shades & colours… staccatos & fr a gm e n t s. . . punctuations & stops – difference(s) between existential life & nostalgic death – like thirst & orgasm. visions of catacombs & wishes…"portrait of a wo(man) mind –"
Bliss is the first time I left my father seated on the couch with a cup of consternation. I told him that life sometimes comes hedging us in the corner of our closet, and the best step to take is not to stand against it in a feud and fight for freedom. I told him it is dumb to fight when freedom is the same wiles that had ever slept with you. My father…"Bliss by ADEYEMO E.O"
It pierced through my eyes and brain. And there was a gimmick coloured in red lightening. And the welder of souls cannot hitch fragments of fire into a solid wreath like promises – the strong silence that first melted with thick spittle when we were boated by labials swimming through blood and water to the way it used to be – the same silence came with hands to flay off my innocence in a transaction…"Lacerations by ADEYEMO E.O"
Drown in those eyes swim their liquid depths, sing praises of her supple waist Lose yourself in honey at her lips… Today we stem the tide of words, w-a-i-t-i-n-g for the flutter of wings on eaves of the future, when we shall say to the storm – uncoil Not even time can tame the tales we have yet to tell There is a tale lurking in my eyes; its beginning is you, and its end…"A Poet in Love (For a girl I know by Olumofin Olasubomi"
love told me that the moon shines till dawn – that the bulb budding bright in spring onions will keep succulence till winter. love told me that all things were tulips and all days lacked a night. love kept me fused on the rays of nostalgia till my liver cringes for the heat of promises – the day i found love painted in the blues of my dreams, the same day my heart hit the…"what love did to me; a mesh of blue and lilac – ADEYEMO E.O"
Words will scamper in fragments like fingers intruding & seeking to hide under innocent underclothes… There would not be silence, because the heart would whine! Pleasure would mean a dance of duress. And when you ask what trope tamed a screaming script, you’d see that some protruding pen find their muse under sorrow, tears & blood – a pin punctures into the throat through skewered hymen & weeps in creamy waters that never satisfy. Not…"When Poets Chase the Wind by ADEYEMO E.O"
Some songs are tempoed in mysteries— they sound like last breath of two hearts clamped together between nags & nostalgia. The curvy rhythms and the sounds of the night: this is the unit where the harp sings the loudest. And the wisdom that defies antonyms place peace against pleasure— Two hiking birds perch on a stream of unconsciousness. Tell me about the words that can’t be uttered— The muffled words of longing with every zephyr…"Portrait of the Female Body as a Mystery of Music: A Duet by ADEYEMO E.O & AGUNBIADE KEHINDE"
Waves my heart bleeds as my skin sweats, as my eyes wet, as my hands shake, as my legs wobble, as my spirit dizzies, interfacing the lost faces like an innocent kid propelling a pictorial horse for a run gums on my teeth, i don’t know how to calm the storm settled in my mouth – grief makes me repine between dis-eased silences and overweighed speeches as i swish…"Waves by Taofeek Ogunperi"
You know that time when waking at dawn is like waking in a jungle. Sometimes into a new week – like a babe marooned in no man land, with the load of thoughts shawled behind & before him, & death numbering his steps per time – steady scorn of “what will you eat?” “Where will you go?” “Who in this world would beam a ray of smile today?” This is…"LIVING TO BE A DAILY HEADLINE"
escape is what my aunt taught me under dark roofs & in closed doors, with you alone & your hands & a tool (maybe a long-necked bottle, or one big candle or two) & your mind – all questing for breath & pains & pleasures too… escape is a way to show how much you hate men too – it was my uncle with me, it was my aunt’s father with her too, it…"escape"