Will you remember me?

I walked in the glory radiated from your claps.
My feet on carpets I'd never dreamt of, perhaps,
only in my wildest imaginations.
Fascinations of the human brain,
I am lost in its calculations
and my audience, seeks to keep listening,
to keep believing, to keep loving the life they be living.
So as to charity, my words I'll keep giving,
the pounds, I'll keep receiving,
these blows in the ring, for some reason, just keep me asking;
         will you remember me?
And the days in the shadows are no longer my testimony,
for I've seen the good life and tasted its money,
I've dined and wined in ridiculously high places,
seen and talked to ridiculously fine faces,
and I know it was just a period I was stuck in my defences,
sitting on the fences,
stuck between the right and the wrong
while I was right, all this time!
         will you remember me?
Shock on all these pretentious faces, for once gone, we're stuck in past tenses,
we lose our senses, and it makes sense because we choose
our own life sentence. Our life is drafted when we are born,
and we are the Chief editors. Each article goes through your hands
and you get to fine-tune it. You are your own creditor.
& inasmuch as nothing is promised, you are your own guarantor.
Lead public lives in the privacy of your insanity, and this., I call this: vanity.
          will you remember me?
So if I died today, would you remember a story I edited?
Will you receive the amount I credited you with,
the thoughts I provoked in your calculative minds,
the smiles I elicited from your manipulative souls?
And I cry not, not because tears fail me,
no, not because fear derails me,
but because we are servants of the now, and the now just passed.
           will you remember me?

Mama pray for me

They are like a soothing massage,

good music to the soul.

They are frighteningly comforting 

and offer a healing hospital beds can not,

a feeling only success knows.

I liken them to a hidden compass in within us,

that finds us when we are lost

and guides us when we are confused.

They are like a blanket to us,

to keep us warm while the night owl howls,

and to cover and protect us from 

the wearies of the night.

They're like a book with pages full of wisdom,

an understanding of the literature of our minds.

They are like a key to doors closed before us,

that silently urges us to keep trying,

to never quit.

They are like the best well-kept secret 

to a fulfilling life, and no, 

I'm not talking about the holy grail,

the Philosopher's stone or something we can't find,

I talk and speak of Mama's prayers.

They grow you when you're young,

feed you when hunger strikes,

they quench the thirst in your pursuits,

and offer sound reasoning in your doubts.

Because when Mama prays, everything falls into place.

She understands your being as she is the reason for it,

she loves you with an understanding to a life she is part of,

she's cared for you before and knows your worth.

She has seen you cry, she knows what you've feared before,

she's seen you at your best and at your worst,

she knows what winning is to you and what losing can do to you,

and most importantly, she's done it before,

she's prayed for you so many times before.

That's why I want you to pray for me Mama.

I want the fragrance of your prayers to speak for me,

I want the emotions you so easily express to speak on my behalf.

I need to feel the reassurance of your words as you speak favour upon my life.

I want to know you still believe in what I can achieve,

I want to know you still see that shine in me,

I want to know you're still grateful for this far we've come,

I want to know you still pray and magic happens;

Mama pray for me.

Pray for me and it'll wash clean my car

and grease up the engines in my life.

Pray for me and it'll clean up my room

that is full of doubts, confusions and unpreparedness,

all scattered on the floor.

Pray for me and it'll do the laundry,

for my clothes are full of dirt and shame,

mistakes and ignorance I picked up

growing up in this world you brought me into.

Pray for me and it'll do my chores,

it'll get the heavy job done for me.

It'll set me back up on the trail to my destiny.

It'll breathe fresh air back into my lungs

and cleanse me of all impurities I've inhaled.

Pray for me and restore me onto the right track, mama.

I run a race that needs your blessing,

bless me with a prayer, mama.

You will always be special to me,

even when am far and away,

in journeys only the walls of your prayer room know,

I'll remember of the nights you spent awake for me,

I'll treasure the prayers you taught us

before we could stand for ourselves,

I'll remember you prayed and I'm here,

you prayed for me before you even had me,

and I'll remember even in pain you prayed for rain,

when we cried out hunger, you prayed for food,

when we did things wrong, you prayed for wisdom.

You prayed for everything,

and we live today because on your knees,

you prayed for our well-being.

I want you to pray for me, mostly because,

God hears you better,

and you know this better...

Mama, pray for me.

50 shades of black

They say "Ambition is priceless"
I say "There's always a huge price to pay for a dream"
"I have a dream" so said Martin Luther King,
"Join the team and wake up" I now reply..
Why? Because you've been sleeping too long.
Your nights are longer than your days
it plays, that you speak so much but dwell in inaction.
Action's a remedy,
to faults in a system,
We've forged into comedy,
so people could listen,
and silently laugh about our problems,
as if to make things better.

We've covered a toxic wound,
a cancer that won't stop growing.
& the joke's on us.
Because the bills keep flowing,
our shame keeps showing,
our boat of insecurity keeps rowing
and that's why the blunts keep rolling..
For higher learning, I guess,
because we now seek approval.
The higher the pay-check,
the lower your standards, disapproval.
The higher they rise,
the lower they fall, pride.
The higher the grades,
the easier it is to see why you really won't get hired.

I'm tired. Are we all wired to think the same?
I think there's a fault in our stars,
yeah, literally.. our superstars.
Because they rap about bad bitches,
and that's our fucking problem.
They don't educate us,
no. We are simple souls lacking edumacation.
We are finished at higher learning, gradumacation.
There's a fire that's not burning, no gratification.
A degree to make me normal
and then there's no more?
A degree to show off
but not at a job interview?
See, we view things differently now:
We've lost sight of all that matters,
We are blind to you haters,
not knowing that our friends are the ones who actually hate us.
You disguise to accuse,
victimize yourself to abuse us,
our rights.

Why am I afraid,
why aren't you my friend?
Aren't you supposed to serve and protect?
Or does that mean you serve me with bullets
and protect yourself from my wisdom, the truth??
Reasons? Prisons are overflowing,
filled to the brim..
See they say a society deprived of young men,
is deprived of leaders.
For readers, you're aware that we follow to lead.
But who are we following?

The internet's a mess,
a bile of disgrace,
apply to impress..
We've been put out of place and enclosed in a space,
full of boundaries, so we can stand on our feet
yes, but can't really stretch.
Oppression has been our cup of tea,
we sip it, we drink it..
but that's none of their business..
even though they make money out of it.
I'm out of it. Yeah. Space for breathing. Air.
They're choking me,
"I can't breathe"
images I've seen on T.V haunting me, I'm sorry.
"Don't shoot" the black equivalent to "Good morning Officer"

We get head but don't use it,
we get jobs and end up blowing it.
If Steve Jobs was alive,
he would tell you to reinvent.
An apple a day keeps the doctor away,
and biting at technology
one tweet at a time,
one update at a time,
one picture at a time,
shall we, reinvent ourselves,
our ideologies,
or shall we, chain ourselves?
Racism, modern day slavery.


50 shades of black,
the title of this piece,
is not of romance,
to ideologies that have imprisoned us.
50 shades of black
the name of this token
is not a fragrance
to our pungent stink of oppression
and through expression,
I hope 50 shades of black
will resonate in your minds,
even up to 50 years from now
to see that, a shade is not indifference,
but a blend of difference.
That defence is not the sure way to win a match,
and that pretence won't serve it's sentence,
to a full-stop, yes.. not until the fool in us
stops, screaming for attention,
because no one has ears for the dumb
no protection.. those who can't speak.
Those who can't talk for themselves.
50 shades of black is a call to unite,
to fight, to rewrite history,
not in violence but through spaces like these,
where we challenge our thinking,
question our drinking,
to drown our problems,
and face them head on.
50 shades of black is us, you and me.
50 shades of black is not primitive,
50 shades of black is not discriminative.
50 shades of black is what we will fabricate to
educate each one of us,
that united we stand
and divided we have fallen before,
and will keep falling, if we don't stop crawling.
50 shades of black is a calling.
Ladies and gentlemen, pick up the phone,
50 shades of black is calling.
Thanks!