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Paul AremoOluwa Arlington cemetery graveyard white tombstones           When I am dead. And my body lay in a temporal home.    All may seem lost and gloom may abound. “ Death is inevitable, ” I hear them say with shrill voices of agony and pain.

My disobedience wounded Him My wickedness bruised Him By my hate I grieved Him His saving hands I nailed Yet unrelenting His love became  

POEM: Quest For Country I am a wanderer wandering in a desert of distant land among these deserted tribes. I walk among peddlers of religion and culture, their petty chatter and discordant meddling, these merchants’ sybaritic fiddling of men’s souls, mowing down as they go. Their barter trade and rhetoric banter a baffle to sanity. In this quagmire of riddles I am in search of my country. Where can I find her? The rustling leaves rotting away beneath my feet return no answer. My homeland once called Green, flowing White with peace, was known as hope to many dreams. In this dusty ash now to search, a descending journey to the catacombs of hell itself, may I see my bride, my country, unhurt and alive. To the depths I now descend.

Lord You made a way In you every need is met And every bill are paid In Jesus matchless name Lord you have done it again. We can stand and testify, Your goodness is great You'll not allow us to be ashamed Neither permit that we carry burdens Too great for our frames

Paul AremoOluwa D ear Love , Crazy things are done in your name Many wounds opened again Fantasy became our reality when you came Intoxicated, he asks her name Kiss, hugs and kisses till dark turn dawn Grief and tears when one be gone Romeo and Juliet all over and again Happily forever never forever happens

I love my daddy's big hands Its like gripping a baseball bat He swings my hands in interlock My eyeballs go up down up down like a bouncing ball I love my daddy's big hands Throwing me up where the wind can't Catching me back when the wind can't Its the only intervals am taller than him I love my daddy's wide palms Scars gave it beautiful markings Tiny little lines across a map They tell me just how hard he works I love my daddy's big smile I gave it to him when I was born Its my first gift to him as his son He says he is proud of me Wrote this poem cos I am proud of him too I love him so much I wish you do Love your daddy the way I do Paul AremoOluwa

ATONEMENT Rebellious and unwilling to be rescued You saved us You gave us Life, hope and love Reaching us with stretched arms Pierced side Grieving heart Bleeding brows Displayed so all men may see Love unafraid to die Hope beyond this life Glory in Suffering Captured, our hearts raptured by love Not by law But your love Beaten, battered and butchered To this cross shall all men come In gross darkness thee we saw Where on the tree thou hung Light brightest shone thee The Son of God We bless thee Mournful mourning for sinners’ plight No hammer or nails No spit or whip Dravest tears out the saviour’s eyes Not stones and screams to “Crucify him!” But the verdict of Condemnation upon all If this cross He wouldn’t embrace Sin, righteousness slayed Death and sorrow’s debt paid Where nothing else prevailed Oh! The passion and fierce love that came That tore our rags away And broke my chains All bl...

  Sparrows flew at eight past In a haste to catch the early morning train Flapping wings heard from troubled beast souring A beautiful sight we behold then the screams The bang swallowed the sound of the coming train We watched the sky for the fleeing black smoke running insane Debris and concrete fell from the sky like rain For the twin towers no umbrella or shades came Cars crashed into another as men deranged We watched in terror as the second plane came It was a disaster, a sudden hurricane It swept away hearts, lives & souls We remember this day The eleventh september that never left us the same. #waronterror #tribute9/11

Snow falls in the mysterious barren city of Sahara Where the beach is cozy and warm in winter Sir Everest is a short fellow in town afraid of heights We heat up fire with hot flames of water. The Poor daydream of favour and refuse to labour The Rich strives daily like a poor man smitten by poverty The forbidden fruits are in high demands in our stores Morals are rotten feeds for street swines. Mr. Murderer is a Judge with one philosophy: If you get killed you are simply foolish and guilty Intelligence hacks the database of  mediocrity The Preacher cries "Lord! I have sinned" The Sinner smiles and say "You are forgiven." Miss truth became a nagging Nun So we had her replaced by Professor Lies. Men wear Make-ups and do chores Women go to work and never get pregnant Shadows are painted in colours Pens are simply erasers What is seen are not real Fiction is our reality and fantasies its pages. Next Poem

Joshua meador rainy windy day Shivering branches scares fleeing birds Waving clothes seeks The cozy corner of a wardrobe Palm trees block against the wind The sky pulls a curtain of blackness Fleeing kids, jumping Josh jams James Litters of rubbish terrified by drops Groaning doors and clapping windows Closing doors closes stalls Noisy roofs and flowing streams Across the street we see a wetting floor Speaking sky yells out thunder Fright and comfort Cool and noise Just another wet day on a suppose Sunday Paul Aremooluwa Copyright Content       2016 Next Poem

Heaven reaches out Knocking roofs & Tar Heaven seeking us Crying out heavy drops Scattered hands drumming loud Every house, every Lot Bells of drumming tears A hundred miles within reach Heavens bid a cold return It reaches to mend the torn Separation cast men gone Heaven longs to seek the lost Elderly, woman, man flee its call It seeks to wash the blood, hatred Street down its core The sweat, cleansing all our sores It brings relief, wind and wet Travelled distance heart resolved With simple message kids  rejoice Drilling life, pounding crust We hear the sail flowing round We know His love we'd seen the cross Caged denial we refuse its thrust Heaven spits the body clean The heart, mind within a sheath The voice we hear, listen you hear Hard knocks knocking roofs out loud Return you vile and gone afar I bid a welcome return Heaven knocking hands reaching Drizzling tears seeking us Greed gripped goons within ...

Within dark, loneliness My company the wind Every glass painted, Images of him Every mirror tainted, Reflections his Walls Echoes chants humming silence Hide and seek He is my thoughts Shattered, Glass and crash His picture frame Ordered, By shaky hands Dark sky draws near The moon reminds He isn't here I grow teary eyes They pick above Shinny tiny gems In shadowy nights I stab the sand with finger and hearts I sprawl on tiles Memories linger From his clothes Arise his haunting smell The spell of him Enchanting I Till I knot his ties Cherishing the hands That knot them once The bathroom wall Reminds, Sparkling his smile I watched him go So went my smile Till he's home These hobbies will I For what is love With little or no despair. Photo credit Image 1: John Foxx Image 2: empowermagazine.com  Next Poem 

What a brief moment life is What a mass of particles our remains, Both on lives and earth Beauty no longer beautiful Ugliness losses cognisance The only action of a corpse is that it remains dead The proud earth walker exit to the lowly soil Its (soil) patience yields an enduring reign For the price of living, The flames of death is ignited Man, many mourn his sorry tale The price for knowing any, ultimately, is tears At the departure of good or evil, Men either talk or weep The rich whisked from his plenty The poor saved from his poverty The gap is breached The long war ends Death welcoming into a big compound, A land no one lords Free at the clause of chained mortals Fairness reigns in this darkness Whatever you know, Know death is neither partial nor a racist Even for the wise, all the health in his bones, Are for the collection of the grave Where they remain fossils in a dark soily library An underst...

O eyes lost in thoughts You see drops of images within my pounding heart Your black misty balls are shiny dark pearls Your trickling sea water scar my cheeks. I see nothing save within I travel distance across your universe I soar across the galaxies of decisions Am a detective who trails the guns and powder. O eyes listen up! Do my good outweigh the wrongs? Down the valley of missed turns and indecisions You are a probing judge Where did i get it wrong? O eyes lost is thoughts Plain or blur what do you see? Binding decisions have binding costs The sour grape of what You've done Endless guesses of what could have been Tick tock tick tock My crystal balls mirror your soul. Next Poem Credit: Image source: www.pinterest.com

AremoOluwa Paul We are no longer under our colonial masters. Shocked? Perhaps this is an assumption and a debate for diplomatic tables. However, though we claim freedom as a country, individually we bow to western "lordship" and acknowledge their supremacy of lifestyle. The mental stroke we suffered years back trails us today. "Germs and deadly bacteria lurk in your fingers," they say, while they handpick pop corns in cinemas. We term our folks "Bush boy/girl" when they feast with their God provided cutlery in our claim of superiority or as west-breeds using forks and knives (mental bankruptcy is emphasized here). Though you wash your hands before you “Level” a plate of pounded yam, you can be sure to offend an unknown black spectator musing at you in a corner. Often a sad news, you are too afraid to chew bones rich in calcium at a restaurant. But you brag about calcium pills as supplements in place of the bones you threw away a while ago. When ...