Hello,This is me!

Olatuja Oloyede

Creative Writer Professional Web Designer Content Editor

About me

Hello

I'mOlatuja Oloyede

A Writer and a Tech Enthusiast

As a creative content writer, I have written over 400 poems, published books for many international organizations mostly in the United States, United Kingdom and Columbia. You will find many of my personal works on creativearena.org.ng. I also design all kinds of websites at pocket friendly prices. My area of expertise includes, but not limited to business or company websites, blogs, e-commerce, portfolios, community websites, multi-level marketing platforms, and e-learning platforms. I have my client-base both within and outside the continent of Africa. I also provide hosting services, cheap domain registration and almost free web maintenance for web owners and designers. I love astronomy with a special interest in astrobiology. I am curious to know if life exists beyond our planet and what form it might be. I love swimming, cycling, playing open-world games and simulation games. I sing, play piano, flutes, drums and trumpet, each with different degree of mastery. My conviction of God and divinity is not stereotypical and therefore not subjective to questionable theocracies of dogmatic minds. Sometimes, I wish I was born a billion years from now. Maybe then, teleportation, telepathy, time travel and telekinetic energy will not be mere fantasies of pseudoscience but a normalized technology of the age. But will humans be around for that long? I am curious the sun might swell in fury as a giant star and raze the earth to vapor or contracts with dull flames into a dwarf star and the earth will sink in stoning ice forever. Unfortunately, we will be gone with our curiosities except only if the soul of man is truly indestructible. I am frail, fallible, and human. I prioritize love, and humanity. I wish we let animals thrive in their habitats without killing them (especially the harmless ones) for food. I am Olatuja Oloyede and below are links to my other websites.

experience

Web Design

2012-till date

With several years into web design and development, I have landed some impressive gigs and delivered amazing projects to organizations within and outside the United States. My web design firm started as HOT in 2012 later, TechlinkNig in 2017 and now Hubnig since 2019. These changes are necessitated by the constantly growing range of services rendered. Hubnig.com currently offers services in different categories, including web design, android applications, domain registration and hosting services, e-learning, multivendor services etc. Kindly check www.hubnig,com for details.

Creative Content Creator

2018-till date

I started my ghostwriting career officially in December 2018 and I have been able to work with individuals, groups and organisations from different countries of the world. Writing is my passion. I have written over 300 poems, short stories, faction and fictions.

Connection Avenue

2017

I worked in the academic department

Creative Arena

2012-2016

Web Engineer

service

Web Design

I design all kinds of websites. I can help you design your blogs, portfolio websites, landing page, e-commerce websites, school websites, religion or group websites, among others.

Multiplesub.com

This is my data and airtime automated vending platform. Our products are all offered at discount company price. You can get your airtime, data, cable tv subscriptions, exam cards, electricity bills, etc, on the website.

Creative Arena

This is my creative freelancing firm. We ghostwrite, copywrite, rewrite, or enhance your ideas and intentions in a uniquely captivating way. We have clients within and outside the continent. In case you need a writer for your projects or ideas, you can contact me for more details.

Hubnig.com

This platform offers a wide range of online services and opportunities. You can register for free to sell your products online, manage your store and reach global audience. You can choose to resell existing products at your own price and make profits. You can learn to become a web designer yourself. Visit hubnig.com to learn more.

Subnig.com

This is like multiplesub.com. I would encourage you to use the first website. But this is an alternative platform for all our airtime and data vendors.

Oloyede.com.ng

Oloyede Templates is a platform that offers over 2000 predesigned templates and installations for free to web designers. Check details of this at the above website.

45

Web Designed

7

Apps built

290

Creative Jobs Taken

400

Students

Blog

The Lost Way

The lost way

With sober hearts I tolled
Looking on disturbed and disloved
I realised I've been long gone
And missed my path on the long run

Slowly my foot left the rock
As I fell into the hands of unforgiving thorns
My preety life shredded all but once
I never knew what I'd just lost

My wobbly feet still stood tall
Shaking firmly when strong but weak
Knowing my life was lost with doubt
I lost hope now with the lights all out

I wandered of with hopes set high
When life was up and i was down
When my dreams,desires left me and
Walked on the normal stony path of life

Then i saw a turning point
And saw an open heaven
The warm skies fell on me
A ray of light I prayed to see

The path is gold
The road is home
Having fulfilled my only goal
I'm prepared to let my soul go

©Tujahsuccess
#Advopoet
#selfdiscovery
#Jesusinme

Shaped Stones

Shaped Stones

I will lay thy stones with fair colors – Isa 54:11

The stones from the wall said, "We come from the mountains far away, from the sides of the craggy hills. Fire and water have worked on us for ages, but made us only crags. Human hands have made us into a dwelling where the children of your immortal race are born, and suffer, and rejoice, and find rest and shelter, and learn the lessons set them by our Maker and yours. But we have passed through much to fit us for this. Gunpowder has rent our very heart; pickaxes have cleaved and broken us, it seemed to us often with out design or meaning, as we lay misshapen stones in the quarry; but gradually we were cut into blocks, and some of us were chiseled with finer instruments to a sharper edge. But we are complete now, and are in our places, and are of service.

You are in the quarry still, and not complete, and therefore to you, as once to us, much is inexplicable. But you are destined for a higher building, and one day you will be placed in it by hands not human, a living stone in a heavenly temple.

“In the still air the music lies unheard;
In the rough marble beauty hides unseen;
To make the music and the beauty needs
The master’s touch, the sculptor’s chisel keen.

“Great Master, touch us with Thy skillful hands;
Let not the music that is in us die!
Great Sculptor, hew and polish us; nor let,
Hidden and lost, thy form within us lie!”

© Streams in the Desert

The End of Our Strength

Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed – John 20:29

How strong is the snare of the things that are seen, and how necessary for God to keep us in the things that are unseen! If Peter is to walk on the water he must walk; if he is going to swim, he must swim, but he cannot do both. If the bird is going to fly it must keep away from fences and the trees, and trust to its buoyant wings. But if it tries to keep within easy reach of the ground, it will make poor work of flying.

God had to bring Abraham to the end of his own strength, and to let him see that in his own body he could do nothing. He had to consider his own body as good as dead, and then take God for the whole work; and when he looked away from himself, and trusted God alone, then he became fully persuaded that what He had promised, He was able to perform. That is what God is teaching us, and He has to keep away encouraging results until we learn to trust without them, and then He loves to make His Word real in fact as well as faith.—A. B. Simpson

I do not ask that He must prove 
His Word is true to me, 
And that before I can believe
He first must let me see.
It is enough for me to know
’Tis true because He says ’tis so;
On His unchanging Word I’ll stand
And trust till I can understand.
—E. M. Winter

© Streams in the Desert

The Evening Lamorin was Murdered

THE EVENING LAMORIN DIED



We walked the bushy path in silence
The evening Lamorin was murdered
That was not the first time someone was killed
But the young doctor had just returned home 
From lands beyond the oceans 
Ladened with western accolades 
Making his fathers proud
His head was removed
And his private parts butchered

Fear use to be the colour of nights
But now, even the days are nothing safer

Then father said me, son

Once upon a time
Lies were told in secret
Innocence was the bracelets of childhood
Love was the bead
Around the waist of our youths
The grey hair of the elders 
Was their cap of wisdom

Peace swept down
From the seven mountains encamping us
Across our happy roofs
Cowries were everywhere
Like sands canopy the shore

Once upon a time
The wind bellowed with freshness
The rain showered with abundance
The leaves were green and the rivers clean
Hunters dance home 
With shoulders burdened with antelopes
Farmers sing home
With baskets full of yams

But the howl of life has cried
And the magistrates of time are blind
In the darkness of these witching hours
The feet of doom-dancers are gathered
To sway to the rhythm of our downfall

Could this be the price we must pay
For letting the hands of strangers
Draw the lines of our lives?
Could this be the punishments we must endure
For allowing foreigners define who we are?

The hands of the child
Are no more stained with dust of ignorance
But adorned with the blood of their kinsmen

The hunger for life has
Invited the tyranny of death
The elders are the ones 
Negotiating at the tables of the devil
Since kings have made pacts with lions
What is the fate of the infants
Who cannot defend themselves 
Against the selfishness of the "gods"

Now this land quivers
In resounding echoes
Of the thundering fall of the giants
And that is just the beginning of the ending

This is the conspiracy of the ages
That can neither be forgiven
Nor forgotten

©Olatuja Oloyede





 



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Unknowingly

Unknowingly.
(SOUL POET)


A glance in
Her eye emits warmth.

Her gentle smile
Awakes my zzz heart.

Her glowing lips,
Her leaping buttocks.....
All emitted passions.

Unknowingly,
You've fallen for me.
_niyeric9518


When woman falls for a man, she throws him every banner to read. Cowardly, she has less gait to confess her feeling.*


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Jagunlabi


Jagunlabi




During the reign of Olugbon
I made three shawls
In the time of Aresa
I made six shawls
In the reign of Aresa,
I bought velvet and Sanyan the king of all clothes

Here comes the ominous reign of Jagunlabi
The sage’s word we had neglected
We sold chickens and purchased Guinea-fowls
The Bugler in Agbada offered to help fix our doors
And we were never suspicious, shame!!!
Who puts a cat in charge of chickens?

My Father’s father bought six shawls in Aresa’s days
A shilling for one in Jagunlabi teary times I have not
Igunugun circles our circles searching for carcass of our dead
The village maidens now sing dirges behind the curtains
For their hunger sunken buttocks will not wiggle to Ayangalu’s drum
Nor will their once sumptuous breast be a delight in the gathering of men

Tell Jagunlabi in his rocky castle
He who stoops to hunt rabbit holes forgets that his own rare is exposed
Tell his elected chief eagles, who are incapable of snatching a chick
The thumbs that thumbed you power, will unseat you from the high places

FOOTNOTES

Olugbon and Aresa- Yoruba kings with prosperous reign
Jagunlabi- A tyrant king
Sanyan- A traditional Yoruba cloth worn on special occasion
Igunugun- Vulture 

Amudipe Opeyemi Marcus


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Sister Mary Necklace

Sister Mary's Necklace


Sister  Mary's necklace 
I have been caught by her beautiful beauty 
Like a fish in the neck 
My heart becomes a mortar and her eyes 
A pistol whenever I gaze around her neck. 
Sister Mary's necklace 
Whose ornament of trinket captured my timid eyes
Causing my lips to make soundless sighs of grasping twice
Whose ornament rolls in a valley subdued between two mountains 
Or perhaps towers of grace
Forgive me father, for I put too much 
Words on
Maybe I read too much of the songs of Solomon
Only heavens knows the treasures that lies in the
secret Place beneath her habit
Her  smikes I love, plus your caring habit
Your gentle gaze caused my mind to race 
Into an unknown land I can not trace 
Causing hands movement into the darkest of places
Even in the presence of solemn praises 
Oh sister Mary, how can I describe your tender embrace? 
Warmer than a cathigan made with fur
But too rapid like the space in between my pace
Your celestical dove on the chest I first admire 
When I was four and  all  I remember was that 
My heart became dim and somehow blur
It caused my the meshing of our souls in circles
Sister Mary 
Who makes me scream "holy Mary mother of our savior" 
For the thought of her savors my tender sins
 For her body I see, even I my dreams 
For  here I am at the confessional, 
Forgive me father  for it has been years since my last confession

Balogun David Tolulope+ anonymously anonymous {drunk poet} 

©️2017

 

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PAGES: 86 

GENRE: LITERARY CRITICISM





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Helen of Troy

HELEN OF TROY

©
{Soul Poet}

Helen,
The  bringer of a thousand ships
The archer of trojan war
Woman of light and shade.

At Sparta, I was not horny,
I was indifferent to naked fairest.
The sun was not set,
Far away, I must sail.
Tell Aphrodite,
Helen is Menelaus Queen.


Noah ark, I sailed,
Stand back, the Troy doom.
Her innocent eyes, a greenlight.
Her gentle lap, a trojan horse.
Her reddish breast, Paris wine.

Helen Lusting, 
Treacherous Greek Lords 
Are Watching watchmen.

Helen, seductive tempest.
Achilles in afterlife, Paris of Troy,
Delphobus, Theseus, Menelaus...
All drank from her goblet.

Tell all,
Sparta is not Harbor,
Far away I must sail
Like a soaring Eagle.
_niyeric9518



At Sparta.... ordeal with treacherous Greek Lords, and with Helen of Troy, a woman of tear and sorrow.


I Have Seen the Future

I have Seen the Future 



I have seen the future
drawn from visions of memory 
splattered across the canvas of history 
somewhere between yesterday
and tomorrow, we had an epiphany 

I have seen the future, I say
where our senses are no longer assailed 
by cicatrixed monstrosities 
assaulting our sensibilities 

I have seen the future 
the beautiful ones have been born, 
of the tyranny of our masters we have been shorn 
and the land inherited by the pure 

I have seen the future 
every dreariness and gray 
has been driven away 
and our horizon is hued 
in magenta, gold and blue 

I have seen the future 
guinea corn and goat 
need not fear the rain 
the avalanche of terror's reign 
has become obscure 

I have seen the future 
where the line between stranger
and kin has become blurred
and water is just as thick as blood 
Tell me now, doesn't it look good. 


©Wunderkind

Mistakes of Our Heroes Past

The Mistakes of Our Heroes Past


Arise, O ye unworthy sons
Conceived in the belly of an harmless zebra 
Raised by fathers of gutless mind
Who dug our Graves with golds
Gotten from their unquenching cravings for dusted 
Fantasy of our shoveled dreams
They battled with the ones in white skin
"heroes" they were called, cause they fought 
In one anchor 
The sang of songs from the lips like birds 
Defending their territory, lyriced freedom. 
But the corpse of shame litters our gaze 
The injured hearts with withered hope of greatness
Bleed our progress 
So we weep  heavily in saddened outburst 
Cause we failed and our blood has turned black 
For we "unworthy sons" they begot 
The black bird of woes cries in a desolate 
Place 
For even the bones mourn us for their odds 
We are! 
Of what now be their heroic deeds? 
Of what scores now be their victory? 
For we search apprecia-fun, 
When our little knowledge is torn. 
©️ Balogun David Tolulope 
{drunk poet} 
2017

Boy at the Bend of the River


Omiri, the great boarderless river of Tansa
Has grown wicked horns

Ever since the prophets came from the city
To sacrifice to her goats and cows
They say she's angry and bloodthirsty.
But the blood of bulls are not enough
She prefers the soup of flesh 
Cooked in human skulls


Omiri, the bathing place of my birth
The dazzling rainbow of my childhood
The dangling jewels of my youth
I never knew you will grow this cruel.

You are now the cave of thieves
The dome of darkness
The breeding ground of murderers.

Are you angry because all your children left
To distant towns and cities
In search of education and global acceptance
Vowing never to return
Until they are drenched in western degrees?

Is it because of that company 
Sailing freely on the bed of your waters
Those visitors you gave a drink
Have grown too big to keep
Now they feast on your children
No more fishes in the river
No more sons in the land
Is that why you mourn and haunt the land?

***********************************

Just as the sun tied his wrappers of darkness
Sinking into the firmament of the horizon
I decided to take a long walk by the river
If the memories of my innocent childhood will be rekindled

There are some questions in my hearts unanswered
Things have change and so have you

I stroll down the bank of your water
At the river bend
Where the big Omuona tree stood
I saw a boy playing with the sand
A bony malnourished child
Exposed to the tyranny of the world
Who had lost his way in this complex life
I heard my own breath under my nostrils
As my heart pants with curiosity


"Boy, who are you?"

A little pleading faced stared long at me
His face swollen with too much tears and hunger
His mouth shivering in an overboiling evening
Then he answered

"I don't know"

"Where are you from?"
"I don't know"

"Where are your parents?"
"I don't know"

"Who are your parents?"
"I don't know"

"What will you eat this evening?"
"I don't know"

"Where will you go from here?"
"I don't know"

Millions like him are scattered across the earth
Homeless and helpless
He stood before me chewing only one tasteless song
He has chewed all his life

"I don't know"

Is hunger the fate of one
And abundance the destiny of the other?
The divided the lots of men?
Who determined the course of life?

I stood bewildered
Not just because of this boy
But because I too do not know who I am

They said my father was a young predator
And my mother his early victim
Who after planting his seed in fertile soil of her womb
 Took to his heals never looking back
But mother could not wear those rags of disgrace for too long
So she came down to Omiri river to end her life

There under the Omuona tree 
She gave birth to me
Leaving me without a second look
 In the dust facing the sun
To face the wickedness of life alone
Unwashed, uncuddled, untended

She drown herself
And the water swept her body away
Far into that distant land of death
Beyond where my tears could retrieve

I am a boy who never knew the tender touch of a mother
Or the protection of a father

Though a barren widow rescued
But I had learnt early in life to survive alone
Bringing sunshine and happiness to the old woman's life


But here is a boy too
Who do not know who he is
Could it be that his father had done what my own father did?
And his mother what my own mother did?
Could it be that the world has conspired against him?

Could I be the angel sent 
To this lost and lonely kid?
Could he be another greatness 
Wasting away in the slums?

Yes in deed he was
**********************************


When I look back at that very day
When I met the boy at the bend of the river
That beautiful evening hidden under the planks of years
Rolled hurriedly away in the wind
A blossoming flower of joy springs in my heart
A cloud of satisfaction gathers in my spirit

For two weeks now
TV and radio stations have been roaring his name
He had just won the election



© Olatuja Oloyede






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Only on the Footing of Grace

When Dr. Carey was suffering from a dangerous illness, the enquiry was made, “If this sickness should prove fatal, what passage would you select as the text for your funeral sermon?” He replied, “Oh, I feel that such a poor sinful creature is unworthy to have anything said about him; but if a funeral sermon must be preached, let it be from the words, ‘Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy lovingkindness; according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions.’” In the same spirit of humility he directed in his will that the following inscription and nothing more should be cut on his gravestone:—
William Carey, Born August 17th, 1761: Died- -
“A wretched, poor, and helpless worm
On thy kind arms I fall.”
Only on the footing of free grace can the most experienced and most honoured of the saints approach their God. The best of men are conscious above all others that they are men at the best. Empty boats float high, but heavily laden vessels are low in the water; mere professors can boast, but true children of God cry for mercy upon their unprofitableness.
We have need that the Lord should have mercy upon our good works, our prayers, our preachings, our alms-givings, and our holiest things. The blood was not only sprinkled upon the doorposts of Israel’s dwelling houses, but upon the sanctuary, the mercy-seat, and the altar, because as sin intrudes into our holiest things, the blood of Jesus is needed to purify them from defilement. If mercy be needed to be exercised towards our duties, what shall be said of our sins? How sweet the remembrance that inexhaustible mercy is waiting to be gracious to us, to restore our backslidings, and make our broken bones rejoice!

Solitude

SOLITUDE


And he took him aside from the multitude – Mark 7:33

Paul not only stood the tests in Christian activity, but in the solitude of captivity. You may stand the strain of the most intense labor, coupled with severe suffering, and yet break down utterly when laid aside from all religious activities; when forced into close confinement in some prison house.
That noble bird, soaring the highest above the clouds and enduring the longest flights, sinks into despair when in a cage where it is forced to beat its helpless wings against its prison bars. You have seen the great eagle languish in its narrow cell with bowed head and drooping wings. What a picture of the sorrow of inactivity.
Paul in prison. That was another side of life. Do you want to see how he takes it? I see him looking out over the top of his prison wall and over the heads of his enemies. I see him write a document and sign his name—not the prisoner of Festus, nor of Caesar; not the victim of the Sanhedrin; but the—“prisoner of the Lord.” He saw only the hand of God in it all. To him the prison becomes a palace. Its corridors ring with shouts of triumphant praise and joy.
Restrained from the missionary work he loved so well, he now built a new pulpit—a new witness stand—and from that place of bondage come some of the sweetest and most helpful ministries of Christian liberty. What precious messages of light come from those dark shadows of captivity.
Think of the long train of imprisoned saints who have followed in Paul’s wake. For twelve long years Bunyan’s lips were silenced in Bedford jail. It was there that he did the greatest and best work of his life. There he wrote the book that has been read next to the Bible. He says, “I was at home in prison and I sat me down and wrote, and wrote, for joy did make me write.”
The wonderful dream of that long night has lighted the pathway of millions of weary pilgrims. That sweet-spirited French lady, Madam Guyon, lay long between prison walls. Like some caged birds that sing the sweeter for their confinement, the music of her soul has gone out far beyond the dungeon walls and scattered the desolation of many drooping hearts.
Oh, the heavenly consolation that has poured forth from places of solitude!—S. G. Rees



© Streams in the Desert

Darkness

DARKNESS
.
.
"Goodnight Mum"
"Yeah, good night honey. And don't stay up late this time."
"okay mum, I promise." I replied.  I smiled as I watched mum climb up the stairs to her room. It was past nine and I wasn't feeling sleepy yet so instead of going to my room and tossing from one part of the bed to the other or staring at the ceiling, I decided to watch the last three episodes of Game of Thrones, Season 6.
There I was until I started seeing Klaus fighting against Elijah Michaelson. While wondering what could possibly cause the fight between the brothers this time, the next scene showed Dominic Torredo and his team jumping off a plane in their various cars and Romeo screaming his guts out. The cars parachuted through the air for some time and when it was close to the ground, they released d parachute and the cars came raining from above and were about hitting the ground with a heavy thud when...
I jerked awake and saw the stupid movie still playing instead of pausing when it noticed I was no longer watching. Grinning at the thought of having such automatic TV that pauses whatever it's displaying until    the viewer's attention is back on it, I headed to the toilet to relief myself. Okay, I know it sounds a little weird, especially for a lady, but I must really confess I love darkness. Maybe because I know the house so well, I can find my way around with my eyes closed. I like it when the lights are out, the quietness and ironically, the noise or rather say sounds of nocturnal insects and birds. Feels wonderful.
Anyways, I opened the toilet door and felt the cool breeze rush at me from the open window. Enjoying the sensation for some seconds, I pulled down my pajamas and was about doing the same to my panties when I saw... "Jesus!" i kept screaming as I ran out. The picture kept flashing through my head. "oh God! Oh God!" I was shaking all over. Oh that slithering head, the somewhat yellow eyes that gives the goosebumps feeling of evil. And then those horrible fangs and and... "Oh God!"  I screamed again. It looked like it was gonna attack. What if it did? And how the fuck did it get in there? Oh this is one time I wish dad was at home.
I heard mum hurrying down the stairs and calling my name. "Joanne! Joanne!" too shocked to answer, I kept quiet. She rushed into the living room and switched on the lights. There I was on the couch with my arms around my knees staring in shock with the TV as the only source of light. She came close and asked what's wrong. "come on honey, talk to me. What's wrong?"
And then I saw it again!  This time like a flash and then it was gone." I saw them mum.  I Fucking saw them."
"no swear words honey, I thought I told you... "
"Yeah, I know but I Fucking saw them." now I was sobbing and trying to speak at same time. "I saw them yellow eyes in the dish mum.  The Fucking yellow eyes with... With.. Vertical lines between them.  And then,  the fangs! The fangs with dilating tongue that...  That... " I was practically out of breadth.
"it's alright honey. You probably had a nightmare and saw a snake like..."
"it's not a nightmare! I saw it.  I'm not crazy mum believe me. Okay, you see,  I was going to pee in the toilet. You know the toilet right? And then from nowhere I saw it stick out its head from the W.C staring hard at me.  I swear mum! I wasn't sleeping. It was right there. I saw it!"
"it's okay honey I believe you. You can go back to sleep now. I'll just check it out to..."
"No!, Please don't. Its gonna strike. I saw it. It was real."
Meanwhile, mum already walked straight to the toilet while I was talking, switched on the light..  "Ahhh!" I screamed.
"shut up Joanne! It's late and  there's nothing here. Now go to your room." she gave me that look that says "I'm disappointed in you." Then she started heading back to her room. Scared to drop my legs, I tried convincing her.
"I swear mum. It was there. It was just..."
Then I remembered! I left the toilet door open when I ran out. What if it crawled to the sitting room and it's hiding somewhere quiet? Or what if it already crawled to other rooms? Oh my God! I suddenly remembered again.
I never close my bedroom door!
Oh God, I hate darkness!
.
.
© David Udorah

Be There

BE THERE...
 

Tell this girl I will be there
Where no one is, when the dark days come
Tell this girl I will be there
When the heavens rent
And the horizon goes grey
Tell this girl I will be there
In her lonely hours, praying alone to the lord so high
Tell her I will be there
When the world feels empty, melancholy claim soul

Tell her I will be there...

When the strong dawn rise
Be there
As the fresh breath returns
Be there
As the cramped bones thaw
Be there
Laughter suffuse the face
Be there
When the world comes back
Be there
As the dead plants grow
Be there
The heart grows warm
Be there
Love finds a place
Be there
The soul finds love
Be there
The love returns
Be there
The day chimes on
Be there
Your heart finds me
Be there
My heart finds you
Be there
Love embrace
Be there
The world comes close
Be there
There is brightness in the sky
Be there
I can only see light
Be there
Light! Light! Light!
Be there

The world explodes.

© AbdulHamid G. Yuusuf

When I'm Grown Up

WHEN I'M GROWN-UP

Awoke today with smiles and dreams
To live the life that's filled with beams
Reignite energy and grow in esteem
When I grow up, I'll design my theme

Fascinated by places I read of under trees
With freedom to go exploring in glee
No lights out nor sanctions I need to plea
When I'm grown-up, I'll go to bed at three

No books to read, nor words to scrawl
No rules to obey neither rolls to call
I won't be commanded to face the wall
Oh! Growing graciously, will free the thrall

I'll spend on chocolates all that I earn
Play in parks all day will be my concern
Adulthood will be fun and all I yearn
It's mama's choice not to enjoy and learn

I looked in the mirror and saw some grey
I read and scrawl and still obey
Is this what growing up pushes my way
In adulthood, life is not a bouquet

© From: Precious Sprouts Schools,Ikotun, Lagos
Contact: precioussproutslagos.com

Ife Mi

Ife mi

When my heart be as soft as the calm sea
Your lovely boat rocks my shore
Your star shines,shines so bright
You are a beauty to desire

You are the strongest fragile glass I hold
Never letting you fall or go
Your love around me just like a rope
My life at peace like a dove

Your beauty is rare to see
Your smile makes the earth to shift
Your hearts speaks life to me to live
My one and only ife mi

So many flowers buds me to pick
But my love blinded eyes has but one to pick
Not even our love shall shell deceit
For our souls were bound to live in peace

#lovelovelove
#i speak love
©Tujahsuccess

Love Cycle

LOVE CYCLE

Time is the unit of measure,
And the clock begins to tick again.
With enough time to fix my errors,
I've done things upright.
With the dawn of days,
The rudiment of love have understood.
Loneliness calls.

In love's journeys, have lost my senses.
Tossing around, sooner the fire ends.
All i need is someone to take the chance,
On a love's journey that will last,
without insanity display.
And when the night falls, then my lonely heart calls.

©TOMISIN THOMAS
TEE-THOMAS

Omoge Campus

Omoge campus
.
Her hair, a typical example of
Branches of trees
Beauty, noticeable like an abino in a market
Appearance like that of a fallen angel.
Her face, limned with unlike colors
Like the flag of a foreign land
Her neck, an abode for golds and slivers
leaning graciously on her cleavage.
Could she be the reincarnation of Jezebel?
.
Her chest, a valley that only
Doom resides.
Her smile, irresistible charm like
The beauty of a mermaid.
Aminated with dimples for the
Captivity of men
Could she be Jezebel in another skin?
.
Her skin, fashionably soft
But Naive to the impending seige
Of wrinkles.
Her legs, genetics of an ostrich
Elongated only to sweet sorrow
Omoge campus, the Jebel of our era
.
©2016
Balogun David Tolulope (drunk poet)

Mimesis

When Plato says art is at best useless and potentially dangerous, he may not be appealing to most critics opinion, but I find the idea so fascinatingly true when I attempt to understand the brainless idiocy and imbecility of Nigeria hip hop... While I'm not a follower of Plato, I'm neither a dogmatic admirer of Aristotle mimesis... How can the African mind comprehend the craze going on in the musical industry...?

Hide and Seek

HIDE & SEEK

#soulPoet

Like a sunrise,
You rise on my pillow.

Like a sunset,
You set down into the valley.

My bosom, you called it solace.
You grace it when you thirst.

If you love me, you stay with me.
Hide and seek is a game of ghost.

© niyeric9518
Soul Poet

A Patriot

A patriot

I would close my eyes
and then sift all the silence of the night deep into my subconscious, after which I time travel the length and width of my unreachable expanse within the confines of my cell wall.

How I got here, and how I did it, still remains a mystery to me. I don't know if I still recognise the me in this present situation. IfJames, my friend, could only be here to explain to the jury that it was all a mistake and nothing more than an accidental coincidence muddled up with the whole incidence. That I never meant to stab him, that all I wanted to do was to chastise him for supporting Germany against Nigeria. I wish he were here to vindicate and tell them it was all part of supporting my dear nation and nothing more.

I am a patriot who would not sit still and watch anyone speak ill of my beloved country. I have been found guilty for murder and death by hanging until breath is forcefully drained from my body is my punishment. Only...if James were here he would have vindicated me.
The End.

© Melson

A Balance between E-World and Real-World

A Balance between E-World and Real World


My phone got spoilt for about four days and I realised how slow and boring life can really be. The sluggish progression of time unwind me from the clutches of technologies and my insatiable quest to crawl back into the cyber-world left a vacuum of depression on the inside. I shuffled my attention between the limited choices I had: praying, reading and sleeping. I became more sensitive to things around me and crave for more interactive relationships.


Most importantly, I had all day to myself to think, prioritise my desires, demystify my illusions, evaluate my steps and weigh the probability of my unsaid intentions. Two things became overly clear: my years of exhaustive blogging (video games and movies not excluded) had me addicted to this time wasting machine which destructive capacities on life and destiny is way beyond exaggeration but often subtly underestimated, the separation from those things on the other hand isn't as bad as I feared it was, rather, I presuppose conditioned an atmosphere which encourages productivity. An exile from internet is not a death sentence actually, it is a freedom from the constraints of western civilizations, a deliverance needed to save relationships and sharpen individual perspectives. A breathing space to find your bearing in the dwindling state of reality


A true test of civilized maturity will not be how far we are integrated or separated from the entrapments of this century but how frugal we are with time management by striking a balance between the E-world and the real world. I may not be sure of too many things, but certainly, being engrossed into these things is not the panacea for introspective nostalgia. It does not just complicate things, it leaves too many questions unanswered and too many task undone.
© Olatuja Oloyede

Ripped Heart

Ripped heart

The tables have turned
The land is gone
Loud sound of guns
Deep echoed chants of war

All I See is blood
And animals in human cloth
Laughing because we are poor
And nothing just can be done

With our sad painful eyes we watch
These men take our glory and guts
Dragging our beauti faces down to earth
Breaking us from our togetherness as one

Life,oh life
Why have you taken our clothes
And given them to big  dogs
Who are hungry for nothing's worth

Where did we go wrong
Cause it was just a morn
All this problems raged us
Leaving us to settle our bitter scores

How shall we live
With our breaking teeth's shattered
And our souls injured from scars
I'd have wished it never happened
But life its self can be  unpredictable

#Advopoet
Tujahsuccess©

Massacre without love by Success

Massacre without love

I hear our groaning pains
From the fresh peels wound of blood
What can we call this o lord
Than pure massacre without love

We cry aloud with our faint voices
Pleading desperately to be set free
From this agony and twists of pain
Our masters have us to deal with again

My heart heavies me
For such cries shake my tender heart
making holes of anguish
With no hope of remedy

When did we get here
Where did our love go
Autumn leaves are withering
Sadly......so are we

#saynotoviolence
#ispeakpeace
#warisevil
#Advopoet
Tujahsuccess©

My Future Love (3) by Success

My future love (3)
The  only boat in my calm sea
Not even a storm or wind can move our love
For only you I cherish
Even when I have but a penny

She is the apple of my eyes
She is my divine prize
A better lover I couldn't ask for
When God searched my heart for once

I counted a million stars when I met you
I felt I could lift the world
Was this power or love?
Which made me insanely strong

You are prepared for me
Like a sheep for shepherding
With your amazing beauty
I'll treasure you like a little suckling

#loveismagical
#Godislove
#lookingforthefuture
#ilovepoetry
  Tujahsuccss©

My Future Love (2) by Success

My future love(2)
  When at the break of dawn we kneel to pray
I can't help but gaze at your divine shape
This alone cant make me wait
Till that very one day

When am down with issues
Your love gives me dreams to pursue
Knowing that my life living is for you
Purposefully searching till I'll find you

Your worth is Invaluable to me
Your presence more treasurable than gold
Your smile outshines the brightest diamonds
Your radiant face glows like the morning sun to give me joy

I will continue to wander my world
To find she to whom I belong
The only one with who I am one
The key to my locked    heart of treasure

#loveissgood
#speakit
#Relationshipgiveslife
#Tujahsuccess©

My future love(1) by Success

My future love(1)

Deep down my heart
I feel my strings being pulled
Drawing close to her dynasty
Her love weakening my heels

Having joys pregnant with happiness
For you're the first in my spacious heart
My life is like a shattered glass without you
You speak peace to my heart

Oh!how I would not think of you a day
When all I do is work and play
Sit down for you to pray
That our love is caged and here to stay

I find you incredibly virtuous
Your charm is an amazing delight
Your beauty and character glow like the stars of the night
Oh! How lucky a man am I

#Futureissbright
#speakinglove

©tujahsuccess

Rift and its Closing

RIFT AND ITS CLOSING

Be it singing the square,
Dancing the circle,
Or sitting in pews.
Life is of suprises,
Along side with jerk path.

Thou with the evil folks,
And vexing spirit.
The planet is for doom,
Along side with despair.

The differences reproduce,
Which demolishes life's integrity,
Ranks for hate,
And depth of cleft in the abyss.

Be yourself,
Smart as a vulpine,
Why ensnare yourself,
To a raw choky container.

Thou with the love folks,
And alleviating spirit.
The cosmos is for luminosity,
Along side with affection and cordiality.

The differences reproduce,
Opportunity to build life's integrity,
Ranks for love,
And best chances ahead.

Be yourself,
Smart as a vulpine,
Give yourself freedom,
Out of the container, you are!

Now two sects of life's view,
Together the world can be better,
If we fling away condemnation,
With unity in us.

Do away with that onerous,
Of grievance that staggers you.
Start with a new life,
And get used to truthfulness.

© TOMISIN THOMAS
TEE-THOMAS

GRACIOUS PAST

GRACIOUS PAST

The world's corrupt, we all declare
The time has changed , it's not the same
The things we knew and held as good
Become the praxis of the hoary

Being respectful was a thing of pride
And bashfulness our mothers enshrined
We spoke the truth to save our names
We held in esteem integrity and  courtesy

To care for a traveler who lost his way
To feed the poor who clung tight in hope
To help the old who's subdued and burdened
Our ways were just to serve and help

We turned away when scenes corrupt
And walked the lane with bossom concealed
We dared not look an elder in the eye
Our values was ensured by the whole wide clan

The grass stays green, the sun shines still
The goodness we seek beneath our feet
The world we live will give to us
The same of what we strove to give

From: Precious Sprouts Schools, Ikotun, Lagos
Contact: precioussproutslagos.com

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This project had bounced around for a while, incomplete and needed lots of help. My vision was captured and communicated precisely. Thank you for another great job

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United States

This is not the first time I am working with him, and as always, on time delivery of what is expected. He is a very important asset to our team. Thank you.

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Kuwwait

Amazing. Very good results always. He has been working with us for more than 2 years now and his quality and class remains uncompromised. Thank you for consistently growing with us

Steve Urrego

Columbia

Olatuja Oloyede
+2348136816240
Akure Ondo State, Nigeria

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