Why Are They Changing Us?

Why are they changing us?
Why are they making us become like them?
The smart guys
Why are they...
Making us believe in selfishness
Nothing matters more than what we chase
"Help me make it or wait till I do"
see you...at the top...if you make it

Why are they succeeding?

With lies and pretense
It keeps people off your back and lets you advance
Then surprise!!!...with success
Cheer or feel fooled
Surely, a handshake is preferable to regret

Why can't true relationships thrive?
A penny or a hand...there has to be something to gain
Else, whats the point?

Whats wrong?
They honour victory over virtue
They prefer present to potential
The good guys get rewards
And the real good guys...
"They'll remain respected...in our hearts"

Where is my innocence?
Where is my drive to do things the right way?
Where is my adoration for sincerity?
I used to trust
I used to love wholeheartedly
I used to believe my senses
Now everything's twisted

What have they done to me?
What have they done to us?

We have to choose
To be good or to survive

Anybody?!

Hello! He-low! I know, I’m not alone. I know. But so sometimes it feels. And though I see no walls in the vast expanse of possibility’s horizon, I hear it. Echo. Calling. “Hello-o-o, anybody there. Be mad with me! Anybody?!”

Peering within for an answer, ears hoping for the bonus of a second voice paved with courage and blessed with a heart to match, too irritated to take another gulp of the nonsense with no anger, I’m desperate. “Anybody?!”

‘Anybody?!’ Indignant at the stench of decay and with vision fisted for change, men are sought and women who are only so declared by gender. Angry, equipped with exposure, ready and mad for a war to restore green-faded-into-black back to grounds which for decades it has never tread; stable sanity. Our Nigeria needs them. And now, only those mad enough can be the heroes.

“Anybody?!”

My Statue Friend

I was alone, sitting on one of the benches in the park, partly shaded by a tree-which I believe was there for comfort in such lonely moments as then. After throwing out most of the pebbles I had picked from around the bench, I looked to my left and sighted a figure standing just a few steps away. The couple who just left had been blocking it. Its shape and posture was what first caught my attention. So I slowly walked to it for a better glance. I got right in front of it and looked at its face. It was female. I was suddenly elated by the expression on her still concrete face. It was a bright smile. But it seemed to be expressing more. I smiled back, stood there for a while then sat beside her. She became my new friend. After that day, I visited her very often. She always made me smile. She looked pretty old and wasn't the most beautiful of the other statues I had seen placed at different spots on the other parts of park-which most people would rather be- but I loved her. I loved her smile and I loved the way she always listened to me, whether I was sobbing or sharing my excitement. She seemed like the only person around, with whom I could feel free to be me. So I cherished that spot and hardly again visited the other side of the park. The park was no longer a place I strolled down to mostly when I felt bored, lonely or depressed and I always looked forward to being there; about the same time, almost every day.

But things suddenly changed. One early Tuesday morning, while many were yet to fully rise from their beds, I ran down to the park to say hello like I had done some other mornings. But things weren’t exactly like it used to be. I hadn’t said many words to her when I noticed the difference. She looked the same except for the smile. The smile was gone. I didn’t understand how and why. But it was gone. While I stood there trying to grasp the mystery behind what I beheld, my mouth stood still and I felt tears roll down my cheeks. I hadn't finished what I was saying but it didn’t seem like she was listening anymore. I mean, she didn’t look interested. In fact the new expression on her face showed she may have been fed up with all I had been saying to her those other days when she was still smiling. I quickly ran down home with more tears rolling down as I ran. I was sad. Later that day, I decided to walk through the park on my way back home hoping my experience in the morning wasn’t real. I stood and looked from a few steps away; I didn’t go close to her like I would have done every other time. I really wished I, somehow, saw the smile again. But I didn’t. It was truly gone. However, as I sadly walked past in my disappointment, a guy (I think he was the park keeper) called me, “Son!”. I turned and he walked up to me. “She needed some work”, he said, adding that “she is one of our oldest. She has been here longer than all others in this park and needed some maintenance, especially on her face”. “Okay”, I replied-I couldn’t think of anything more appropriate response. He also told me he had noticed how regularly I came to the park to be with her and said “it’s okay pal. You’re free to keep coming. I’m here to keep her and everything else here safe. That includes those who come-by; and you”. “Thank you sir”, I replied, and quietly walked home.

Though I was glad to get an explanation as to how her smile had suddenly disappeared, we could no longer be close friends again. I could no longer talk to her like before and all the things I had said to her and all the time we had shared together now felt foolish to me. Why was I just realizing? She was just a statue! She was good company but she wasn’t actually there to be my friend. It was me who made one out of her. I had to move on. I somehow did and discovered she wasn’t the only thing that could make me happy. And she wasn’t the only good, listening and understanding friend I could have. I learned from the experience. I had to learn to be happy without her. I learned to live without her smile. Apparently, the power to smile and be happy was with me not her.

But what can I say to whoever took that smile away? Well, nothing actually. They probably didn’t know what that quaint smile meant to someone else or maybe they just didn’t care. I learned to see it as a privilege (and nothing to be prideful about) if something or someone else finds happiness and freedom to be themselves (and be as expressive as they want) with me or something I posses. I learned maturity.

I missed my statue friend and I don’t regret my moments with her and the things I had said to her. I believe she was there at that phase of my life to teach me the growth and maturity I hadn't learned from from anyone else.


"You can do without that thing you hold so dear to you, provided it does not form the essence of your being." - Pius Ile. Living With The Mindset of A Stranger

My Everest

O ‘great’ Everest
Where art thou now
And where is thy glory
And height
which sought to thee exalt
above my God
Hast thou not become a plain
upon which I now dance
and engrave psalms
to Him, the fiber of my strength
who hath delivered thee into my hands

Where is thy voice
Quick to cry
“Alas! He has fallen again!”
Why art thou silent
Do thy words now scoff thee
Doth my victory now shame thee
Where is your crest
Where is your pride
founded on my many falls
Alas! Everest
“How art the mighty fallen”

Petal-less rose

I cry for you O beautiful one.
I cant seem to stop the tears from forming
and eventually rolling off my eyes each time i think of you.
You had beauty that tingled men's imaginations
and aroused dreams in many.
fragrace that earned secret praises and respect
from all who had a taste for purity.
you had that scent.
even before you sprouted into the view of anxious eyes
and grasp of filthy fingers.
But then, unlike now,
they couldnt see it.
their eyes were too big to.
And you,
your eyes were too small to.


i feel for you, beautiful one!
Really.
Is this what is left of you?
Dust patterns as camouflage for your lost charm;
dancing aimlessly to the rhythm of false winds of excitement;
a bid to escape the sight of the truth that now hunts you.
tell me.
I want to know.
Is this you? now petalless.
is this you
who will someday be presented to another on the isle of sincerity?


I want to hear from you, beautiful one.
What is left of you now?
What is left to have or to hold?
what love shall you claim for the one whose treasure you willfully gave to another;
and whose package you've unsealed
and selfishly traded for your own pleasure.
do you not feel any guilt?
do you not feel any shame?
or do you just not care?


I'll pray for you beautiful one.
that you do not plant yourself in the shady hedge
where darkness shall daily clothe you.
where the stregth of your stalk shall daily dwindle
and ugly hands joyfully take a share of your remnant.

But I still love you, beautiful one.
and though you've lost the beauty i once saw
i'll still call you "beautiful"
beacuse the creator hasnt called you less.