Missing ink

A stolen thought weeps in the cellar of a broken mans dreams, its need to belong to a changeling, escape the fiasco of a lost existence. dare i say this thought went astray, it needed a cushion it wanted to be a marvel like a dream. Jealous thought where are you now, on an island stranded missing existence, how will you find your way back somehow to reap the reward of supporting others with persistence.  It claws from its silent death, reflecting its wounds to an angry community, there i stood in the belly of change, selfish i was, i wanted immunity. For fear took me, and cast i aside, weeping like a baby dragged from its womb, i have risen from the tomb of a dull and colourless place.

The Owl

The owl revels in the splendour of the night, eagle eyes, cyclops, you are observer in this skin. Watching, channeling, precision to change. Each action a dimple on the goals you set before you. We awe in wonder at a world of magic and magnificent, adventure tiptoeing to come steal you away. You are glorious where you perch, casting your vision on dancing limbs and jerking bones, paperclip men and women blowing restless in the wind.

Verse of the man

verse of the man, strong in his stride, i am your eve, worlds can go hide, dare they arise and look upon with contempt, with resentment, and lack common sense. For here we are, a tribe of two, evolving into fiction, turning to glue, something the eyes, they never did see, something to marvel at
something so free.

A moment

With each prick of laughter, you turn your head away. Your attention has shifted now. The thorns have pricked you, like an electric current, have jerked and Spasmed jolting you into an unfamiliar reality. You do not like this terrain. You do not like those words which slide into bloodied sentences looking for casualty. You search my eyes, with your jewelled salt brown Gaze, it is an uneasy smile you prescribe, doctoring the rejection i feel. You tilt my chin up with your fingertip, and say in a baritone like warm chocolate steaming from mug, “i like different, different is good. You were enough.”

Lucky Penny


The creative caption
is hidden in the fold
Caught between the blankets
Of a life which
plans to scold
An unkempt you
For such tiresome risk
Your fighting a self
Yet there are no fist
A shadow stalks
To claim your flesh
To claim the laughter
and what is left
Was it something
You predicted
planned t’would
be afflicted
For the siren voice
That cried
a noun of Wolf
Looking for ways
To play his golf
And picking pennies
From a busy floor

Till Dawn

He whistled at scars
on my face
etchings of beauty
which age would erase
Does anyone look like you
he said
His eyes filling
with the curves
of my hips
To the curls on my head
You are a wonder to me
When you speak
It is a current
Everytime i see
your steps pound the ground
not even the shriek
of a nearby noun
Can distract
me from this trance
That exists
Over years it persists
For when you smile
i imagine myself
perched as a butterfly in your pocket
A peck on your cheek
A marvel
A rocket
I sit three rows
behind you in Music
I play the flute
and would gladly
abuse it
To become piper
A thread for your
Give me a limerick
I’ll sing it till

Glitter ball


The things you miss
about the faces that claimed
Your day
people who are just passing
Scared of aging
I miss the flash of
White teeth
A polaroid of precision
gated bones
Celebrating snatches
from a postcard of Joy
Talling me how happy
You were to see me
Your warm embrace
The honey of your soft
Like the kiss of
I miss my friend
whose laugh would
like a Volcano
Turning grown men into
Bludshing yet pulsing
Spasms of conversations
Lost in the magic
of a Glimpse
Speech bubble people
Eager to be popped
Ripe for connecting
I miss your walk
Like a dance
The shimmy of Limbs
everytime you stepped
Into a room
You were like a
Dazzling Glitterball
Your eyes shone like
For there was
Something special
About you

Something strange (poem) by Otatade Okojie

There is something strange
About the young one
This young seedling
Lopsided grin
Hooded eyes
Masking a sea of discontent
An Opium of Longing
Something odd about
The veins like
This Octopus
needing to be loved
Yet so desolate
an Island
A separate being
There is something
strange about the way
Every action
is a question mark
As though she would
Quiz her own
And her shadow
would trudge off
in Confusion
It is puzzling
To be lost
In a skin
That belongs
To you

The canvas of the curious mind

Somebody told you it was impossible.They told you it was time to grow up, to put childish things away, to become another player consumed by conformism in this game of life.


To be an active participant,in the demise of your own truth. And what is your truth? Who you are, your passions, your gift, are sent from a greater abundance. You are unique and some of you may even be described as eccentric, when the world says jump and others say how high you often ask questions like why? Why do I need to jump? Why do I not walk this route, why not crossover where there is access here, why not look at this avenue, your curious mind engages things differently. You find happiness in the quest for knowledge,you find wisdom even in the smallest lessons. So when others who are unhappy and discontent,tell you it’s time to grow up, you must also question as I am growing ,evolving,elevating.Who am I growing into? What will I become?

Agents of change

This is beyond the simplicity of your needs, you are changing the perspective of others.

Heightening their ambitions and bringing them further into the realm of possibilities. It was a dream, then it became a vision, now you must tread it, now you must March it, now you must fight for your own independence, by celebrating the power of your mind. The mind is the most powerful tool we have at our disposal, it helps us become instigators of great social change, manoeuvre, and negotiate, our way to our own financial freedom. We walk in the paths of change agents that came before us, shifting, dancing through time.

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