Adeosun Olamide

Adeosun Olamide Quotes

  • ''And I know you would not always be beautiful, and I know you would not always be.''
    A Traveller
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  • ''And if you would come in my sleep, then I shall sleep evermore.''
    A Traveller
  • ''You are not indispensable.''
    A Traveller
  • ''And know too that my eyes is thirsty for your words, to belong in your feeling - to be elated in it, to drown in it.''
    A Traveller
  • ''Some things don't pass, we die in them.''
    A Traveller
  • ''We upon a brink do seem a depth, we forgotten in hell do sing of angels, we cursed, forbidden from sleep - do sing the lullabies.''
    A Traveller
  • ''Soon, soon we shall begin to hear, first as a whispher- then as a clamor- the woman is the father of the house, the woman fathers the home, Mary is my father, Hillary is my father, Elizabeth is my father, Ada is my father, and we shall hear too- Paul is my mother, Stephen is my mother, Colbert is my mother. #All a social construct.''
    A Traveller
  • ''Now the word 'woman' is a social construction just well. It makes no sense distinguishing only across gender sense. The feminist in us don't despise being a woman, it despises the meaning attached to it, so we hold our heads and stop bowing, in a long sudden, we don't want to be a man but we want the meaning that comes with it, that is what we want to be.''
    A Traveller
  • ''We must remember the beautiful people. those who with their rags, their looks - reminds us still of the void inherent in us.''
    A Traveller
  • ''My friend, I'm sorry you would die and I will dance. Do so- yourself.''
    A Traveller

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Best Poem of Adeosun Olamide

Season Of The Coffin Makers

Out here in mist, a virgin widow
With coffin just wedded husband
He died of laughter, she says
That was pure, untouched

In here the mist, a virgin mother
With coffin just wedded daughter
She died of syphilis, she hears
As priest turns her away

Out there in paradise town, a candle light
With coffin of virgin mother
She died of laughter, all says
That twitch sprouts in head hers

And silence in the cathedral
Out here beneath mist
The coffin of its priest
A veiled rapist night before shot- heard

Read the full of Season Of The Coffin Makers

Mides Note

Gently the brook that babbled by did in stillness
Daffodils tossed by the genteel breeze blemishes
witheringly bent,
Silence and fear cuddled, raped and caressed the
angered land,
And all that was heard were whispers of pule
without lament.

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