Are they really contemporary?

I guess the movies substantially portray solid substance, But is there ever a climax?I see the protagonist through tough toilsome troubles that seem unyielding as a banana tree in the deserts, Like amazing grace through dangers, toils and snares they come.Tragedy or happy ending, There is moment when the protagonist is in spitting distance to earning wings
and the fallout is failure or grand slam.I feel life is having the same plot and setting,And my author deeps more into mystery for my love life,But this kind of mystery is consistent, and on suspense.Despite my consistent persistence, Things never seem to advance. Yes, every that one day of the week I climb the stairs but the radius between as is as static as the pi in math.I have known you from ninth grade and I’m now a professional certificate holder,I don’t no if I ever made a move cause I’m still gazing at you like on first sight.We was using the same route on our way home from our respective schools,I stared at you as you came…

The Physicist Lamentation!

Fhhh fhhh,
Fhhh fhhh.
Big shame man, I can’t whistle even up to now,
Fhhh fhhh,
Well at least I can throw a stone,
Either ways, what’s the use,
A stone can only awake you when I make it land on your roof,
It’s like a scalar you can barely tell the direction,
The impulse between your roof and my stone is so intense, I’m able to hook up in your thoughts,
Sad, I can’t draw you to myself.
I wish I could whistle,
That way you can follow the vibrations of the sound I make.
Sorry I put us in static equilibrium, as you try to figure out the direction of the impulse on your roof.
I know it’s my duty as a man to hit the accelerator,
Trust me I try to but mine seems to be centripetal.
My fault I know, I’m comfortable like this knowing you’re much closer as the radius is infinitesimal.
My fear in following a straight trajectory is that you’ll only bolt and zoom from this our chemistry
They aren’t no externals out there you’ll only leave me constantly.
With Sir Isaac N…

Sweat Blood

Sweat blood,
Word so live as a trade kings add.
When our math teacher said I’ll make you sweat blood for the noise,
We all went tongue-tied, the talkative tight-lipped, so frosty he put us in a cold
The next time someone said university physics will make you sweat blood,
I never saw up and down activity as I had seen a week before the exam.
Like caesium 133 producing 9 192 631 770 circles of radiation in a second, we was
Word so live and heavy as a Bugatti Veyron engine.
Nobody never wants to hear it, but we are subjected just as poor threads of a
wrinkled shirt playing touch with the pressing ion.
Approaching like a lion,
Someone please make me stone deaf defend me with spring watered terms from this
harsh tag for the weak
Meant to scare the shit off, damn I am developing goose bumps, anybody to get me
some booze need to warm up.
Its crushing my wind pipe mmmmhhhh I can barely breath.
With my eyes on the material I can’t feel the love and freedom in my operation…

The power Crisis.

Power Crisis,

Sunday Evening, The house is a tiny passage in the depths of a mountain at night, No one is having their phone we just relocated to fourteen twenty eight, It’s Africa we don’t know about a torch light. Oh yes there is a power cut at home.

Everyone is busy bothering about their business. Trying to be alive and abide by the bearings, No, it’s just not working out.

Seeing that it’s dark as the mind of a thief who is about to snatch a pretty lady’s  handbag in town. I move prudently lest I spill the soup and scatter the supper cause I’m serving.

All of a sudden, I became naive and my mind is pampered with kid stuff, They challenge me just as how the Israelite's were challenged with Goliath the Buff,

I dig into the past and extract my cousin reel off on the witch who covers herself in the pot’s. I realize that I’m having some pot’s on my tray, so I pose, I begin to wonder in what pot the witch might be poking her nose,

Abruptly, all objects on the board begin to bump, There is an earthqu…

The Social-Media Damsel

I see our chat head drop as water would sink in sand, I try to squeeze it out but it only gets my hands damp. I keep upbeat just as a seed would give in all and dive in the damp grounds hoping for growth. For I see our chat head sprouting all the way to the peak when I hit up with a “hey there!” I’m still suspicious and skeptic though on the significance of the sprouting. For my “hey there!” sends a single tick but it’s about us to produce it’s significant other “√√” And so it’s a train on a single rail as a trail it’s surely going to stumble, I see it roll down into the deep valleys and I can’t do nothing. The constructor comes in just as group alerts. And the waste is dumped to the apex, How do I pull it up I’m only a boy with no proper muscle, I call in to customer care for assistance just to tell me that number is off. Wait what? I call in again and still get the same response. It tears apart my blue heart. Like UB40 I take in Red wine thinking you would leave my head. It winds up my mind and ta…

I Have Had Zero Life.

I have been to a point of Zero Life, At a certain conference conversing with the creator, there was I. Neither on earth nor the after-world, but we floated on some space. With no breath cause inhaling had no meaning but still floated comfortably, Yes I have had Zero life.
My feet had turned into some smoky figure with shape as a mermaid tail, I could not feel it though, but it kept me floating in the air as a rocket. But this rocket was not rumbling or roaring rather rested calmly.
So in this conference called for by the creator, He told me my time has been exhausted. Like a tale on it’s climax my get-up-and-go activity was to be concluded. Would I have played dumb dumb, Like I had been eluded? No, it was all cleared.
For a moment I had became a seer, I saw myself kick the bucket, Oh yes I expired. It was hot as a dry day in the desert. Mama was in black veil, black wrapper but never felt the heat. I saw her heating up as the poor threads of a shirt being the victim of a pressing iron, Somehow the he…

If Only I Could Catch Your Mother's Ear

How do I make buddies with the wind? My yell is not vigorous, I can hardly convey my intention. I’m having a question of doubt if you could react instantly when I come to you. But I definitely know that your mother will move you. And that’s true. Somehow I feel like I’m transparent, I know that you know me, But do you ever identify what’s in me. If only the wind could blow in your mom’s ear my message, I know that Mama's are superb in empathizing, And that would give me hope! Hope that someone, somewhere out there is conveying my intention on my behalf. I know that Mama's are superb in empathizing, And that would give me an optimistic approach to this situation, For I know that chances are that you’ll listen to your Mama, You wouldn’t be disobedient, would you? Cause I know for a fact that obedience is listed on your key principles, Yes I know, I know just as the way a monitor would preview whatever the CCTV captures, I know that I know cause John captured in his second chapter
And I can view fro…