A LETTER TO MR POTENTIAL

Dear 'Friend',

I do not know if I have been a true friend, because for sometime now I have been that hammer with a mouthpiece that has relentlessly delivered blows of discouragement upon the frayed tissues of your quivering heart.

I am the one that stared at your at reflection in the mirror of tenacity and spat bile on your face as you tried to face every facet of the phases that faced your face.

Forgive me if you choose, for applying the safety catch when your muscle steadied the muzzle and the bulls eye was scribbling its Will.

I told you the beautiful was not good and screamed that the good was not beautiful, leaving you single, lonely and miserable.

I am that manacle of doubt around your anxious ankles- nailing down...holding back...restraining your feet teetering at the sea of bliss.

It is I that advised you to grasp at her shadow as the substance of Lady Fortune sauntered by.

I was the clamp that shut your lips from glorious oratory and drew from your unwilling tongue the spittle of unsolicited inanity.

I plead guilty to announcing your youth at the dimming dusk and made your grey prance at infantile dawn.

I am the enemy that welcomed you to early bedtime and left you lying listless at the vibrancy of sunrise.

I punched you in the nose and forbade you to bleed.

.....But if you would keep your passion ablaze, then I'd be as powerful as dew upon a rock basking in the tropical sun.

You must kill me, that you may live!

Yours Unfaithfully,

SELF.

KUNLE OMOPE

pic credit- merrillk.com

THE PICTURE

The Picture stood before me, behind me and within me. I stared at its eyes and it wrapped my soul.

Then a road parted like a sea within The Picture...It drew me in and the world disappeared from behind me.

The wind undressed my foresight and I pleasured in the nudity of my desires.

In my birth-robe, I bathed under the waterfalls that trickled voluptuously via the vulva of verisimilitude.

Yes, I was watered with wet wishes and teased with missed kisses...all within The Picture.

The Picture, without walls, The Picture, without boundaries, The Picture without laws!

I couldn't climb out, crawl through or clamber down...because there was no ground and I had lost my shoes, my feet, my will to take flight.

I only had with me, voiceless screams and mindless thoughts from a thoughtless mind.

And no sooner had Bliss sent a mail…that I found myself standing before the Picture.

The Picture stood there, and I stand here.

Then, I realized that The Picture is just a picture.

KUNLE OMOPE.

*insomnialeavemealone*!!!

pic credit- genius.com

FROOFASI THE CITY HUSTLER - 1

****THE TORTOISE HURRIES HOME*****

My name is Froofasi, don't ask where I am from. I am a city hustler, forget about what I do. I am standing with a huge crowd at the bus stop awaiting the next bus. The sun is frying my head and hunger is dancing shoki in my stomach.

The bus appears from a distance and we all sprint toward it.

Surprisingly a woman straddling a toddler to her back outruns all of us in Okagbare stylee and is seated in the front row behind the driver before I find a space beside her.

The unexpected race increases the hungry dance steps in my belly.

The bus moves and another problem begins. The little boy straddled to Okagbare's back starts to cry aloud. Some of the dancers in my stomach move to my head and they start a march parade.

Everybody in the bus kept throwing pieces of advice at the mother of the child.

"Give am breast nah", said an old woman from the back seat.

"Abi na heat dey worry am?", a bushy mouthed man added.

I looked angrily at the weeping and wailing child, wishing he was an adult so that I could teach him a lesson or two on being a public nuisance.

I quickly plugged my ears with my head phones and set Dorobucci by Don Jazzy and his noisy family on repeat play.

A few minutes later, i noticed almost everyone in the bus were dozing while sweating in the standstill traffic. I then cast a look at the tiny terrorist and he was busy nibbling at edges of a GALA sausage roll. My mouth watered as the little rascal eyed me pitifully as if he knew I didn't have a dime on me asides my t-fare . His mum was fast asleep and she also held an unopened GALA sausage roll in her hand, the neat packaging causing more trouble to my life..

"Chai! Man no fit thief", I thought to myself. I quickly reached a decision that no matter when this tortoise of a traffic gets me home, I must knock at, beg or even break down Ali's kiosk. The dancers in my stomach have doubled and na GALA na im fit do am.

Written by:

KUNLE OMOPE

UNTITLED COULD IT BE?

****** UNTITLED ******

If our hearts be deluged

In life's lather of love

And thorny tortuous thoughts

Flame up in fiery fires of friendship

When human hues paint humility

Like a rainbow asleep in the fields,

Then will guns hide their faces

And bullets shall be stillborn,

Peace 'll peep from curtains of war

Savouring stews seasoned with smiles.

KUNLE OMOPE.

Inspired by the movie: BEASTS OF NO NATION.

WORDSLAYER

Hell breaks in my shell

A storm brews in my gut

So I implode to explode

Can you face my coming?

Cos the fire within these balls

Have been stroked and stoked,

Yes, this canon has been poked

And now it chokes, belching smoke,

Burning blokes who are but jokes.

The she they bring is a word,

Asking me if I be a rapper.?

Why wrap her, when I can rape her,

Why smite word, why not slay her?

Cos I aint no Wordsmith but Wordslayer.

You brag here and bring iniquity there

I tread the paths of bragganiquity.

Note: My dear friends, you see what a hot plate of spaghetti and an iced bottle of Coke can do on a Sunday afternoon.

‪#‎Itayaformyself.