WIBENATURE

EWE ATI EGBO IWOSAN APA KINNI EWE KUKUNDUKU, EWE ANAMO, (Ipomoea batata) 1. JEDIJEDI A o se lagbo pelu omi lasan. A ma mu ni aagasi kokan lemeta loju mo. 2. INAJIJO ARA TABI OMI GBIGBONA JIJO. A o lo isu idi ewe anamo a o ma file oju ibi ti nkan to jo eni na. 3. ITOJU OJU TOPON ATI TOWA OMI . A o ge isu anamo keekeke si inu omi leyi wakati kan a o mi fisi oju naa  igba gbogbo. 4. KI ARA LE MA DAN DADA. A o gun ewe tabi isu anamo mose a o ma fiwe. 5. TITOJU ATI IDENA JEJERE A o re isu anamo tabi sise isu ati ewe re logbo a o ma mu a o si ma fiwe oju re ti o bati je jade. Mimu lemeta loju mo. 6. ILERA ALABOYUN ATI OYAN FUN OMO OWO. Jije anamo ni tutu fun alaboyun le kookan titi yo do bimo ati eyin omo Bibi fun eroja fitami A. 7. ARUN ITO SUGA ATI ATOGBE. Jije iyofun isu anamo tabi sise je fun eni na tabi jije ni tutu. A letter ma lo gbogbo e papo. Tori opo fibre to le ni 77% ti ki pare mo omi. 8. KI ARA MAJIPEPE Bi o se wa ni oke no 7. 9. ARA WIWU TABI ARA DI...

A long the ways up, the roads are unevenly made, untided ways to being affectioned. The series of package of the styles to way uneventful roads. Fashion colleges, the weavers make in lengthening, the Dyer's tie in yards and soak to dye into colourful clothes yards. The sewers cut in pieces to shape, join on joining give the styles. An accepted slogan must be wardrobed and cloth dyed, the impotent must watch his master yam plantation in the water table. Where are the roads market? They are never known, the gruesomes started. A single matter turns to multitask. The mouth that mounted are in mute. The mouth slides up and down in greasing of water to right and wrong a spirit. Mouth of the birds, the mouth of the fishes, the mouth of the reptiles, the mouth of being, the mouth that invite the masses, welcome and bye their farewell. I look far beyond my horizons in cardinating I see a single tree in the deserts who grew well, flowered and fruited greatly. The mouth that feule...

The water passed the mouth of the fishes were never meant for the family of gillette lifes. The defeacete times opened the thigh of the anus to pass.  The splitter of the heaven saliva on the sandy soil to mark on the allocated parts of yours. The ages spoke fastest than the days in counting, the grey hairs and wrickled cheesed chins. The rags taced to the bin would kissed on naked fire, that warned the masquerade out of the forge. The clocks ticked the times to the events, the jingling noted by the people to aware a destiny. The builders were just on the orders of the might God, if they weren't, all are waste, in the waste of time on struggles. The goods are the tormenting of the past and the pains of the love, as crude ore fire to duct to gold. The possession could never kill the wisers but it may never be archieved in time, call a sage a slogan to be end a day. The beauty of a life is the fairness of the life spans, never how longs but how fairs. It is never a colour...

White page of white paper As plain as the my mind  I hold a piece to be peaceful Piece of note I hold I most be in peace. White paper I hold I wrote my name on With a fainting pen and blue ink. My family's name on the peace On the white rock of age. A plan always aheads any work Page of paper pays and says, The future of the exited place On the white paper of ado. Tell the story of sages In the lake of the wages The moment danced to the music On the same stage of adieu. Paint the white paper In a polychrome images. The true of the matters will never Beyond the imagined mind. Wait to see the blinking Of the carbs on a white cards  You will stand as a boat pole Besides the patient river. Watch well observe well The white paper patterns of fibres. The magic of the figures Were done in binding bonds. Impression makes a page. The wisdoms are plained whitelight with Images of the colours. The moulding of the colours result to the lightless of the pages. A cleared sky wit...

One day in the month of Ramadan I had no Kobo to kiss the iftau. One day in the month of revealation I had no naira to marry the suhur. That days I become a begger. That days I touch the sore of borrowing in a dome of lenders. Looking for credits in denial is a blessing of the heaven to the Earth.  The days I see the daufters in the strangled survival mode.  The days I begged without bragged for a packed of charcoal to cook a meal. The days I picked without pained from discarded charcoal from the catered Heath's in the suburbs times. The days I did never think of what to eat but what I see. The days I had never known what to do but what come to do. The days it revealed the pangs and pains of the destitute. I took those days as an honoured hours of a great blessing of the nature. I saw the traces of days in the eyes ball of my offsprings. I was always saying "hamudullah"

The time to asleep I could never make awake. The time to awake I could never make aware. The time to sojourn I could never make adjourn. The time to seek life I could never take one. The time to relax I could feel the return. To the young ages The ladder ways up to the top. I left all credentials To redress in the early games. The time to read I could feel the restart of life. The time of disappointing I could meet the repackage. The time makes a jackpot I could see all numbers a luck. The time I am alive I could restart again again. The time is never too late I could be kind and generous The time may be little I could do a lot again and again. What had started a journey Had never been oblated. The time of aged era Alike as the recent in emblishing. The sun is never changed in rising and in setting, The thousands of years the moon is the same.

Let the head thinks In the mist of madness, I am never crazy but only In the pond of madness. Let the hands ink In the large of lagging, I am never scribed but only In the pool of the calligraphy. Let the helps come In the time of entrangles, I am not sick but only In the pit of struggles. Let the safety be In the dreams of jinx war, I am not saved but only In the patrons of their spear. Let the hold their spears In the league of the water world I am asleep to wage the war In the voice of bombs on hearing. Let them burst away In the mist of envies and hatreds I am not planned a war but only In the middle of the relationship. Let them see the little pin their minds in the bloody war. I am the winner by my hands and mouth's voices. I am winned.

I see myself in a mirror I watch myself in my words I see what I did with my eyes Here I am in my world I do never see anything  Except I with my arts. My self centered makes My circumhabiting. My self point traces My circumbulating. I see I am a major creature Who loves selfless services. Giving without expecting Looking mindless of watchers. A volunteer for his lengthening Lifetime. I see the sky always as a peace I imagine every leave to be olive leaf. I see my heart to be thrilled of the theaters. My blood stream has been flown in peace.

It is a warfare It is safety tools Very sharp to flesh It cuts with both sides. It is the head That sharp indefinite, It is the hands That strength the sword. It is the heed That made the missions. It is really hands That length out head. The drama of the dreams Lie on the Images. The dancing of the dooms Lie on the severity of the wars. The battlefield of the words Differed to the sword rages The mental fares are amongs The metal costs of a warrior. Kudos to the creator of world Thanks to the sages of words Glory to the swords as warfare Great great to the hand's holders. The struggles bring a ware The tips of the swords pointed Swords blades boom in blood The conquor is the swords.

The farmers plant and harvest for the aliens of the Heaven and Earth. The Carvers design and embellish the media for the users in the world. The vendors supply and sell in the market to any consumers at point of the trades. The clothes weavers interlace and dye for the masquerading in the stages of world. The authors think and scribe for the readers in the space of the sagas. The artists draw and paint his minds and moods to express his feelings for the interest buyers. The chanters sing and sweat for a person in his mist to feel the belongings. The drummers beat the percussion to the nearest and farest listeners. The smithers melt and mould the metals to meet the moment of the needies. The light of the heaven lits the inner room of every minds as a lighted room of a house. The earth is here as we knew before us, it will be here  after us. The tasks are in the everlasted Temples of the world. You walk All the life in a task to be forever, Bespoken works in human activit...