I’m the sorrow

behind my tomorrow,

You can compare me to an arrow

or projected ball thrown

like a javelin.

A spear not to spare

any delusional snares,

I’m a steaned sorrow

to whoever never

admire my vision

of morrow.

Because of my tomorrow,

I furrow my eye brows

to an high brow.



Can you tell the pose of a bard when he sees how harsh life took you so hard, imagine a bard with solutions to your problems and the problematic aura around you seems so programised you can’t help yourself find a solution , hope you know bards are not God, but God uses them in miraculous ways for those that’s voices but couldn’t speak, for those that’s the potentials to high places but couldn’t reach the peak, you see how life can be so complicated when it comes to you running shits yourself, most people think bards are bad beings especially when you see the ones that gets high for a reason and bards that are introverts practically they don’t give a fuck about you or your biz., I think you should try having a bard in your bosom ere you judge anyone you see out there scripting or orating.

‎Most bards you’ve seen might pose with pen, cigarettes, paperbacks, tabloids and related elements that brings muses, a bard acts crazy most times, speaks to himself in a lonely room or might have inspirations in worstest scenes, myself I found inspiration in the toilet one day while my mum was noting all the moves I made, when I came out then she queried what have I been doing in the toilet, I was like damn!, these whole thing sounds weird staying in the rest room over an hour seems stupid but trust me it’s not, the same stupid bard might be your prophet, believe what a bard says partially by giving it a trial and see the outcomes.

Bards can be your guards, they can be your mentors and your tutors, making tiles with them makes your time worth the while, you see a bard in your city stadium with less multitude, then you feel like a wailing wheel thirsty for blood, he sounds so annoying because he doesn’t pose well like wiz kid or doesn’t sound like David’s O , he doesn’t have the vibes to revive souls and run town for shits to go down, I know most bards pose anyways, anywhere and anyhow, they’re made to break hearts with words not bearable and smile at you the next morning you frown – they’re just as simple minded as that.

The words of bards are just like words from drunkards, you don’t believe them because the speaker doesn’t live the right way you think they should, don’t forget they are also humans, humans are not made perfect, so bards are not made perfect, no claws without flaws, the pose of a bard is not just the pictures you see on walls or magazines, the heavy words rained into your heart is a pose, the way they deciphered figures to you is a pose, the same way you feel great after well calved spoken words is a pose, bards can’t be called bards because he poses tongues like dogs or showcases gold plated tooth like medals , you can’t name a bad bard through his acts or lifestyle, you know the bad ones through their writes.

I am a bard, okay ? you know I wrote this, how do you rate it ? Did I posed well? Rate me on a range 1-10, how weigh am I on the scale ?


All I ever wanted is to be wanted in the society of many vices,

Be the search in engines on most devices,

All I ever wanted is to be a champion

and be able to paralyze my prey like scorpion,

I sting you stinks is not a portion

of what I have in mind for you.

All I ever wanted is for us to live a good life,

Build a well planned home with a beautiful wife,

Be the hall of fame and posts on walls,

All I ever wanted is to be a brother’s keeper when he falls,

All I ever wanted is to be a man so strong like a concrete rod,

All I ever wanted is to be all- not God.




I wonder why poems don’t teach anymore,
It doesn’t reach the basement of the heart anymore
rather it stops at the gate of gullet,
It doesn’t allure shedding from the eyes anymore,
It doesn’t scream to ears anymore.

Bards aren’t doctors treating sores anymore,
They rather weave words to seal a deal,
Or carve words to sell for personal interest,
Truth aren’t the target anymore
because they want the cool cash hot.

Words aren’t medicinal to souls anymore,
It doesn’t heal the world any longer,
It doesn’t give meals to the poor in spirit  anymore.
It doesn’t attain souls’  hills; high places in the heart.

Heal someone with your pen,
Someone needs your carved words to breathe,
Someone needs your words for strength,
Someone needs you for guidance,
Right words are worth more than gold.

Someone needs your voice to proceed,
Someone needs to hear your words; to smile,
Don’t let your pen thread idle like a needle,
Don’t make it sleep like a dead dream
rather make a battle with it like a soldier
because that’s whom you are.

Heal someone with your pen,
Let your poem teach and reach souls,
Let it heal sores of the oppressed,
Let it penetrate high places above the land,
Let it spread to the empire like fire,
Let it teach, reach, penetrate, heal and spread the way words does.

Let it attain high places in hearts,
Let it attain high places on earth,
Let it sing the evergreen songs the world’s needs,
Heal someone with your pen
while it desists venom in hearts.