Right from the rising of the sun,
Time crawls like the stepping of chameleon.
The moon laughs at the anxiety in these eyes;
Doors of days shut too sluggishly.
With this missing lass I could beat my chest.
The warmth of her breast will keep me mellow,
This promising lips like the honey flavour I swallow;
And her sacred harbour unleashing favour.
I could hold my stomach seven days for tonight to last forever.
If I could but make the sun still ten years before the birth of Joshua,
There'll be no darkness tonight;
And I'll be by your side lightening up tonight.
The tides of loneliness beats my might,
No place for time's flight!
Can someone tell with wisdom,
The prince of her kingdom?
Dare not point accusing finger at me!
Ha! I'm worthy not of this adorable foresight;
And when would she give me a place to peruse her insight?
Maybe I should try, with consciousness, to invade her hindsight.
I can't wait any longer!
26.4.11
20.4.11
VOICE OF THE GODS
Search your spirit,
Search your heart,
Give an ear to the still little voice;
And you'll find that the things I counsel you of are what make man a living being.
Search my life,
Check my ways,
Give an eye to the path I trend;
And you'll find that the things I chasten you of aren't of the council of my strengths.
It's the realm into which I strive also to dive, to make the future a haven.
Maybe I'm worse than you could picture,
But more zealous than chancy to build a nature with chancel.
What I do?
I open you up to the realm of knowledge and good judgement and give you a momentum.
Bottom line?
I flow not in my ideas,but give to you what the spirit gave to prepare you for autumn.
Wisdom isn't a guarantee for perfection,and
Good judgement warrants not success.
Give not ears but mind to counsels,
And take not your offering far from chancel.
Let your eyes see beyond the dancing lips of your counsellor;
For he's only but an oracle of the gods.
And also of a fluctuating and imperfect mental faculty like a dude.
So,listen,look and learn.
Search your heart,
Give an ear to the still little voice;
And you'll find that the things I counsel you of are what make man a living being.
Search my life,
Check my ways,
Give an eye to the path I trend;
And you'll find that the things I chasten you of aren't of the council of my strengths.
It's the realm into which I strive also to dive, to make the future a haven.
Maybe I'm worse than you could picture,
But more zealous than chancy to build a nature with chancel.
What I do?
I open you up to the realm of knowledge and good judgement and give you a momentum.
Bottom line?
I flow not in my ideas,but give to you what the spirit gave to prepare you for autumn.
Wisdom isn't a guarantee for perfection,and
Good judgement warrants not success.
Give not ears but mind to counsels,
And take not your offering far from chancel.
Let your eyes see beyond the dancing lips of your counsellor;
For he's only but an oracle of the gods.
And also of a fluctuating and imperfect mental faculty like a dude.
So,listen,look and learn.
HEART WITHOUT LOVE
Deep down the mind;the yearning of incredibility.
Once an offer of a brotherly love,affection and responsibility.
But what can a love,void of romance,for a damsel of absolute glamour bore if not clamour for a desire.
To another in a time smile,a hand of loft,romance, appreciation and satisfaction.
But intimidation,mistaken desire and remorse could not be unexpected when love but not loved.
Alas!
The heart of the matter is a matter of the heart.
But at last buttered a part of his empire,love,affection,intimacy,romance and appreciation.
Yea!
Where's the place of pride when love is concerned?
The love of a woman is better built with attires and not desire.
How can a prince rule the kingdom of a female monarch on the claims of dos and don'ts?For he must perspire.
Bumps of the lips,hills of the chest and the thicket of the lowland-valley.
Things better acquired with love now cry for rents.
The only thing no one ever can utter or offer enough is love;but love is unfair to the fearless.
Once an offer of a brotherly love,affection and responsibility.
But what can a love,void of romance,for a damsel of absolute glamour bore if not clamour for a desire.
To another in a time smile,a hand of loft,romance, appreciation and satisfaction.
But intimidation,mistaken desire and remorse could not be unexpected when love but not loved.
Alas!
The heart of the matter is a matter of the heart.
But at last buttered a part of his empire,love,affection,intimacy,romance and appreciation.
Yea!
Where's the place of pride when love is concerned?
The love of a woman is better built with attires and not desire.
How can a prince rule the kingdom of a female monarch on the claims of dos and don'ts?For he must perspire.
Bumps of the lips,hills of the chest and the thicket of the lowland-valley.
Things better acquired with love now cry for rents.
The only thing no one ever can utter or offer enough is love;but love is unfair to the fearless.
TO WHOM MUCH IS GIVEN
True! 'Being early plucked is sour to taste.'
How fulfilled man could have been,and not in haste;
But for him the tongue choose death and a brief breath,pieced together with paste.
Give no 'Eve's answer',
Let your yes,yes and no,no.
Greediness!
And why would they fight over one when many unplucked?
But to put Him to the test!
Or aren't there more to go a dozen to each mate?
For we could see better than swimming in this jest;
And die earlier than eighteen.
There'd be no cancer,menopause,or pain in the chest.
Hmm! If men were God, what a wrath that would befall humanity.
But now we are youths even at a hundred;and endowmed with power for creativity.
Mercy! '...hath begotten us again into lively hope...'
But '...whomsoever much is given,of him shall be much required...'
How fulfilled man could have been,and not in haste;
But for him the tongue choose death and a brief breath,pieced together with paste.
Give no 'Eve's answer',
Let your yes,yes and no,no.
Greediness!
And why would they fight over one when many unplucked?
But to put Him to the test!
Or aren't there more to go a dozen to each mate?
For we could see better than swimming in this jest;
And die earlier than eighteen.
There'd be no cancer,menopause,or pain in the chest.
Hmm! If men were God, what a wrath that would befall humanity.
But now we are youths even at a hundred;and endowmed with power for creativity.
Mercy! '...hath begotten us again into lively hope...'
But '...whomsoever much is given,of him shall be much required...'
HEROES ARE NOT BORN IN OUR DAYS
Eh! The mouldy walls that bore our fences have stripped us naked.
Those with swollen chest that usually defend us are no more;and the children of 'Agbete' that dare not look us in the face have come out as men.
Who'll wear the battle shoes of our fathers and take the horse by the bridle.
Who'll continue the good fight when Mandela pass through a riddle.
The rod,that 'Menosa' shepherd us with,is lying idle.
Heroes are not born in our days!
Who's it that's to go to the great beyond?
When you get there,tell our heroes past to be patient with us.
Tell them that their footprint is washing away;their handwriting fading so quickly.
That no youngman wants to pay the price for anything.
Don't forget to tell the great mothers that the household of mothers is now the household of murders;
No easy passage for the heroes unborn.
Heroes are not born in our days!
And should you be given a green ticket,ensure you pay homage to the great inventors.
Tell them that the path they paved for invention is long lost;
No one with the cold feet to trend it.
Even the self-governance,for which they ran out their blood,is now an instrument for self-fulfilment.
The sons of 'Semawo' that couldn't climb even the middle of the tall 'ugwo' tree,while others at the top,now walk the streets with the staff of honour.
No prophet to tell what tomorrow would bear;
Because heroes are not born in our days!
Those with swollen chest that usually defend us are no more;and the children of 'Agbete' that dare not look us in the face have come out as men.
Who'll wear the battle shoes of our fathers and take the horse by the bridle.
Who'll continue the good fight when Mandela pass through a riddle.
The rod,that 'Menosa' shepherd us with,is lying idle.
Heroes are not born in our days!
Who's it that's to go to the great beyond?
When you get there,tell our heroes past to be patient with us.
Tell them that their footprint is washing away;their handwriting fading so quickly.
That no youngman wants to pay the price for anything.
Don't forget to tell the great mothers that the household of mothers is now the household of murders;
No easy passage for the heroes unborn.
Heroes are not born in our days!
And should you be given a green ticket,ensure you pay homage to the great inventors.
Tell them that the path they paved for invention is long lost;
No one with the cold feet to trend it.
Even the self-governance,for which they ran out their blood,is now an instrument for self-fulfilment.
The sons of 'Semawo' that couldn't climb even the middle of the tall 'ugwo' tree,while others at the top,now walk the streets with the staff of honour.
No prophet to tell what tomorrow would bear;
Because heroes are not born in our days!
18.4.11
Ungrateful Generation Of Mine
Ganges is a regular zone for intimacy and rolling on rugs.
Being lost in fondness we gist and laugh out our wrongs;
The blushing of the cheeks brings better breathing air to the lungs.
Even the horrors are done in full consciousness with mutual alert and more hugs;
For no need bother about red alert or bed bugs
And never a cause to be sad as the root of true emotions isn't in sand.
Struggles in no existence, in that the force of love is a force of life we've at hand.
The taste of love makes better health,
And the diet, long live thereof.
Living in no love is like eating with no water to flush
And even in dictionary, love counts before lust.
But this ungrateful generation of mine seems lost!
All felt and dreamt begins from the heart,
Never how much we do the things done,
But how much love buttered.
Alas!
Love's set on decay mission in this ungrateful generation of mine
And none bothered;
Prostitution is a venture among the Eves,
Promiscuity a way of life for the Adams,
Immorality takes the central bench in our law scroll
And no one calls for order.
But in all that glitters,
A good like is rather to be choosen than unfaithful love and body hawk.
Surplus is the supply since the demand for love, in love, hit the rock.
And so ungrateful is this generation of mine!
To him still on the verge,
When you visit the estate of love, take heed;
For lust is a neighbour.
Out of the bee is sweet and sting,
The same flesh of large heart like the sycamore
Breeds even lust, or love with no strings,
And only the chosen can tell the dividing-line while sing for more;
For it's as thin as that separating sleep and death.
As you drink of it overflow
Let it flow of it accord to make an obvious show,
Let it take it place and mount the throne long set for it,
Even before your first sight.
Caution!
The currency for love can't be erotica overnight,
Be sure to shrink from worldly cares
And stick to what you share.
Above all, walk not in the path of this ungrateful generation of mine.rt and more hugs;
For no need bother about red alert or bed bugs
And never a cause to be sad as the root of true emotions isn't in sand.
Struggles in no existence, in that the force of love is a force of life we've at hand.
The taste of love makes better health,
And the diet, long live thereof.
Living in no love is like eating with no water to flush
And even in dictionary, love counts before lust.
But this ungrateful generation of mine seems lost!
All felt and dreamt begins from the heart,
Never how much we do the things done,
But how much love buttered.
Alas!
Love's set on decay mission in this ungrateful generation of mine
And none bothered;
Prostitution is a venture among the Eves,
Promiscuity a way of life for the Adams,
Immorality takes the central bench in our law scroll
And no one calls for order.
But in all that glitters,
A good like is rather to be choosen than unfaithful love and body hawk.
Surplus is the supply since the demand for love, in love, hit the rock.
And so ungrateful is this generation of mine!
To him still on the verge,
When you visit the estate of love, take heed;
For lust is a neighbour.
Out of the bee is sweet and sting,
The same flesh of large heart like the sycamore
Breeds even lust, or love with no strings,
And only the chosen can tell the dividing-line while sing for more;
For it's as thin as that separating sleep and death.
As you drink of it overflow
Let it flow of it accord to make an obvious show,
Let it take it place and mount the throne long set for it,
Even before your first sight.
Caution!
The currency for love can't be erotica overnight,
Be sure to shrink from worldly cares
And stick to what you share.
Above all, walk not in the path of this ungrateful generation of mine.
Being lost in fondness we gist and laugh out our wrongs;
The blushing of the cheeks brings better breathing air to the lungs.
Even the horrors are done in full consciousness with mutual alert and more hugs;
For no need bother about red alert or bed bugs
And never a cause to be sad as the root of true emotions isn't in sand.
Struggles in no existence, in that the force of love is a force of life we've at hand.
The taste of love makes better health,
And the diet, long live thereof.
Living in no love is like eating with no water to flush
And even in dictionary, love counts before lust.
But this ungrateful generation of mine seems lost!
All felt and dreamt begins from the heart,
Never how much we do the things done,
But how much love buttered.
Alas!
Love's set on decay mission in this ungrateful generation of mine
And none bothered;
Prostitution is a venture among the Eves,
Promiscuity a way of life for the Adams,
Immorality takes the central bench in our law scroll
And no one calls for order.
But in all that glitters,
A good like is rather to be choosen than unfaithful love and body hawk.
Surplus is the supply since the demand for love, in love, hit the rock.
And so ungrateful is this generation of mine!
To him still on the verge,
When you visit the estate of love, take heed;
For lust is a neighbour.
Out of the bee is sweet and sting,
The same flesh of large heart like the sycamore
Breeds even lust, or love with no strings,
And only the chosen can tell the dividing-line while sing for more;
For it's as thin as that separating sleep and death.
As you drink of it overflow
Let it flow of it accord to make an obvious show,
Let it take it place and mount the throne long set for it,
Even before your first sight.
Caution!
The currency for love can't be erotica overnight,
Be sure to shrink from worldly cares
And stick to what you share.
Above all, walk not in the path of this ungrateful generation of mine.rt and more hugs;
For no need bother about red alert or bed bugs
And never a cause to be sad as the root of true emotions isn't in sand.
Struggles in no existence, in that the force of love is a force of life we've at hand.
The taste of love makes better health,
And the diet, long live thereof.
Living in no love is like eating with no water to flush
And even in dictionary, love counts before lust.
But this ungrateful generation of mine seems lost!
All felt and dreamt begins from the heart,
Never how much we do the things done,
But how much love buttered.
Alas!
Love's set on decay mission in this ungrateful generation of mine
And none bothered;
Prostitution is a venture among the Eves,
Promiscuity a way of life for the Adams,
Immorality takes the central bench in our law scroll
And no one calls for order.
But in all that glitters,
A good like is rather to be choosen than unfaithful love and body hawk.
Surplus is the supply since the demand for love, in love, hit the rock.
And so ungrateful is this generation of mine!
To him still on the verge,
When you visit the estate of love, take heed;
For lust is a neighbour.
Out of the bee is sweet and sting,
The same flesh of large heart like the sycamore
Breeds even lust, or love with no strings,
And only the chosen can tell the dividing-line while sing for more;
For it's as thin as that separating sleep and death.
As you drink of it overflow
Let it flow of it accord to make an obvious show,
Let it take it place and mount the throne long set for it,
Even before your first sight.
Caution!
The currency for love can't be erotica overnight,
Be sure to shrink from worldly cares
And stick to what you share.
Above all, walk not in the path of this ungrateful generation of mine.
12.4.11
A LETTER TO MY MOTHER
This day awakens enviable smile on your face.
Time after time you look into my eyes and smile, laying me on a lace.
In a number of decades back, troubled by the kicking behind your navel but you can't chase;
It was an evidence of awaiting good tidings.
So many a time have I tried to shine the light;
And to show the impetus behind my hard-kick,
But you were too fulfilled to take my hike.
And now another measure you've added to my feeds,
For my gracious creator grants me more years than I've lived.
But at this cycle I beg your indulgence to solo.
Mother!
I knew my today from yesterday.
How sorry that I'd to kick so hard and soil your day;
But was only trying to send a message to the land set before me.
Trying to let you know I was right within you,
Waiting to be born and breed in your hands.
And you knew no sorrow but it was hard.
Never forget I once gave you stress-out, and that's when you realised my sensitivity.
The day I refused custard for pap,
Splashing cow milk on your face, and all I desired was your milk pipe.
What I wanted I knew;cow milk is to animals, as custard lacks my nutrients.
And on arrival, you needed no midwifery.
What a blast of smile when you beheld me; and your hands cracking laughter instead of a cry of suffering.
It shown how much my world've expected me.
Though I tried looking on the outside in four months of inhabiting you, but the bones in my flesh needed more time.
I know you wondered I was in haste to behold this world of wild wield.
That I intend to let into the wind;
In your eyes it was so loud, how your heart murmur,
In the midst of falling morality my horn is help high.
Uhh!
Before the earthly journey, my princess I knew.
While driven by the umbilical cord I received a telegram that she was to be born sixty-two days of my arrival,
Some streets from my new home.
I knew my today from that day!
Why an offer of friendship, love withou lust, the damsels before now know not.
And letting her grow into a woman, good to look upon, I battled.
Now she's all around me, with a bangle.
How right the hand-pick, you bother.
Behold the road that cut between her front teeth, her hirsute skin and fair lips, have my heart aroused.
What we've is born of eternity and we shine the light.
Mother! Take care of her, My Fut. 4 Real and my Princess, till I come to fulfil her rights.
You're always in my heart, my "B".
DEDICATED TO:
The two wonderful women in my life (my Mother and my "B").
SENT FROM: My birthday.
Time after time you look into my eyes and smile, laying me on a lace.
In a number of decades back, troubled by the kicking behind your navel but you can't chase;
It was an evidence of awaiting good tidings.
So many a time have I tried to shine the light;
And to show the impetus behind my hard-kick,
But you were too fulfilled to take my hike.
And now another measure you've added to my feeds,
For my gracious creator grants me more years than I've lived.
But at this cycle I beg your indulgence to solo.
Mother!
I knew my today from yesterday.
How sorry that I'd to kick so hard and soil your day;
But was only trying to send a message to the land set before me.
Trying to let you know I was right within you,
Waiting to be born and breed in your hands.
And you knew no sorrow but it was hard.
Never forget I once gave you stress-out, and that's when you realised my sensitivity.
The day I refused custard for pap,
Splashing cow milk on your face, and all I desired was your milk pipe.
What I wanted I knew;cow milk is to animals, as custard lacks my nutrients.
And on arrival, you needed no midwifery.
What a blast of smile when you beheld me; and your hands cracking laughter instead of a cry of suffering.
It shown how much my world've expected me.
Though I tried looking on the outside in four months of inhabiting you, but the bones in my flesh needed more time.
I know you wondered I was in haste to behold this world of wild wield.
That I intend to let into the wind;
In your eyes it was so loud, how your heart murmur,
In the midst of falling morality my horn is help high.
Uhh!
Before the earthly journey, my princess I knew.
While driven by the umbilical cord I received a telegram that she was to be born sixty-two days of my arrival,
Some streets from my new home.
I knew my today from that day!
Why an offer of friendship, love withou lust, the damsels before now know not.
And letting her grow into a woman, good to look upon, I battled.
Now she's all around me, with a bangle.
How right the hand-pick, you bother.
Behold the road that cut between her front teeth, her hirsute skin and fair lips, have my heart aroused.
What we've is born of eternity and we shine the light.
Mother! Take care of her, My Fut. 4 Real and my Princess, till I come to fulfil her rights.
You're always in my heart, my "B".
DEDICATED TO:
The two wonderful women in my life (my Mother and my "B").
SENT FROM: My birthday.
10.4.11
My Virtuous Woman
Last time I saw a damsel, virgin she was,
I knew it was true but she wasn't so good to look upon
So I went for her.
Black beauty and I knew what was to be done
So I showed her love;
For in the household of good look pretty is a sibling.
I love her so much for she's my virtuous woman.
Spiritally edified,
Emotionally certified,
Her heart like that of Ruth
And what I felt, showed her the root;
For I knew she would make a good wife,
Being by my side a whole life.
But before my very eyes she was laid to rest,
Leaving my world rattled into pieces.
If tears could give her life back,
The ocean that flew down my cheeks would make her live longer than Noah.
The wound is healed
And the fire in my heart rekindled.
But this time I sipped beauty.
She was almost hard a nut to crack
But my virtuous woman taught me woman's things:
Clothe and make a lass look good,
She's at your beck and call;
Propose marriage to a single lady,
She has your spare-key,
And should you give a child to a newly married,
Your dinner's ready before evening.
So I won her by a price.
Spiritually effaced,
Emotionally crucified,
Her heart like that of Jezebel.
And what I had for her, not so bad;
For I knew she would make a rude wife,
Laughing at my flaws as ex-wife.
Life in itself a risk!
So I asked to marry her,
But she wanted to be a lawyer before embracing the kitchen.
O yea daughter of Adam!
The creator made marriage for no paper requirements
But for compatibility and love.
A life long choice many before you sorrowed;
For beauty isn't a qualification to hallow,
Even the most beautiful ones of our time still lay waste in the streets.
How do we keep falling into this same pit that spills our blood
With our hearts bleeding?
You make rents of your most valuable assets
And forget the journey set before you is needing.
As you toll for today's success
Better days you darken;
For depreciation is no ally with your flesh.
I've seen marriages crumble in honey-moon
For fear of infidelity.
There's no competition in being different;
It's lonely a journey worthy of your mind and might.
Timing it's;
For no qualification can win in this fight!
And time neither waits nor wastes
But you wait and waste.
How I've missed my virtuous woman.Last time I saw a damsel, virgin she was,
I knew it was true but she wasn't so good to look upon
So I went for her.
Black beauty and I knew what was to be done
So I showed her love;
For in the household of good look pretty is a sibling.
I love her so much for she's my virtuous woman.
Spiritally edified,
Emotionally certified,
Her heart like that of Ruth
And what I felt, showed her the root;
For I knew she would make a good wife,
Being by my side a whole life.
But before my very eyes she was laid to rest,
Leaving my world rattled into pieces.
If tears could give her life back,
The ocean that flew down my cheeks would make her live longer than Noah.
The wound is healed
And the fire in my heart rekindled.
But this time I sipped beauty.
She was almost hard a nut to crack
But my virtuous woman taught me woman's things:
Clothe and make a lass look good,
She's at your beck and call;
Propose marriage to a single lady,
She has your spare-key,
And should you give a child to a newly married,
Your dinner's ready before evening.
So I won her by a price.
Spiritually effaced,
Emotionally crucified,
Her heart like that of Jezebel.
And what I had for her, not so bad;
For I knew she would make a rude wife,
Laughing at my flaws as ex-wife.
Life in itself a risk!
So I asked to marry her,
But she wanted to be a lawyer before embracing the kitchen.
O yea daughter of Adam!
The creator made marriage for no paper requirements
But for compatibility and love.
A life long choice many before you sorrowed;
For beauty isn't a qualification to hallow,
Even the most beautiful ones of our time still lay waste in the streets.
How do we keep falling into this same pit that spills our blood
With our hearts bleeding?
You make rents of your most valuable assets
And forget the journey set before you is needing.
As you toll for today's success
Better days you darken;
For depreciation is no ally with your flesh.
I've seen marriages crumble in honey-moon
For fear of infidelity.
There's no competition in being different;
It's lonely a journey worthy of your mind and might.
Timing it's;
For no qualification can win in this fight!
And time neither waits nor wastes
But you wait and waste.
How I've missed my virtuous woman.
I knew it was true but she wasn't so good to look upon
So I went for her.
Black beauty and I knew what was to be done
So I showed her love;
For in the household of good look pretty is a sibling.
I love her so much for she's my virtuous woman.
Spiritally edified,
Emotionally certified,
Her heart like that of Ruth
And what I felt, showed her the root;
For I knew she would make a good wife,
Being by my side a whole life.
But before my very eyes she was laid to rest,
Leaving my world rattled into pieces.
If tears could give her life back,
The ocean that flew down my cheeks would make her live longer than Noah.
The wound is healed
And the fire in my heart rekindled.
But this time I sipped beauty.
She was almost hard a nut to crack
But my virtuous woman taught me woman's things:
Clothe and make a lass look good,
She's at your beck and call;
Propose marriage to a single lady,
She has your spare-key,
And should you give a child to a newly married,
Your dinner's ready before evening.
So I won her by a price.
Spiritually effaced,
Emotionally crucified,
Her heart like that of Jezebel.
And what I had for her, not so bad;
For I knew she would make a rude wife,
Laughing at my flaws as ex-wife.
Life in itself a risk!
So I asked to marry her,
But she wanted to be a lawyer before embracing the kitchen.
O yea daughter of Adam!
The creator made marriage for no paper requirements
But for compatibility and love.
A life long choice many before you sorrowed;
For beauty isn't a qualification to hallow,
Even the most beautiful ones of our time still lay waste in the streets.
How do we keep falling into this same pit that spills our blood
With our hearts bleeding?
You make rents of your most valuable assets
And forget the journey set before you is needing.
As you toll for today's success
Better days you darken;
For depreciation is no ally with your flesh.
I've seen marriages crumble in honey-moon
For fear of infidelity.
There's no competition in being different;
It's lonely a journey worthy of your mind and might.
Timing it's;
For no qualification can win in this fight!
And time neither waits nor wastes
But you wait and waste.
How I've missed my virtuous woman.Last time I saw a damsel, virgin she was,
I knew it was true but she wasn't so good to look upon
So I went for her.
Black beauty and I knew what was to be done
So I showed her love;
For in the household of good look pretty is a sibling.
I love her so much for she's my virtuous woman.
Spiritally edified,
Emotionally certified,
Her heart like that of Ruth
And what I felt, showed her the root;
For I knew she would make a good wife,
Being by my side a whole life.
But before my very eyes she was laid to rest,
Leaving my world rattled into pieces.
If tears could give her life back,
The ocean that flew down my cheeks would make her live longer than Noah.
The wound is healed
And the fire in my heart rekindled.
But this time I sipped beauty.
She was almost hard a nut to crack
But my virtuous woman taught me woman's things:
Clothe and make a lass look good,
She's at your beck and call;
Propose marriage to a single lady,
She has your spare-key,
And should you give a child to a newly married,
Your dinner's ready before evening.
So I won her by a price.
Spiritually effaced,
Emotionally crucified,
Her heart like that of Jezebel.
And what I had for her, not so bad;
For I knew she would make a rude wife,
Laughing at my flaws as ex-wife.
Life in itself a risk!
So I asked to marry her,
But she wanted to be a lawyer before embracing the kitchen.
O yea daughter of Adam!
The creator made marriage for no paper requirements
But for compatibility and love.
A life long choice many before you sorrowed;
For beauty isn't a qualification to hallow,
Even the most beautiful ones of our time still lay waste in the streets.
How do we keep falling into this same pit that spills our blood
With our hearts bleeding?
You make rents of your most valuable assets
And forget the journey set before you is needing.
As you toll for today's success
Better days you darken;
For depreciation is no ally with your flesh.
I've seen marriages crumble in honey-moon
For fear of infidelity.
There's no competition in being different;
It's lonely a journey worthy of your mind and might.
Timing it's;
For no qualification can win in this fight!
And time neither waits nor wastes
But you wait and waste.
How I've missed my virtuous woman.
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