Posted in poetry


Miserable mister!

His love for his palito made him neglect the sister.

Playing Brandy’s tracks showed he sought love

But what was his problem?

Nancy was alone. Why did he deceive the poor thing?

Confused mind

How come he asserts he meant he loved her when

All he did was refuse to pop the question?

He started to scream she stays with him

She started to see why she should not.

It was her thirteenth-giving-him-a-chance, so she changed the stats

A tear escaped his eyes; it was not nouvelle to Nancy as she had

Done the entire possible math.

His lips had shown likeness with Lindsey’s ribaldry

But Nancy armed her ears with a cheap white headphone producing local

Nigerian pop songs.

She had her regrets; he never romanced her protruded buttocks to gnawing point.

He appeared satiable to have seen her balmorals and briefs only.

A push, a push, she left him in the pool he had created.

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

Miserable Mister!

Either socio or psycho, he had not found his path.

But with steady grog and torn bible, hell was the feasible aftermath.

He had passed Damascus, and met no ray of light.

The sheath he had devoured in past weeks could not give him the break-even point.

He had his regrets not keeping Nancy, his heart was not learning to move on.

The smudge in his heart forced him into a resolve

He took his shabby looks into a synagogue to find redemption

He found Jesus; a presumption it had been after dipping into a water basin.

A charge was given him; a new beginning was the nuzzled sermon for all.

N-A-N-C-Y. He deleted her number with hopes he forgets the cell digits.

No need, there was a Bann of marriage in the notices.

Her full name was mentioned, it was her wedding two months away.

Cold hands of the dickens strolled in his tummy

Too much buttering on a morsel of bread

No water mixture in the Black Currant

The apogee had his impulse driven him, he ran like chased by hyenas

Into the air, the hard ground of the two-storey building received his choice.

Brother tapped out!




My name is Okocha Obed, you can call me Obeezy. I love to display aesthetics through my ink—I must say writing is my small world. I consider myself a deep writer; I say I am deep because I have discovered that part about myself, even, my fabulous audience share same view. I believe in connecting to all kind of persons as there is always something to learn from everyone. I see myself as an actor; to stay on the stage, I need to think ink. The voice is a reflection of myself and my conscience. I always felt I could be like superman while growing up. It was pretty ridiculous so all I did was dream of being a soldier. It was abortive. So I created a world where I could keep talking about the ills in my community but with other flavours to show I am growing into completeness. keep reading.

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