untitled

Would u make me feel spicy; 
As in my soliloquy 
I still find you pricey
But u seem to have lost your key
Dry as the dead sea.
Well if u ask me
U still got the flavour,
that charmed me.
So let's get risqué
Forget the risky
Lose all senses
Till we titillate we.


Fimisola-Samuel

Free Verse 1

Hello, hello Perfect lil world
having you speak
where speaking is contraindicated
we're both acting like bodies
with their minds disconnected
i'm laying low with spirit evicted
from a mind that was once elated
now sitting in seats with the conceited
doning hats stigmatised by words i repudiated
I wonder?
If you ever realise or even maybe visualise
how much of my land you basterdise
yet with your critiques patronise me
I wonder why my cries
are met with a loud bellow of lies
Hmmn, I'm tripping,
who gives a sha what I'm thinking?
since it aint what your nice little thoughts
are thinking
I'm guessing, undressing; naked
then suctioned into soliloquy
heart fractioned smaller than peas
left dessicated,
dedicated to fearing your thoughts of me
pssh...you see me, you know me
but time flew by
deleted the old me
scold me, judge me
try to tell my future
extrapolating from curvatures past
life aint no straight line graph
drop the past, learn from it
take of yourself a radiograph
see your intense defects
and upon them reflect
teach me to hold a better tomorrow
but you'd rather shoot arrows
with words that pierce deep
beyond the heart of the souls' marrow
the truth hurts
but your judgement captains sorrow
so perfect lil world
how is it you're so perfect
as not to see the failure
in your inability to access tranquil behaviour?
yet you're my only saviour
wush...sh together we dive into contumacy
and once again my mind in conturbation
the cycle keeps a steady pace of replication
but tell me why
this world cant seem to mind its own
while the blood of my thoughts
spill out a collage of lonsomeness
where i find joy and kindness
away from the world and all of its likeness.

Fimisola-Samuel

Woman

She's born of another
and to others;
a mother.
A friend like the rose
gentle and thorny
cultured and principled
free, like the living rivers.
All of her is beauty
inside and out
like how he desires.
She speaks truth
but in words;
moussed with fire
over a tongue that rolls;
whilst his kiss, is acquired.
She can foretell the future
from the feelings in her gut
that may have forgiven
the heavy soils of the past
but not forgotten its smell.
Inquisitive as a shadow, yet,
as mysterious as dark.
A conundrum, sunk in attraction,
as his approach
she meets with decorum
and a hint of seduction
watch you shiver to your liver,
tickle your spine,
like drops of frozen wine
as each eyelash, shuts against another
like; ka-boo--oom! -...
your brain capsizes; whooom!
you hear your heart drum,
as from her words she relays persistence.
Strong,
the power behind his very essence
yet gifted with palms,
that have minimal use of friction,
placed on your skin,
drives you to tumescence.
She makes him look handsome,
his ego, bigger than it is
her sanctum, innermost of which they both lay
site of eternal worship
isn't it amazing how she makes a house a home.
Yet all this she may
and everyday still hold her own,
is as a dove is, to the very core of her bone,
but her path if you cross as you may,
you'll find exactly,
where raging dragons lay.

Fimisola-Samuel

Schitzo's Note

The night is endless

the morning has no future

the day is blind

and at this point all hope is lost.

I stretched out my arms

they're pushed back by the bars of freedom

too much of it, left in confusion

a contusion of the mind

or yet maybe tedium

I find myself sitting in obtundation

and time cannot be contained

yet another day has walked

don't ask me how,

but it did just as it came; empty.
I cry out so loud
I hear it from a mile

Yet in my ears the silence rings

I have it all, humbled by my nothingness

what am I looking for?

if you ask me, its nothing I'm sure.

My thoughts racing,

like from morning through evening

sentences framed from pictures

of thoughts broken,
coagulated into colourful pieces

spilling out like juices of light

from the endless circling of a kaleidoscope,

bodily motions and gesticulations

to all of which I'm seemingly lackadaisical

you hear me and think;
"what a piece, so anecdotal
O! what peace it is not to care,
or know what the world thinks."
The grains of sand dancing in the wind
wondering along my lash
what a feeling of life

a gift I should be thankful for

a chance at normal, I pray for each day

though my ways unruly as they may

I'm learning to see peace in the eyes of the sun.

Today I took 2 tabs, with my coffee and tea,

as with each morning

but I walked down the bridge
read this and know,

so long I've been buried

deep within the belly of the sea.

Fimisola-Samuel

Picture by , Toon by

Beautiful Piece from Broken Pieces

Whole I was made
deception played a serenade
tumbled over pride
I lost my secuirty
shattered into obscuirty
I had died, to my identity.



To eyes without acuity
my shambles,
were percieved as ugly.
Pieces kicked itinerantly
hopeless and lost
I remained, inevitably.



Piece after another
days rolled after each other
He had collected pieces
and made for Himself
in the eyes of the beholder
a perfect idea.


They laughed at His folly
I had lost my glory
"in your eyes" He said.
As he unravelled the new me
dumbfounded, He shocked they,
that knew the old me.


Uniquely way past beautiful
the cracks and patches left me.
and from inside each crevice
He radiates my glory
I'm remolded, piece by Piece

into; a beautiful piece from broken pieces.

Picture By: Woomie

"such perfection in the hands of the potter..."

To the woman

To the woman,
who taught me in the way I should go
to the woman I pray
sorrow may she never know.
For her kind and loving soul
and hands that upheld my grey
as the world slowly turned away
to the woman I pray
that her peace never be stained.
for her many nights without sleep
and her numerous days without food
for all the miles she walked
that my entity I may keep
to the woman I pray
long life, happiness and strength
so in due season
from her labour, may she reap.
Have u ever been loved so deep
constantly,
every second of each 365,
have u ever been paid such attention
I mean: her ears heard each irregular breath.
even her back,
knew who it was when I walked.
Will you ever know such care?
constantly at my service all day,
from conception till her last breath
feeble hands or blurry eyes
her hands never tire
to cradle me on her chest
even when she knows, that, I detest.
And so to the woman I pray,
the comfort of heaven.
For not flushing me down the drain
for each and everyday that she stayed
for love and tolerance no other will ever have
for all her prayers everyday
even as we're miles away,
To the woman I say
you've done wonderful
keeping your home and
thank you for being so sure
even when I, saw no future.

                                          The Hawkeye
To every woman
and all mother's especially,
Happy mother's day.
Fimisola-Samuel

8-May-2011

My Kind of woman: A valentine in words

She is graceful like a ballet 

peaceful like the violin 

well spoken like words 

and her beauty is penned in figurative lines

that reveal the artistry 

of her creators stencil.

Her figure and curves 

are calligraphycally exotic,

like a pencil

her smile shades away tears 

that endless years of blue and black 

have collected.

In her eyes is the suns beautiful glare

into which when i stare

my glory is reflected

for like a crystals glare 

the best about me 

she brings out and bears.

Her faith is strong,

elegantly unmatched,

it's the bone that collars my neck.

She touches me 

and heals my wreck.

Her cotton soft hands

laced in pearls of love

strum my efforts with joy

and when I drown in rivers

they wrap around me in faith.

She makes the stars shine brighter

and her smile adds an 'er to the words; 

sexy,

and pretty,

prettier than all other

oh what a cutie.

The skin that sleeves her hands 

simply is; to touch, soothing.

Calming, relaxing,

are the words she airs,

she dispenses them with glory

intelligently sophisticated 

and yet no ounce of pride.

My Joy, My kinda woman

                                                        Woman by window: patent place

whose soulfulness 

moves my body 

to the rhythm of her blues,

whose pulse is the tempo 

to which my heart dances.

My kinda woman 

who has hands

and is willing to use them

and still respect me as her man,

guide and provider.

Whose occupation not need be a chef

but handles her business well enough

it keeps me wanting more

no precautions about concoctions 

just pure satisfaction.

whose warmth not only radiate

from the silky smooth 

and beauty

of her ravishing nakedness,

what unharmed pulchritude

that so delicately keeps me insatiable

it's awing effect

like a butterfly out its cocoon,

but  also from knowing 

I wake beside the grandmother

of my childrens' children

and her infinite beauty

even in they yet unborn.

I know what you're selling 

and I'm very happily buying

you're such a beautiful conundrum

i hear drums sounding immaculate

it's my heart beating

to the tune of your love.

So I'm testing this river with both feet 

walking on flaming coal

to place all my eggs in a basket

at your door,

open your heart 

and let trust be the bridge

between the gaps of our heart

and love the screw

that keeps 'em together...

Love you this valentine and beyond...

Fimisola-Samuel

2/13/2011