Pieces of inspirations, stored in procrastination,
Has done nothing to the well being of achievements.
It doesn’t get the job started either does it get it done.
It just lies there closer to you.
Making you feel awesome like you can touch the sky.
Meanwhile, you only spy into the future using your imaginative sense.
And you taste the savor of greatness without getting a chop of the meal.
You will never start until ready starts going.
@adethatwrites
©2019
Hmmm…Have you walked down this lane?
The lane of the warring voices embedded in the mind?
Where voices rage war in the soft bones of your mind,
Over choices and decisions,
Voices sounding right under the spell of imaginative confusion,
Wrong when castrated of the spell,
Where reasoning becomes afraid to reason,
Cos even in the cause of reasoning choices coated in capsules of poison seize thy taste of choice,
Confused over nothing yet confused over everything,
Drowned in the ocean of counterfeited uncertified voices draining broken pieces of unfulfilled dreams sketched out,
These voices keep on speaking,
That the only surviving cartilage in the brain of my head has been ruptured
Unseen yet powerful and influential voices, trapped in myriads of scorn,
This is an inbuilt ethnic war,
Who can save me from this destiny device,
Where voices echo unraveled solutions and complicated ideas to same thing,
Which do my being become a slave to?
Rains of confusion has embarked on a rescue journey at the central park of my head,
Taking rest at the hallucinated desolate field of lost,
The sweet and gentle voice of procrastination has embalmed its statue in me and silenced my voice of reason placing it in the solitudinal grave of eternity,
I wear smiles wrinkled on the inside,
Spraying the perfume of faded smile to avoid panel of questioning,
Inner pimples has eaten deep my dimpled mind of rest,
Hiding under the cloaky face care of MARY KAY
To bring out the dimples amidst the pimpled troubled mind,
Which voice do I cling to?
The sugar coated diabetic voice or the fading- like silent voice embedded with thorns and water logged pathway to destiny,
OH!!! OH…
War of voices within…
My soul has become aged at the peak of my youthful mind,
Let me think and make one… my permanent abode for a gloomy doom await the confused mind making choices,
Follow me on my journey but with cautioned silence.
Kanu Nonye
© 2018
In that dark and lonely prison
I sat neglected and alone
Kept company only by reason
And many a tear rolling down in a sob
I tried to move for want of ease
The chains clanked the pains increased
The worst had happened and hopes decreased
For everyday brought me closer to sorrow’s abyss
But how did i get this far
How could i have missed my way?
How could i not understand?
That paradise i had already given away
My heart quakes and quivers as i remember
That it hadn’t always been this way
But now all the memories concur
And i have a story to tell, my story
A story long in its stride but yet precise
Short it may seem but detailed it is
Tis a story of one who lost his way
And now heads undoubtedly for shame
As i said this course i now undertake
Was not the first my feet would ever tread,
But just a choice i made one day
Was enough to seal my fate.
Like a slow fade
I had stepped away
For a moments pleasure and spice
I had given away love and paradise
As i trudged along hopelessly
A voice called out my name sweet and sincere
A silver lining in the darkest of clouds
Twas my first love calling me home again
Reach out and believe he said
You don’t have to end this way he said
But it couldn’t be that easy i thought to myself
How could he i had hurt so much still draw me to Himself?
As i reached out he reached out to me
He pulled me up and out of my chains
And like a flash i was on my long forgotten path
I was free at last i am free at last
As we walk along
My joy knows no bounds
I don’t have to look forward to eternal doom
Cos i walk the part of life with my one true love
As we talk, his words refresh
He’s always there even when no one cares
He helps me through this journey to paradise
My story has now become a love story
by
Ezeonyeka Godswill
Procrastination is a thief, indecision is an armed robber an slumber is an assassin
Christ a poet 