SOUL'E RHYMEZ WORLD

Dear Abosede, a beautiful woman, they say is an elephant meat, only the man  with the sharpest knife cuts through. This, they say. But dear  Abosede , I have no knife, and I am no hunter of meat. I have no car and I not a son of the rich, but I have dreams to realize, one of which is to have you, I only look for your love. Up north where I came, Young girls aren't they are here. Up north where I came, Young girls don’t judge you by the size of your knife, they look at the size of your heart. Hear me my  Abosede , I don't know what you look like, I mean your heart desires. I don't know where you are from, I mean your parents’ wish. I don't even know who you are,  Abosede , I mean if you I am your kind of man. All I want you to know is my heart aches, oh! My heart aches for you, Dear  Abosede .

I crave your indulgence, Please do not dodge behind the fence or build a grudging defense. Come let us conference and solve all these sin-tense. Don't come with much sentence lest we look tense and blind under the lens. I crave your indulgence, Come let us talk sense, Don't talk about science lest we complicate this, hence Come with your long sense I mean your in-dust-sense, That which they call common sense Without which we all look dense.

To the woman I love, let your heart be my witness let her not be your weakness, let her tell you how much I love you. Let her tell you the distance I traveled for you. To the woman I love, let no mouth deceive you, let no wheel wheel you away, let no distance be the instance for you to forget and say I'm not right for you.

A young man looking forward to a better day I have a dream that one day in Nigeria , a man's intelligence will no longer  be judged by his inability to pass jamb. I have a dream that one day in Nigeria,   the industrious woman's intelligence will no longer  be judged based on her inability to to solve mathematics. I have a dream that one day in Nigeria,   the mechanic will no longer be seen as failure  because he can't read and write or speak fluent English.

Alas! Here I am again with a lady who has vowed not to trust me. It just leaves me wondering why This world has failed to understand me.   It pains like salt on injury but this is the man I am: Sincere and transparent. I wonder why they dispose my dispositions and believe nonexistent unbelievable. why am I the one asking many questions? Why do they mute and move away? Alas! My innocent curiosities has been arrested for meddling, And   my liveliness, artistry has been penalized For dubiousness and lust. The offenses I'm accused of are those I detest most.

They lived free creatures But after the written scriptures We now have unsure future. Thou shall and thou shall not guard our days Let thy kingdom come we always pray. Counting on what the scriptures say. With the scriptures we made us cage, Not set Free from the old siege, The scriptures are here to save But our blindness lead us to grave. Should the Sheppard be wealthy?

A Young writer who seems to be looking for inspiration as he writes She loves my inspiration She caused me some elation and though it’s my intention to draw inspiration, it is not my creation. In the land of inspiration everyone has a portion, so I travel with caution, my fare is observation, sailing through by meditation,  I quench my thirst with motivation, in order to have my own portion. In the land of inspiration, only those with moderate motivation and right aspiration gets the best of inspiration from the God of inspiration.

When the going was good with OMOBOLAJI Omobolaji, You came to me like an angel; You're once my forerunner; you told of my coming to the land of prominence. You're once a seer; you saw what other sights are blind to. You called me great and you aren't wrong but you left as fast as you came. Omobolaji, Once more since you left, the thoughts of you invade my heart and covered my sight; I couldn't see until I let my pen bleed maybe this invader will leave when his blood dry in the outpour of my heart.

Alas! The extremists Have gone extreme again, This time leasing lasses with fist All for their evil gain. Alas! Elections elects again, After Months of mounting mourning, They are out for evil gain again Ignoring mothers' mornings mourning. Alas! They horn honest lies, Wooing with in-eloquent grandiloquence, Of their fade out promises That still live here with us. They plead with bags of rice That prevents our glorious rise And hand us peanuts That woke insurgents in the north.

I AM MY OWN PROPHET I am my own prophet, a vision no one has seen, I am my own forerunner, no one to tell of my coming or prepare the way for me. I am a mystery too hard for people to unveil, I am the future that astrologers can not see, I am a prophecy that no prophet ever prophesied, I am the greatness that was never recorded. I am the mistake of a poor woman but I require a greater stake. I am the mountain on which people can see clearly, I am the land containing silver and gold, I am the valley that flows with water for the thirsty. I am the rare gem among ordinary stones, The pride of my race but now the black sheep of my family, I am the solution that comes in form of pollution, I am the tattered book full of life's treasures. Such claims gets minds mad but my mind wouldn't have conceived what I can ’ t achieve. Such verdicts they don't understand, their sights are clear ...