Rudolph Adidi Poems

Love, that four letter-word whose meaning remains obscured as ever too many. Love finds comfortable seats in our hearts, and its manifestations in us are easily discernable. When in love you are always happy and want to live life to its fullest. It is opposite when you are the jilted lover. For those not jilted over yet, you have not learned the whole lessons about love. Only after you are kicked out of a relationship will you be considered a true witness to the joys and sorrows of love. For love is like a grapefruit it taste sweet first, bitter later.
Assuming you're the jilted lover in question, then your feelings can be captured by all the negative adjectives that jump to mind; hurt, resentful, murderous…. And in addition, you can spend eternity wondering why that special someone will never return your love despite all your efforts. Of course the feelings are the same if the jilted lover is in me or the other person. For many love is the tonic that enhances their success in life.
Love is also what pushes us out of our way just to please someone or principles, bend our rules, and in some sad cases, we find ourselves groveling to satisfy someone we love. Yet, in most cases, our claims to being in love are false, plain hogwash. The dividing line between love and compassion is so thin that we often misconstrue compassion to be in love from the beginning of time, there has never been love in its purest form. (Adam and Eve probably loved each other because they had no alternatives) . What has always existed is motivated love.
Good looks, cars, money are some of the motivations that make us ‘fall in love' with the person who possesses those qualities. Relationships, marriages break up easily because they were formed on the foundation of compassion, and not sublime, unmotivated love. The subject about love is inexhaustible, and the deeper you probe into it, the more bewildered you become, Its meaning so difficult to grasp that Shakespeare once remarked "Love is merely a madness", and I tell you, it deserves as well as a dark house and a whip as madmen do: and the reason why they are not so punished and cured is the lunacy is so ordinary that the whispers are in love too.
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MY BLANKET STINKS OF LOVE
I didn't think earth lived like this
only to borrow an emotion from the vault of heaven.
So sweetly called and nicely worn in letters - love,
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It beats as the rythm of thoughts rows its brain,
It bleeds blood of unending pain.
Albeit it never shares the gain it suffers from,
it lets thoughts dance in it even during nights of prom.
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Roaming in the wilderness of
Loneliness,
thoughts of prime love was
now at the edge of stiffness.
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I, running away in the forest of thoughts so full of pleasent uniqueness.
I, crying in the waters showering tears to the earth of gorgeousness.
My heart in heights defined by an emotion adorned to be meaningless in confused highness.
I mourn for thou unending love to erupt those spirits of purity.
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As still as Night
I sat in my room
Reminiscing how my friendship lit up a forest to its dust
All I hear are humour of crickets
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Weighed by vengeful thoughts to enthrone a thousand consciences
I walked in streets of virginity, with stereos of hypocrisy pulling my pulse to strains of tense
If I listened to you, you'll only send me packing away with shame and a mark known
My blood is boiling to a brim of pleasure stewed to fill the marrow of my bone
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