My eyes does not itch, But my brain does itch. Eagle's eyes,curious teeth but timid brain, Intuity did a lot of spelling rain. -
But i can't understand. Comprehension had had me strand. Willing eyes,indifferent cerebral, Hopeful skull but brain's sick crawl.
Persaude my brain to agree with my eyes, Wants to be free from this hell; Dyslexia. 17:18:08:16:32

What's your take on this?

A friend of mine told me sometimes ago that real guys don't love girls with their heart but rather with their brain.
So, i need enlightment and opinions. If you agree or disgree.
Cos i saw that the guy was speaking with regards to jilting(the girl jilting him).
Me,i'm on the fence...
You'll be the one to decide the side i should fall into...

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I sat reluctantly by examination's order,
And was subsequently fed by intuity's feeder.
Then she came singing aloud,
Sending in array cluster's voice crowd.

With her tune piercing my hear,
My brain did itch and my eyes feared.
'Cos the brain is directed,
To her voice till the eyes is perfected.

With Joyful heart i looked wearily,
While she danced yet and sang heartily.
'Phew...phew',she disturbed my peace,
Till my eyes did theirselve fixed.

She wouldn't go without a scare;
It's the weaver- naked and bare.
17:17:08:17:18

Thanks poet.

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Call her not an idol,
Nor to me an idolaterer.
'cos thy law forever i bore,
And them all by thy trinity ladder.
With her always in my thought?
Did have you that thy law i despised?
Or of her face i did sought?
Did play me to you despised?
If to true be them all,
Then thy messages should by now tarry by an hanger.
Call her not an idol.
Nor to me an idolaterer.
She is to me an all,
As you to me a God.
C.2017

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When deprived am i,
Like the ripe foam of the sky.
To exhibit my veil'd glowing might,
Then i think it's time for my pen to fight.


When freedom of speech,
Is hung far from my reach.
And the broad way is tight,
Then i think i'll of my right write.


When they on the seat,
Did my rights eat.
Placing me on the pinnacle of fright,
I think it time for my pen to fight.


If all those saint,
That did holiness paint.
Metamorphose their real self,
Then my right will write himself.


But,why is it so?
That wolves did lamb cloth?
Does that mean that an hermit,
Can to luxury submit?


On whom my back is ought to lean,
Did pierce me,with lovely pin.
By whom,my dust should flee,
Did to me suffering breed.


But woe be you all,
'Cos by my pen,thou will fall.
My hand is prepared to my right write.
And my pen will by heaven fight.


'Sufficit!,Sufficit!,Sufficit!'.
Drenched and tired of these deceits.
Arise now my veins,write the rights.
And cause the pen to fight.
Before the day becomes night.
C.2017

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Every blessed dawn sprout a new thought,
Enclosure in fate and earth's brochure,
Coupled with unfriendly events with zipped lips,
Ushering humans into rhetoric dawn.
The culprit wandered lonely like an hungry lion,
He explored the soil with his nose,
Like a bewilder bull that lost its horn,
Just to make life out of the stubborn ground.
He run behind and beyond to observe the nature's food,
He emptied the content of the pen and the sword,
But it seemed all were making lesser sense.
He dived deep into earth's etymology.
Yet,it shrinked duller like a tube,
And gave no impression of friendly fun.
Then he tried the path of religious fact,
He sung and prayed in bright and eventide,
Fasted squarely to create a spiritual link,
To browse the heaven's prosperity without a megabyte.
Now,life seems to smile back at me.
Though,he frown and groan but all seems bright.
The once stubborn ground pour out fortune in its strengths,
The blue sky sings love and lights hope.
He got no more worries because he's got a great company.
On his soft-y antelope he let open the door of his mouth.
'THE FORTUNE IN NATURE......IS EMBEDED IN THE SUPREME BEING'
C.2017

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The groom sweeps pass the floor,
Like the flood does with her pride.
He matches pass the crowd like a moor,
Examining intensely while on his ride.
He flashes back the day of plan,
When he draft out the necessary file.
He readjusts his specs and span,
Bewitching the damsels with his smile.
He shoots out his lips like a pointed gun,
Directing it towards his anxious maiden.
At the order of the faithful clown,
He enjambs his lips with his charming colleen.
The chairs hops for Joy,likewise the bench.
They exhilirates their happiness and joy,
In tune with the lucky man's trench,
And elates residents like electronic toys.
A golden metal presents itself as a ring,
Straight into the bride's finger,
The two anonymous fingers cares to sling,
Causing a great applausation from the seaters.
He positions his feet as direct,
Holding unto his queen hands to hands.
They displays their style in music precept,
Grooving symtematically like the bands.



Being stressed after the lovely harsh day,
He strips off his rugged shoe and tie.
Resting on his lonely bray,
He heaves a sigh of victory; 'Bye!'.
C.2017