What a world we live in
A place where you cannot afford to feel
This is not some place
we can talk about the things inside that are real


It is not a place where you are allowed to admit that you feel like quitting
Most of the natural feelings have been labelled as illness
Only happy feelings are healthy, the rest of them need to be treated; medicine
What will become of the poet?

women have plastic surgery so that they look the same
what will become of beauty?

What has become of the individual?
Whatever happened to thinking for ones own self
What happened to what you wanted?
Well, it doesn't matter because it has been drowned in the noise of what they deem as political correctness

How is it that you expect to feel anything but alone
when you live by the script they wrote?
Careful not to veer off
who are they?
Do you think they care that you feel alone?

Them that say
A woman unmarried at the ago of 30 is a disgrace
That a person without a degree is not enough
That at the age of 24, you should already know what you want out of life

In this world, there is no time for love
You have no degree, no job, no car?
How do you even find the confidence to talk to women?

Nothing flourishes upon a kiss
They want homes and money and cars and expensive things
They want big diamond rings and everything that glitters and shines
You on the other hand want a trophy wife to show off to the public so they feel sorry about their lives

There is no room for poets
No place for the sound of music
No eyes that respond to writen word
There is no room for emotion
For a sunshine or a sunset
There is no time to remember
Only time to forget
There are no fairy tales from your youth you are allowed to miss
Because they made you forget the past

Here, uniqueness is not beautiful
You are not allowed to be queer
You dare not veer off that path
The one they laid out even before you come to be

There is no place for Truth
No place for YOU
No place for ME


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love is nothing but neurochemical machinery. If you meet a woman who's been married for years, still head over heels in love with her husband, be assured that her memory works like that of a titmouse. Because for love to be immortal, memory needs to be mortal.

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Baba Oliech, father of my children
Father of my five children
Baba Oliech why are you letting that 'ochot' Nya'Agoro get in between us?
In between this love of ours
Baba Oliech are you not the one who plunged us in the path of sorting for a son?...

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If someone awakens in us a desire we'd rather not have, we try not to like that person. However, if that fails, we then seek something likeable in them, something good enough to make the desire for them more endurable.

In chapter one of Peggy Eliot's "A Small Part of History", she says that it's always best to start from the beginning. It's a book so it's obvious what she means by the statement.
But allow me to twist it, use in my context. In one that couldn't be further away from books and story telling. A concept that is so close to home, one which more often than not people shy away from for reasons that couldn't be more wrong and baseless.

This concept is sex.

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Today is post day people... Am so excited about this piece... It's almost like my official post up... Stick around, coming up in a few. I don't know when this excitement will end, probably when i send this baby off to college and i realize my whole life was built around raising a kid.. SMH😒😂😂😂...

i wanted to beat the deadline with my "speech" like everyone else
but the new year fever did not catch on
sunday night i walked out of my building
sat myself on the pavement
watched the moon and the stars...

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BottleMail updated their profile picture.
January 8
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BottleMail updated their cover photo.
January 8
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