About life and death but using the euphemism of Garden and roses. The roses are actions and results. The garden is life and leaving it is death.
There has always been a game of superiority over the black for many years now. This poem is to give voice to the black that they matter, we matter!
It is the philosophy of a person, lost in his head, lost in the world. It is the philosophy of a person who can’t find himself any longer.
I’ve been caged by unforgiveness for years without realizing the effect it was having on me. I lost joy and peace. Though I was hurt I felt I had the right to punish those who hurt me. The interesting side was that I was hurting those who were ready to love me. This poem is from a deep side.
UNIFORM: This poems talks about the inequality, that has led to sects in Nigerian society.
A simple poem that reflects our mind back to death even while we celebrate life.
Like every other aspect of human culture, Music has experienced a series of changes. Be it in terms of lyrical content, genre, or use of instrumentals. For an average man, the love and attractiveness towards music have occupied a substantial space in his body, mind, and spirit. If he is stressed out, angry, joyous; whichever way his mood swings too, listening to music soothes his mind. It brings with it, peace and tranquility for the betterment of his wellbeing.
However, modern-day music, on a large scale, has become endowed with poor, non-substantial contents, which has led many to believe the notion that “Lyrics is of no importance when the beat is melodious.” This is evident in most people who always say: We don’t listen to the lyrics. We only dance to the beats.” Fair enough, that’s the absolute truism of today’s musical world.
This poem seeks to address a few things, part of which are:
– Stigmatization of non-listeners of music
– How songwriters and artists have succeeded in creating a social distance between their listeners and their Creator.
– Violence and social vices are promoted through musical content.
Hopes hanged above,
spread below like mat,
pragmatic lives in Hades
and God helps who help themselves
Death an invisible being that passes information before the day breaks.
My father said:
No man walks off a good dream except those weaken by the aftermath of choices . That’s why thunder and lightening mate; to birth a pluviophile: someone who’d live to perform unrehearsed scripts.