Just a little Joy
Hope your day was well spent
Even when some roads were bent
And when all goals were not met
So many lacks, not much to get
Hope in your heart you sure can bet
That at least some joy was felt
Hope you cleared off even a little debt
Hope your day was well spent.
Friend, my day was well-spent
Though some roads were bent
Though not all goals were met
Though too many to clear, the debt
One thing, one hope, I sure can bet
That there was at least some joy I felt
And all my best thanks to God, sent
Today, dear friend, was well spent.
A song to the ones who are lost
A song to the victims of war
A song to the souls that have lost
sense of self to canons of war.
I remain a married virgin
I am the widowed bride
That awaits the coming of her groom
Will my dusk never cease?
Will my night bring no bliss?
You are but the dusk
The Taurus dusk,
That confined me to celibate vows
Are you gone or lost?
Have you licked the dust? Will my dawn never come?
On the once green hills now turned plains
Where their chaotic fireballs kissed the dust
Their barks stiffened sucklings to death
The mournful pleas turned on deaf ears
You sought succour for your newlywed
But their piercing dart hits the bullseye
The conjugal drums played amorous dirge
Their destructive tambourines did fireworks
See, dancing massacred bodies with their ubiquitous presence
But Olalekan did not dance with them
Ọlálékan, you disappeared.
Where are you, my love?
The Virgin cried on her wedding night
The Virgin cried for the dawn
Is my dawn forever lost?
You were my dawn.
You are my dusk.
Would the gong rather not proclaim your demise?
Than the wait for a lost one
Come, my love!
Come be my dawn!
I wait in my Chantilly gown
Till at long I no longer can.
Hope to the ones who have lost
Hope to the victims of war
Hope to the loved ones of the lost
Who live in anticipation of their return.
To a Weary Soul
As long as the earth is round
Know this, my weary friend.
Even if the cumbrous globe
Rests on your shoulders
And on yours alone
And the ever-raging waters
Turbulently engulfs you
You gasp for life, for breath
And all around you exhume nothing
But despair and melancholy
No lever to lift the load
No neck to stand the head
Keep that head on your shoulders
And strut tall, my weary friend
For alone, life’s ferry conveyed you in
Alone, you truly will be
Like the legs in a dirndl
You think you were disavowed
No, you’ve always been alone
From the commencement of the Copernican system
To the moment I speak, weary friend
Don’t be weary my friend,
Save your last breath to acclaim
That eclat which my echoic song foresee
Life’s bed, dear friend
Is always not of roses
And even if it is
Could have a pillow of thorns
Or a bed of prickles.
Life’s oven, dear child
May not always bake bread
And even when it does
Could burn the bread so bad
That you can’t take a bite.
Life’s success, dear friend
May not always be guaranteed
And even when it’s not
It’s just one of the rainy days
The sun will soon shine.