Featured

First blog post

This is the post excerpt.

Advertisements

This is your very first post. Click the Edit link to modify or delete it, or start a new post. If you like, use this post to tell readers why you started this blog and what you plan to do with it.

post

Know No More 

I want to know and know and know no more, Knowledge is what ushered the world and upon these dust does dwell. 

The deeper I go the more empty I felt 

Thus I ask myself how empty was I? 

I mourn over these knowledge

You find a beautiful and you acknowledge, 

Like knowledge on the ledge 

My desires to know makes me grow fonder 

The abyss , in deep, I know the sorrow.

But for the lack of it we perish. 

The mind craves to know, 

Know which one you most cherish. 

KNOW NO MORE 

I want to know and know and know no more, Knowledge is what grows the world and upon these dust does dwell. 

The deeper I go the more empty I felt 

Thus I ask myself how empty was I? 

I mourn over these knowledge

You find a beautiful and you acknowledge, 

Like knowledge on the ledge 

My desires to know make me grow fonder 

The abyss , in deep, I know the sorrow, 

But for the lack of it we perish. 

The mind craves to know, 

Know which one you most cherish. 

The discernment is inclining, 

To be bliss is declining 

What surpass knowledge tell me 

Cause am ready to be the highest bidder 

Am way pass the forges I’m the knowledge seeker

Why after the things of this world 

While we not a material thing 

Its your sense of reasoning prompt 

We know good and bad , what is our result ?

Filling Abyss

We grown stupor to this world’s ecstasy Fond of it humor and its fantasies,

All we are but Abyss , trying to fill up ourselves .

Like filling the space of space ,

Liken to the apprentice , we only followed same trace .

 Alas! We all glutton, our gratification is but a basket case 

Familiar with the fairs of vanity

Like a tumor , thus we aged with our curiosity.

A myopic chase in this world of what is rather within .

If we come off brim

Then you can say death be same .

Default Shot 

I asked, how can I be a man? The question marks filled my head like worries, 

Taunting me like an opponent all I heard was I die trying cause no man is ever complete ,but I still wanted to make it thru this stampede, when die trying was the default shot we all had, either I give this shot with the warm blood or go frozen and wool stuffed in morgue, 

Picturing the latter, 

My mind is uttering in this piece 

My bind is ushering to the feat .

Savaged Art In Act

If only my heart could speak,  It will only act savage,  Cause this distance is making it all jittery , so it’s trapped in this ribcage.  If only my eyes could feast  Its will of course be on you  But here they’are trapped in this socket, like a beast.  If only I can take in a different breath,  It will be sniffing you all up like the German Sheperd. Cause like thumbprint I know your smell is unique.  If only I could write poetry  I pray it’s extempore rather not forgery. Cause this mood is triggered by you and every word of it ,its yours to keep.  If only I could write an Ode Its will be about you.  But you’re one of a kind  And your rarity makes me write only a few.  This is me being me  Letting my emotions free  And I can keep going  Cause I’m on that lyrical spree.  

Loosed Bolts The Centre Can’t Hold.

A lot of snakes have invaded the garden, And righteousness has evaded and all there is, is the flesh’s burden.

Parading in the abyss of our desires ,the body has become a glutton. 

Where a paradise has become an inferno. 

Lurking in the obscenes ,the snares of this world while away our time to the know Creator. 

Ineed of the hope of his salvation

We still tip toe like in a landmine in this world of damnation. 

Conceptual Nemesis 

I fervently search for the truth of my eternal being  Scavenging amongst the dust what seems to be immaculate, And yes as these things done in parables  Enthused with our conception ,we lodge idling in the puzzle . This is the conceptual nemesis  where we see mirage and think it’s oasis . From fourth chapters of Mark ; 27 . The conceptual nemesis is but the flesh’s burden .