My thoughts on 2015

Having read and seen several posts, I will say
2015 has been a year of great experience.
Some of which flows into the new 2016, some
which are gone with it, some which will still
go and some which I will rely on to function in
2016.
I have traveled my farthest distance,
Stayed my farthest from home,
Taught in the highest secondary levels
For the longest as well,
Frowned, smiled, giggled, played,
Watched, slept, prayed, sang,
Whispered, screamed, danced,
Hoped, found, lost,
Bought, sold,
Researched,
Rehearsed,
Conversed,
Thought,
And here I am
At the tail of a long 2015
Looking at the head of a 2016
Hoping for a fresh start
Still hoping and hopeful...

A Mother's Love

A mother's love
Stronger than assassins' love of murder
Singly she bore me
Multiple she fed me grow
No thought of hatred is for her
For in her restrictions,
I am created to expand in future
Tough is my childhood for my manhood to be softened and swiftly soaring
Her thoughts is my great tomorrow
Her words are blissful prayers to smoothen rugged terrain of struggles
May not be there in cash but is on knee
Asks after me when all forget to
Labours for my meal in alien climes
I love her, no, you for you are my counsellor, pastor, cook, first wife, nurse from past and still is.

We and the irresponsible leaders

Bidding a bye to some crops of wealth-fattened 'failed homosapiens and a welcome to the power-hungry wealth seekers make us irresponsibly responsible. 'Spare the rod and spoil the child' has made us to strike with the rod and kill the child.
Are we the confused or confusion itself? In their adulthood (the leaders), they grew up irresponsible from our negligence of responsibility. Are they the irresponsible or we?
If us, the good Book says 'wherein have we robbed thee? In tithes and offerings' 'And now we call the proud happy; yea, they that work wickedness are set up.' We have eaten the courage of the fearless and drained the philosophers and intellectuals of wisdom and creativity. We have robbed ourselves of growth. Our tools of experiment have made us puppets and became our puppeteers. We have almost blown our eyes and lungs out in keeping the fire of development burning even while using wet logs of firewood.
If them, our icons have chosen for themselves leaders of falsehood, throwing us out of deliberation for our future. They are here with the fainting sounds of promise. Our forebears in position have laid a legacy they have only worsened.
They now think 'a ti k'oje bo oloosa lowo o ku baba eni ti yoo bo' (we have put the beads on the ritualists hands, it now remains the father of who will take it off his hand) even while sitting on the throne of tyranny.
But we say:
Chosen are they
Who even kingmakers war on their choice
Who dole out punishment but lacking in self control
Whose past questions their next hour
The journey of who has set ablaze
The fiery anger of feet stepped upon in answer to past revenge
On whose head the market square shouted for nonchallance
In whose ears ring warnings against collapse and failure

Tension: Lack of Respect

Sitting alone improves one's relationship with oneself. It helps to meditate on his life: past, present and future. I feel tension now in the air besides election and scarcity of economic tools: electricity, money, water, etc. and increase in prices, theft, heat, etc. That which I feel is tension of the spirit. My spirit alongside the spirit of godly Christians feels tensed. It is like a war between flesh and Spirit as it is written.
Things keep getting worse. Respect, hard-earned and forced, is thrown out of the window, swept out of the house, blown away with every breeze of storm, buried deep beyond reach and hung in the space where no rocket or aircraft can touch.
In schools, teachers are warring against students' immoral and bad conducts. Students on their part are highly reluctant in dropping them. They argue against such dislike and try to prove silly points.
In churches, pastors are seen rebuking the ignorant and wilfully hard-hearted members and workers. They get sorely displeased at every nonchalant action of leaders of departments and groups. They are pushed to almost cursing, excommunicating, dissolving and even expelling offending parties. They seem to be losing grip of sane and godly acts among the members. They weep at heart and even cry physically at this decadence and absence of the 'right'.
In homes, abominable acts and expressions are dethroning parental instructions and exhortation. Elders are gradually being relegated to the lowest background while the younger siblings can 'do' and 'undo'. The lifetime of a family seems to be going in the anti-clockwise direction. Happiness is cut short when scoldings rear their heads. The joy of being a parent or an elder is drastically drained from family set-up.
The elders are sometimes pushed to the wall before reacting; the consequence of which may be condemned by the public. Even the respectful elders are having their boxes of disrespect. It is true that a respectful person ultimately becomes a respectable personality but this happens only in a sane society.
Discipline is nicknamed or misnamed 'strictness' by the culprits. Social gatherings often only touch on these things without necessary actions. It is these that even promote the abnormal growth of youthful exuberance.
Will we ever be free from these? Are these meant to tempt, try and test the offended and evoke meaningful actions? Are these days just passing by like a dream? Will we wake up from such nightmare? Is there the need to compromise for 'peace' to reign?
I think the answer to these questions is NO. We only need to continue, as elders, to improve on ourselves maybe they, the younger ones, will look on us and follow our legal, moral, loyal and godly examples for a better relationship.

Election

What is election?
Is it not a united people's choice medium? Hardship on the Mount of Compulsion signals your reign.
We are left baffled to toil and tread on the prickles poured on the selfish route of the incumbents. The honey-coated oration of the propagandists beckon on us to stir up from slumber of yesteryears and grope into the dark unsure future.
Some vote in sentiments, others in spite.
Some seeking to sit on the fence found their buttocks seethe with unfavourable negligence. We think 'are we to start again or continue in penury?
Do we choose the unknown newness or the known continuity?
What are the supernatural beings thinking of us? Is our future not washed down the drain built by the gerontocratic personnels?
What are we? Puppets or puppeteers?
We have unsaid thoughts on if our choice will be selected by the selfish philosophers in government.'
Think and thank your thoughts afterwards if good.

Still on the stage?

Ask yourself this as i am asking myself now.

Theatrically, am i still on the stage of fame?
What role am i playing presently?
Am i changed by surrounding phenomena or non-responsive to them?
Do i still remember my lines well enough if not perfectly?
What stage am i(climax or anti-climax)?
Who is my director, i or another?
How do i respond to my director's instructions? Do i deserve an applause or better still an award for my part?
Will my role be remembered long after i have left the stage, will i be named after that?

The Book of Life

The only Book not published by man.
Written by only God and kept as the Most High's only Beloved Library.
Heaven's only righteous Library.
It is not a scroll of papyrus, not written with a pen or printed by a machine.
The contents can be deleted at will with no traces. The Book of Love (God) written with no sentiment or partiality.
The Greatest Book after the Bible is gone.
The Finished Product of the Bible.
The Register of the Righteous and Saints marked only once, in which there is no one absent- all present.
The Container of Citizens of New Heaven and New Earth.

We walk long

We walk long
For we want more
Till the road not taken we reached
But which they have flown over
We tred in pain over the leaves
Whose dried bones crush under our feet
seeking the broken bricks of yesterday's mistakes
On which we can hop
And arrive Tomorrow's town of succour.

Beneath the sun spreads a day Under the moon hides the night Staring up at the stars is the lurking dark Beyond words breathes feelings Of an action is a gesture In a heart is a belief Same as a leaf shudders in cold embrace of gentle breeze A written thought is kept only if the book burns not A focused one is engraved on the rock of mind A friend it is Who though is free to rend the heart Deems it fresh to end the dispute in troubled minds of both.

Havingthismindset

I live in two cities which are The Graceland and the City of Refuge. One is God's Love in that while I was yet a sinner, Christ died for me. The other is God Himself since I live in Christ and Christ in God. Halleluyah!

Aluta May 21, 2014

'Embus!' was the alert 'Disembark!' was the notice Aluta was the mission Road block was the tactics A long walk to freedom park was the aim Unity in movement was the strength Songs were the ritual and interlude of every intermission 'Studentship' and peaceful protest were the security Allegiance and obedience were the compass of every passer-by and on-looker. Aluta continua! Victoria aserta!

Bringbackourgirls

Blood pours from her heart through her eyes In hunger, she casts lustful glances at the withered grasses that served her couch. Her bed is empty and moaning her missing weight on it. But she wanders in thoughts Through hopeless deserts Swam the non-finite streams Seeking proximity with her progenitors' quiet cry But still drifts further from the hut of hope. ‪#‎ bringbackourgir ls‬

SEA

Multiple ridges of liquid pictured the frontage before land In a never ending Trojan-Grecian race to battle The sea engage its shore with its many attacks Scandalled feet strive with the intruding sands for a safe return to and fro the shore Your watery rise-fall walls, o sea, are projects not researched For deceitful constructs are they.

As an eye

If Christ is the Heart of God and I am the apple of God's Eye then we are joint heirs for We belong to one Body, The Almighty's. And We work and walk together with Lord Jesus Christ [the Heart] directing me [ the Eye]. Halleluyah!

My Father

Biologically Mr Oyebamiji is my father, Spiritually God Most High, Heavenly The Almighty Eternal and Omnigbogbonise Being. Of course, The Gracious King is not only my Father but also my Mother when all else is and when all else fails to be.

This is IT

'This is it!' said Michael Jackson. But a question is 'What is it?' Using that maxim, I will say, 'This is it.' Where we need to look up to the eternal and store up our treasures and longings. It is it, where we need to stop looking at the passing beauty of the 'NOW'. This is it where nothing lasts and light and darkness engage in a shift. This is it, a place of change. It is a 'somewhere' in which a daily mix of joy and sorrow lives. This is it. Where? What? Why is this it? It is it because we need not rest on our oars for too long to avoid the anger from oceanic current. We are in it but not of it. We are here for it but not with it. And we won't be here in it because we belong not in it. For our return shall be against it. 'IT' is man, no, men. 'IT' is terrestrial, physical, carnal and evilly spiritual. This is IT, 'earth', world, oh the universe. Of course, this is IT, Worldliness. IT is this, our exams hall and departure venue.

Teacher

Sitting at the other end, I thought how fast it had worked and how soon it will be completed. She sat opposite with questions pouring from her lips like the tap in my bathroom. I knew well that I had been late in reporting there but the distance from home and the strangeness of the direction there are to be called into question. 'Have you taught before?' She continued after enquiring about my name. 'Yes ma, but at a JAMB lesson centre' was the reply I can utter. 'and it was just for a month' I thought I added. I was gradually sweating but not perspiring. I never thought there can be a school at that hidden part of the town. The one-storeyed building stood beside a swampy bush which spread to its front. I managed to remember the job-seeking and interviews ethics I had both previously heard and bought books on. 'Okay, write me an application letter,' she requested. 'Ha, I am not here with any paper since I am coming straight from home and I was in a hurry,' I explained pleadingly. 'You can write it here then. Have this sheet of paper,' she passed a torn sheet of 'higher education' paper to me. 'Do you need pen?' 'No, ma. I have a pen here.' 'Who should I address it to, ma?' I asked. 'You can address it to the proprietress.' she answered. Few minutes later, a satisfactory comment was passed on the letter and the salary and class to be taught ironed out. The introduction to the teacher-in-charge was swiftly done and I was left to check the scheme of work alongside rewrite the timetable. I was on this when the male teachers came to introduce themselves and welcome me into the system. The 'break-time' came and went by but I decided to wait till the closing hour. I played with my phone and went through the strange-looking book opened before me several times only to try and grab the teaching ethics and lessons of my soon-to-be class. I obediently listened to instructions from the teacher-in-charge in readiness for the next day when my payment will start counting.