LINES AND VERSES

Men dying, Women dying; Children, women and men Blown into bits before they could ask why. Not the tears in our eyes, Not the prayers in our minds; Not the pleas of our entire Voices will dowse your thirst for even more blood. Now you know your guns can kill; Your wasteful weapons of ill. Now you know your sneeze can send shiver Down our spines: now crawl back to your hell. © Jude Ifeme Photo credit Subscribe to POETIC IDEAS Follow @mcjudeci

Fake names, fake hair, Fake lashes and fake air; Fake nails – skin dubiously light, Fake tits and fake height:                     A fair hunk, a feigned smile; A lust tango – such mutual wile.         Love frowns, walks on by, Cupid waves a bye-bye ©Jude Ifeme The 5 Love Languages: The Secret to Love that Lasts Subscribe to POETIC IDEAS Follow @mcjudeci

DELTA CALL More lip services, more spillages, More pilfering and more hostages. More ta-ta! ta-ta! in the creeks, More tears running down cheeks. More soldiers and more guns, More militants to do the runs. More things not getting done well, More closely we get to hell. ©J.Ifeme 11/5/2008 Subscribe to POETIC IDEAS Follow @mcjudeci

OLD WAYS Eve ry story will grow old, So will every song And every face; Every city will grow old, So will its might And its men And their hold On other men. Someday new melodies Will be sung about old songs; New tales about old stories, About old cities, About old men, About old ways they'd briefly reigned. Jude Ifeme Photo: Creepypasta Subscribe to POETIC IDEAS Follow @mcjudeci

A little sigh. A short gasp. A life lost. Silence. We spoke; Not in words. All gestures gone. Rigor mortis. The pain. The void. A rueful Submission to memories.                                                                    Photo credit ©Jude Ifeme

The last time I met him, He had a dream. He said this society had ills But they keep asking us to wait. Why? He said this land had a heart, And it was bleeding; In all he saw wasting men pleading. He wanted to know if I saw Their pains in his eyes; He had a call – He would speak for their tears. Yes, I saw that dream. I saw a man whose blood spilled Though the cut wasn’t on him; I saw a man who’d been down Enough to tell a smile  From a frown. The next time I saw him, He wouldn’t look my way. I could only whisper to a doubtful Stranger that I knew this man; That I knew him, not long ago – I couldn’t tell him how much The man had changed. I couldn’t tell him our wealth Has suddenly become his. Jude Ifeme Follow this blog

Smile. Your best smile: Let it linger like a light from the sun Our adulations unquenched. Veil your mortal fangs, Feed us luscious lies lest we feel their pangs. Speak. Your best words: Spill them with the smoothness of a Romantic poet; affect our sensuousness, Let even sages bask in their baneful showers. Walk. Your best walk: Let each step be a revelation of your Innermost swag, go on... Hypnotize our gullible minds While clueless cameras memorize. © Jude Ifeme Photo credit: media.sal on

Oh sweet Erika You wanted a place in his heart And got a spot in his car Another shade to his art The sacks below your eyes The ashes of withered passion A still star in moving skies Lays no claim to their motion Oh dear Erika Can't count your loses on ten fingers Matters of the heart are what they are But you got to leave this to the head © Jude Ifeme

Some things are eating up the  rock In my backyard – Boom! Boom! Boom! One smashes it into a thousand  boulders, Another chews them up in a  metallic furry; Churns them out in a billion tiny  fragments – The rock slouches like a giant  caterpillar, Perhaps agonizing, perhaps  oblivious… Amid ashy haze in the gaze of  sunshine, metal CATs and Monstrous open-backs pick a  thing From where it belongs and  down to where it doesn’t While nature’s beauty  is ceaselessly marred. ©Jude Ifeme     Subscribe to POETICALLY SPOKEN by Email

I want to breathe like the Cactus; I want to stay  unfazed knowing though I may be the only green in a thousand miles. Pulp on the inside spikes on the outside; I want to be unaffected by frown or applause; Cast little care for judgments or day-brings But live like death is on a long, long sabbatical. I want to make music out of wind-howls; Sit tight on shifting sands Refuse to hide or beg the sun. And when there is rain again I want to glance at that modicum of hope And not hold on to its flitting joy. ©Elo Jude Ifeme Subscribe to POETICALLY SPOKEN by Email Get the My Triond Articles widget and many other great free widgets at Widgetbox ! Not seeing a widget? ( More info )

To be in the world A place at a time, never more! To walk the earth, high or low, Wasted or restored, to live. To feel like a god, like a king Or a mere presence, soon forgotten. To stare death in the eyes And again be rudely reminded Of your very impermanence! Jude Ifeme Subscribe to POETICALLY SPOKEN by Email Get the My Triond Articles widget and many other great free widgets at Widgetbox ! Not seeing a widget? ( More info )