The one that decides most suicides.

The one that whispers to your ears “tomorrow’ll be okay”,

yet if you put so much hope in hope,

you easily lose trust in hope,

’cause truth is, not all tomorrows will be okay.

But tomorrow I know I’ll again be fool of hope

when she whispers that the day after tomorrow will be okay.

How does she do that?


Hope is the one behind placebo pills,

Mr. Doc don’t dare claim ownership!

but for the hope in placebo capsules the patients would have lost it

as other hopeless ones hop in.


Hope is the reason your love didn’t broach the queer cologne last night.

Doesn’t mean she didn’t smell it, she just hoped it wasn’t it.

Hope is why you dared go home smelling it in the first place,

hoping she won’t notice it, but she did.

One day she might have enough of hope.

Might be the day you lose hope in love. Tragic.

Thank hope for promiscuity.




Hope is why some wrinkles show sooner than others,

some smiles come slower than others,

her trust came easier than hers.

Hope isn’t kind to most drunks.

The bar booms in hopelessness.

Did I mention that I lose hope every now and then?

Hope is everything. She’s religion, psychology…

oh look, like me,ecology is losing hope!

Hope is healthy. When hope leaves your heart,

you get an attack.


God thrives in hope. Good thrives in hope.




Not to Show Love

I choose not to show love.

Doesn’t mean within I don’t yield love

but is expression of it worth it, when they always target your loved ones?

I’ve done dirt in the past

and I can’t show them you’re the one I love

because my victims might snatch you from me at any time.


I choose not to show love,

for what good is expression of love,

when mere likes repel?

She learned that I love her, then started to rebel.

She liked me, but disliked me when I reached out to her heart for more.

Perhaps she had already chosen not to show love.



I choose not to show love,

for I know how it feels to be robbed off love.

I’d rather go back to my dirt,

in my loved ones hearts leaving no traces of it.

No love relics.

In that way, I’ll spare my loved ones the weight of missing me once I perish.


I choose not to show love,

for the person you love mirrors who you are. But mirrors break.

With blood, dirt, shit and all filth my hands are filled.

And with my touch, I don’t wanna get your tender, chubby cheeks blemished.

Besides, I’m not even certain that your heart beats in the same rhythm as mine.

That’s why I choose not to show love.


Peep the speechless then ask yourself if that stutter is worth a shudder.

Face situations, but embrace only the bubbly.

The ugly, overlook such information.

Meditation is essential for introspection and knowledge of self.

On the shelf, should be thoughts of hate, envy and such things as vengeance.

What’s strange is, the sublime,

yet almost divine sensation that comes with hand-holding.

The word I’m molding, is just alphabets combined with punctuation.

Actualization is what it takes to achieve the word “HAPPY”.

Like a puppy, I smile through the agony that comes with canine shedding,

shading my happy from radiation and the sun’s scorch.

Of course it’s a cold world

but I know the code to the word “HAPPY”.


Witness the roofless then ask yourself if that shack is worth the fuss.

The first stride towards “HAPPY” is counting one’s own blessings.

Best things in life are free, most might disagree.

Most probably, it’s because your perception of best things is best material things.

Question is, does it call for cash to be grateful for that pulse?

Plus, pals are a treasure that only family may half the times surpass.

But the last supper as depicted by the Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth

reveals that;

even your trusted friend might offer your cheek a smack.

A smack would you reciprocate?

Receive my take;

I’d rather replenish the soils of friendship gone sour

with sprinkles of forgiveness.

The essence of happiness is letting the bygones be bygones.

A smirk can easily be equated to a smile.

Matter of fact, it’s defined as one.

Best way to sail through the seas of friendships,

regardless of authenticity is this;

Deliberately mistaking a smirk for a smile.

Break bread with the enemy and you never know,

they may flirt with guilt when they stick a knife on your back.

Of course it’s a cold world,

but above are some codes to the word “HAPPY”.

This Man!

He emphasizes his words whenever he says “You’re pretty”,

but somehow always forgets to COMPLIMENT that with “,kind and caring”.

When you’re hurt, he’s quick to hug as “comfort”.

But feel his heart, does it feel pity?

And when talking to him, if your eyes were around your chest,

he’d probably reciprocate the way his, you stare.


You let him inside, but he’s more about making love than feeling love.

But can a player juggle the pitch & the terrace to feel his own game’s thrill?

You think & tell him how man he is. His reply, “nice curves you have’’.

Your love is genuinely from within, but he only bills for your body in the deal.

Unfortunately, you love him so much that this fact you can’t see.


Oh look what we have here; a bigger behind, & a slender waist.

You trace a glow on his face, but his face isn’t facing you.

You try reaching him, but your calls he won’t pick anymore.

He found a more physically appealing deal and you’re left fading into his history.

A man of many tastes, is a man who wastes. He’s one you should detest.

You got bitten on first experience. But how could you have known ooh innocent ewe!