delalorm fiaka

When i stepped into the ring..
i didn't aim to fight..i came to win..
when i heard the commencing bell ring...
on the crown i set my sights...complacency in the bin..
...

Who turned out the lights?
Whose bellowing rants faded out the desolate cries?
Who impeded my sights?
Making my bright vision a bleak mirage.
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We heave and leave our chests to drop
Perceive a sieve to be a net
Conceal with zeal the real and yet
Bellow and yell at traps self-set
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Who will you be when your clothes are gone?
who will you be when the moths of time become skin borne?
Who will you be in a month's time? a month older i guess? and till u bid vanities farewell, a month less.
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Why should i quiver?
Why should my faith even waver?
Why should i fear a purposeless stranger in my pursuits?
Why should there be even a strand of resentment?
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Tell me who I am not and I will tell you whether you ought to be scrutinising who I am not or you ought to have first sought to be who you are not so you can hold the lamp, being the finder of the path...
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BREAKING NEWS; Koromoti goes on strike! ! ! ! !
Robert, Yahya and Mswati seem unconcerned..
Greek mythology greets our selective psychology..
Are you crazy? its called DEMOCRACY..
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When your vocal chords contract in choruses of distress...
when semi-breves of laughter are just semi brief moments of mockery tainted joy....
when good times are but fantasies and misfortune seeks to impress...
when all seems pointless..and your existence seems coy...
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Lets say its outrageous and forget about it..
lets say its gorgeous and swarm around it..
lets say its stupendous and incarcerate our imaginations from it..
lets say its contagious and abhor it...
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They can't see our sunshine
They don't know our blues..
To the world I am yours and you are mine..
Clues of bliss adorn our cruise..
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let gin concur with soil..
as we paddle across the gorges to the lands preceding our umbilical cords..
let gin concur with soil..
as we regurgitate the the sumptuous delicacies that fed the mouths of the gods..
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Xylophone melody
Gramophone memory
Homophone vocabulary
With a heart streaming with bliss I reminisce the soothing sound of your lullabies..
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Everyone has that someone..
that someone who is the one who makes you want to wave a nonexistent magic wand.
that someone so unreal that their one tingly touch puts your senses on a reel..
that someone whose shadows are more admirable to you than the rainbow..
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ALL THE DAYS OF MY LIFE...

Sand dunes and sad tunes..adieus and 'I love you's..
Hold me and I'll hold you..let's cling to each other with no clue..
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Pulmonary arteries proportionally prune pressure
As timid tenants search their skulls for treasure
For the weary an exercise of pleasure
For they who chose leisure, a non-recusant torture measure
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Through the valleys of every dusk flows a dawn
Around the necks of our existence, the pearls of time gladly adorn
The treasure which chronometers measure.......
....grips our days and carves out our ways
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A walk in the park? ..i beg your pardon.. a walk in the stark serene or rather dark terrain of our supposed emancipation..the twilight is forthcoming..maybe after the fourth coming of Christ! ... maybe after we collude with our clandestine consciences and choreograph incandescent crescent waves of simple virtue... rescue the residue of the colloid we colluded with the immiscible missiles miscellaneously launched on our habitat of virtue..
How about we hold out our hearts on the pitchforks of our deeds? ?
how about we hold up the carts in which we take the twitch hikes to the land of greed? ?
how about today you be me and i be you? NO! how about i be you and you be me? ? how about you be you and me? ?
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I salute you not...
on your sheet of freedom i fail to find a single blot..
the slightest splatter of on the pact that in fact further reseeded you deeper into the shackles of your stagnation...
resignation, indignation, exclusion, ferocious yet toothless nations..
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The nile has been provoked
With contempt its calm waters have been forcefully choked
A rod of malice continually poked
The pupils of the populace, shredding sanity’s cloak
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It hurts, it burns, pure agony it churns
In pits pitch black it tosses and turns
For your foot’s trip and your fortune’s dip it eagerly yearns
Flourishing uninvited among life’s blossoming ferns
...