Goodbye

Hello people!! It’s been ages since I posted here and I’m really sorry. Anyway I’ve been going through a phase and I just thought to share it with you. Enjoy!

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Your very fragile body, once tall now stocky.

Though these days, a shadow of your former glory,

Though your present look makes me sorry,

You’re elegant and classy, a refined beauty.

Full of goodness so sharp and tasty,

You stand proud, conspicuous in the midst of many.

Knowing osteoporosis and heart disease may be the fee,

Diabetes and obesity, they don’t faze me

Within my reach is where you belong

Just so you know you’ll be consumed before long.

When you’re with me it seems like food,

Water or air won’t do as much good.

My friends, my family how they despise you!

The horrid tales, I believe can be anything but true

But now that Google has joined the rout,

I look at you and find myself in doubt

A good life or you, which is worth being without?

My dear Coca-Cola only one way to find out!

    

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I’m not Afraid to Die | Life of a Bastard Tramp Vs 16-19

This certainly took its time in coming and I apologise profusely. It is the last in the Bastard Tramp series and I hope it’s a good enough ending for this series…

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No matter how much I visit the morgue
No matter how long I stare at a dead man’s mug
No matter how long I sleep and die in silence
No matter how much I indulge in violence;
I’m not afraid to die because I’ve obtained the license to violence.

Even if I see a poor man’s coffin
Even if I see it while eating my expired muffin
Even if what I eat is poisoned
Even if living will cause me to be imprisoned;
I’m not afraid to die because my heart beats after I had listened.

Let the tsunami wash away my city
Let me be left in the middle of the Sahara without pity
Let me hear the heaven’s trumpets
Let men evolve to mere limpets;
I’m not afraid to die because I’m poor and got nothing to lose except for my flies I keep as pets.

Come rain come sunshine
Come Coke come red wine
Come Sovnili pirates come Hizbula
Come Bokites come Al-queda;
I’m not afraid to die because terrorists’ brains are like empty brass kettles made in Bida.

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Day 11 – Sodium

DISCLAIMER: NOT HUMAN

Symbol – Na

Atomic weight – 22.9897

Ionization energy – 5.1391eV

Solution –

Chemist – @oVunderkind

———-

“FoolProof Test for Breast Slackness: If you can breastfeed a baby you’re carrying on your back, well, it may be safe to say, YES, your breasts may have sagged a little” – The Vunderkind

Oops. Why did I begin this write-up with that kind of opening statement? I have absolutely no idea. All I know is that when compadre Bobola (his twitter handle’s BluePaet today; God knows what it’ll be tomorrow) asked me to write for his blog, in my head I was like:

“OMGWTFICAN’TWRITEFORYOUYOURFRICKINGBLOGISDAMNAWESOMEJESUSICAN’TBELIEVETHISNOWDANCINGWINDECK”

But what I actually replied was:

“Okay”

Talk about poker face. No, no. Poker fingers.

So, our chat (actually DM) goes something like:

@TheBluePaet: Write for me, you puny mortal!

@oVunderkind: I be your minion sire! I shall do for thee that which you please (Shakespearean lingua comes…

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Life | Life of a Bastard Tramp Vs 15

If I’ve learnt anything, it’s to swallow my fears

Because a heated knife flaunted in front of the eyes brings about tears.

A long strife sometimes brings about success and much mirth

Life cannot only be a straight potholeless path

But a jarl of a non-stop shooting jezail.

One night of a lucent moon is another night of a black moon I

t’s like an ocean of Death’s bath, water

Bearing strong winds that can break a sail’s mast.

Oh! Please will you arrive soon?

To elevate me to a sudden top spot

To enjoy you to the fullest.

Hora fugit!

People who had it are wept over

By people who have it.

It is not a struggle

It is not a journey of ecstasy

It is for you to decide your fate

Probatum est, it is the iriscope of sadness and joy.

@Verse_Iam

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Water | Life of a Bastard Tramp Vs 14

…a blackout and my drill wanders off to a beach divine, I just could not hold my tongue…

Liquid of life,

You cousin of mortality!

Nursery of treachery and tranquility…

…You cut through Femi’s lungs like a double-edged sword at open sea!

You are the mother of mutiny!

A non-respecter of persons.

Carrier of silent, peaceful waves that reduces an island to a no-man’s land.

Ha ha, embodiment of life and death.

What are you? Hmm?

Why do you threaten me with your cousin, ehn?

When I cry, it is you,

When I sweat, it is you,

Even when my eyes meet the heavens,

Nothing I see but your dark face

With flashing fatal strokes of light

That leave tribal marks on the playground.

I dared you to come down and play

You poured flood.

I kept malice with you

Your silence made hunger a well-known foe.

I begged for your return

But you left my ancestors’ land to burn.

When at last you came, you raised dust.

You gave me a flu, adding to my deteriorating health.

I recovered ’cause of your powers.

Yes, you helped in my restoration.

I knew you were inside my ogogoro

Drowning my sorrows.

You have no enemies

You have my respect

I do not fear you

You are not God!

@Verse_Iam

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Death’s Plea to the Seed | Life of a Bastard Tramp Vs 13-15

… My drill arrives at a courtroom. Somehow I know, just as I take a seat in the jury, that Death is about to take the witness stand…

The royal court rolls in.
She steps into Man’s judgement place
Her face aglow with her wicked kindness.
She is confined to a golden throne set ablaze.
She has been groomed as a princess
Trained never to succumb to mere mortals I hear.
Lol, her frightfully freaky fury-filled face fell for filthy flesh
So fast I learn.

“May the accused speak before us?”
“Yes;
Spirits’ sparkling silks showing silver stripes
Devastates deceitfully dear demons
Treading tirelessly towards tens Of overzealous offenders.”
Her voice was like the sound of a pin dropped on a ceramic tile
And the response like a billion whistling airplanes.

“Say, I implore,
Die dreaming dark doom.
Sin sweetens starving soldiers’ soup
Stirred slightly, specially sour,”
Says Satan’s spoon.

@Verse_Iam

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Retrospect

Ok. So I’ve been posting poems for a few days now and no, I’m not done yet. To tell the truth, I think I like the idea of using the enter key ever so often. *evil grin* Now, honestly, if I get bombarded daily with mentions on posted poems, I’d as soon as not open them anymore. Ok maybe not. I’m too curious a person not to. See, poems tend to confuse me after a while and I am willing to believe I’m not alone on this island. So, out of my very kind heart. No, I’m not very kind. Anyhow, I’m putting these lovers-of-poetry-that-get-confused-nontheless people into consideration and all of you (forgive me if I’m mistaken) individuals that are already, at the moment, too lazy to continue scrolling down who gave up looking up the links *side eye* somehow I know there are witnesses to that. *sigh* At least they retweeted.Where was I? Oh yeah! Considerations. I’ve decided, out of I-don’t-know-what to give a summary of the last few poems since yesterday marked the end of the first half of the series. You see now that this is not out of goodwill?

Now, Life of a Bastard Tramp is a poem consisting of 19 verses. 19 because rounded up numbers do not seem accurate. We’ve been kind enough to break this into 8 individual poems, each unique in its own way but still part of a whole. You know, like the human body, a car or maybe even egusi soup. *clears throat* So yeah, the summary.

The first half is mainly about.. Hmmm.. His conception was unplanned for, unwanted even. He was always looked down on -with scorn. He was born into a society that treated motherless babies and fatherless babies differently, the former being the more appealing. J, as I call him, always sought for acceptance and power. This, in the society in which he lived, meant -of course- money.
In most of the poems in this first half, he is reminiscent. J remembers all the necessary evils that brought him acceptance -women, weed and booze. All of which needed -of course- money.
Soon, this life lands him in a ghastly accident that leaves him dead to the world. He regains temporary consciousness on a hospital bed before drifting off with the sounds of the world lingering in his mind. In the course of the poem, he is remorseful but does not right his wrongs. His money spending days finally come to an end and he is less than a shell of his former self.

So there you have it. This first half is just like the normal daily struggle for acceptance. Not so hard to comprehend, ei?

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