LINES AND VERSES

There's divinity in most things we do - that power beyond us setting the posts and shapening the fields - which only leaves us to marvel or grapple. But the success of anything we do will largely, or always, depend on the amount of dedication we put in, and marriage is not an exception. The success of every marital union will depend on the level of mutual acceptance shared by the couple involved, the time invested, the love and sacrifice both individuals may be willing to give.  Marriage is not a place where you come to meet prepared solutions, or hope to automatically have your life  transformed by its shere pronouncements, or even get instant  rehabilitation from the emotional or lustful wretched you were just yesterday. Much as marriage can help in your general psychological appreciation, one must have had a previous determination to change, or must have started a workout on their character to enjoy meaningful transformation.  There is no marriage made in heaven! Divinity ca

My Phoenix died a dozen Times before dawn; The last was his truest, And he awoke in a of blaze words. I'm not a legend - you can call me Madiba; My enemies slump In packs of conscience - Each the colour of his mind. I go down with the sun and Resurrect a full moon: I am not a poet, only a lone voice With words playing in my head. I speak to the winds and the storm Come to me in whispers. © Jude Ifeme

An indignant ewe wrestles A randy ram, a cock rapes A reluctant hen, an old man Gropes a minor's crotch; It's evening on a ghetto lane - Hawkers slowly return to roost. Nightfall is a wakeup call, Darkness a friend to all ; Who knows, it might rapture Tonight, but there's lust in every Vein, every tongue craves a hotter Drink, haven comes here every night. In a darker end is a lone voice, Lewd lyrics crooned, an Angel's Tone. Someday the world will sing Along - not all bad on ghetto lanes. © Jude Ifeme

Let's sing a song to hinder time For we've come to precipice, our Days are definite as numbers Can be, our fate spelt in the Scroll of seers of doom. We Can rave and rant anyways, we Could kill the prophets and burn Their words, chase narratives of Brilliant minds, there's but a step Ahead. A song of rhythmic rhymes And chime of time drumming away, let's sing A song through the end of time.

Soon the streams will trickle and dry, the rivers will learn to meander no more and the birds be forced to unending dance. In our bed we'll listen to clatters and clangs and wish we'd never face her wrath. Jude Ifeme

It amazes how big things grow smaller as we grow bigger How life so magnifies itself but in the end is just a whiz of wind When you stare long in the eyes of death and don't take its abyssal Hand then you could yet addle the rest with a tale of many lives © Jude Ifeme