanity
Donβt we all?
They fear the fear of death
The truth keeps on missing its mark
Idolized Decadence
Paths full with shattered dreams
A requiem for the elected rich
Misery for the mass
A new day, we must seek
A new day, we must pray
A new day, I must write
Full with mistakes
Hoping I can correct and rightfully direct my ways
Fully displayed with red
All over, painted with distaste
A man only cries when all is never enough
When failing, is all that is left or right
We all have a savior we must find
In flesh, I must write
The topic never passing mystery
A mistake
Another mystery
Again I fall, failing to land
So where is my own savior?
In flesh, I must write
Must I fail twice over?
Maybe till I hear that voice of redemption
I am tired of this place,
A place filled with thorns and rocks
So I say where is my own answer to all these misdirected steps?
In flesh, I must say
Take it all,
All I want is you to find me
Finding you, find me
Standing alone is a lonely business
Only the night can tell how sad the tale is
So I need you, another again
In this place
In flesh or in love, I must say

I still wonder why you like the room lit so dim. I can hardly see you when you cry. If you let go of my grip, theΒ scene of misery will last on forever. Hold on tighter. Drag my rags closer to your shattered chest. Pierce deep into my skin; pain always tasted so bittersweet. Our time lasted only till the sound of the bird.
A mockingbird, indeed
Too soon enough to begin, I guess?
With my taste buds gone sour, I shut off those twisted tunes and threw them deep into the skies; far away, where those spacemen could only dream of. A secret place you might know of. I never ever forgot about those long delusional days filled with gifted silence and much red.
Will I ever taste sweet again?
Too much sourness
Stop this or I might bleed out
Drowning in my own feelings
Looking up at the river-like sky
Oh great blue monster, cry down your own worries
So that I may drink and sink.
So they say you speak no more of me. I strived hard to wait for another word from your big egotistical book. I hoped to dream into the realization that it was never ever to begin.
Bombs I left untouched
Scattered there and here
Some by your place
Falling down
Your hair ever so bright
So they say you speak no more of me.
I strived and strived to begin at the beginning.
Always seeking, and never asking
So they say you speak no more of me
I say you talk shit
In this bright future you can’t forget your past
Instigating a "Mental Revolution"
Unleashing the beauty of creativity
seeking solace in the horizon of life and beyond
Aspiring to be the best at writing. Poetry lover, haiku and free verse to be precise, I hope to one day master
The Mystery, Motivation and Mastery of Life
Some of what I breathe out arrives here
keeping It 100 With You
Sometimes poetry gives you the voice
Poets bleed from the heart and soul
Daily Film & Screenplay Festivals in Toronto, New York City, Chicago & Los Angeles.
Director | Writer | Cinematographer
π Fully Living The Unfinished Things Of Life Through Writings. π
Prime my subconscious, one hint at a time
A Frequent Blog of Devotionals Inspired by A Course in Miracles, A Course of Love, The Way of Mastery, Choose Only Love--Plus More . . . with Celia Hales - https://www.amazon.com/author/celiahales