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Nairaland Forum / Janji's Profile / Janji's Posts
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![]() i swear, when i saw zain all off a sudden on my phone, i was scared, i thought it was another network virus that had eaten up my network i called my celtel liine with my glo just to make sure that the network was still intact only then did i calm down, that at least the name didnt matter, @ least my line was still active imagine which one os zain again, it just didnt make sense to me, besides than name is so uninteresting, ZAIN. please, So which group pf people have taken over the network again ![]() |
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ha ha |
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This is actually a topic where you would find a lota ladies or women and they would consider it the most important topic, o please |
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@ jydewalker i took my time to read your story, i tell you, you have lost am so sorry it had to come out that way but reading your story made me see a woman who couldnt move on without you for those who are in marriage, someone told me that the lady wouldnt or didnt find any better person to marry thats why she would have choosen you - the man she desired i was hoping for a happy ending in your story but didnt find. it pinches me that your wife isnt alive , a mighty loss. am so sorry. |
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what a pity, wont i simply say that men are enjoying they partied through out secondary school, into universities, out of universities and into marriages coming home at 2pm my God, they would probably party before death and hope to do so in heaven the thing is that, it comes out this way for a lady who marries an irresponsible man A literate can also be an educated illetrate when he is not responsible especially after tieing the knot when morals that ought to be instilled in youthful years before marriage is neglected, that is what a married woman get besides, it has become normal, men find pleasure hanging out with related friends, drinking and talking about their business and marriage, they talk about how hard it is and how annoying the woman may be atimes, pleasure they get in doing this, things eventually turn around when they age and their kids are grown, the power shifts to the woman and she becomes untamable due to what she has taken from the man all through the years. hmmm, i can only sigh |
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@ sisikill hey, thanks well, i did a track once, it was my first try in diversifying from my poetry. to know if i could sing. but its not working late nights, i cant help listening to that track i came up with bells just wont ring i have been confused so much that i dont know what to do, i kinda went into article writing, my latest a four paged exposure called GRADUATE DILEMMA. locked up in my pile, knowing it would never be published lately, av got more distracted that i wrote a new peom stating that i do not know if poetry is a player am i being played like the poem i wrote 'ABOUT A PLAYER OR PLAYERS' in this case poetry is making me fall in love and a still falling to the extent that it feels like my life is sold out to it only to leave me broken, dashing my hopes. i just dont want to be a fool i am confused, i have always been @ saintsam, thanks all the same. |
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I guess i have been fooling myself all along thinking i knew how to write maybe poetry or free lance writing aint my thingy just too bad ![]() |
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well, i really think you should finish it up id like to read more about faces cos i guess i see a lot each day |
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By the third line, i was already captivated ![]() there was i thinking the journey would not end but too bad, short and some what in complete Each having two eyes, a mouth and a nose for respiration Two ears, a neck and skin that glistens with perspiration I'm constantly intrigued by this masterpiece of creation No one is like the other, even if they tell you, you're the carbon copy of your father or mother Even identical twins don't look like each other Even siasme are so different that they wish they wearnt joined together Uniqueness, beautiful faces, oh my goodness The artist - Our lord God your Highness Beautiful is his craft, as each face shines with marvelous brightness about the lips, tempting the are giving desperation am soaked sweating drips, nothing as similar to perfection such cheeks, that even the devil freaks , well, i need a bit of help shey actually no time, no time at all. got to roll Holla |
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Life aint what you think it is For each man speaks by what he hears or see with his iris You think life is bitter Life is bitter, to another man it is sweeter But life is bitter, unspeakably bitter as men wither Life aint what you think it is And am not trying to say words to make you sink Merry we are as we party and drink But one way or the other, for every drink there is life to make us stink Life aint what you think it is Your soul is managing what you are given - which is your body Like a car, would you drive without knowing where to go already So purpose is what makes life steady Life aint what you think it is You think you are more sorrowful and you've cried But for the mistakes we have made in life, at our end we would see it Wish we could rewind time and never ever died Life aint what you think it is Even if you are lazy Breathing is free but aint easy Effort and effort, life decrees till we tired and hazy Life aint what you think it is You would realise this as you one day meet your owner Ashes to ashes, from death all men are runners We all eventually get the baton On getting the baton - then drops dead all your body atoms Life aint what you think it is Man gets it wrong by seeking comfort first Its our mission on earth first, so hold your desires and let it thirst Life aint what you think it is In different men are various thoughts of evil Its true - do watch and pray Life aint what you think it is We live with different curses and woes Only the church and not life is meant for dancing shoes Know that you stand among foes Life aint what you think it is Am about to end this So seek Christ because on us he is soft Better he is than our night rests pillow Also know that the worst debit is to owe Be on guard, let your eyes look all round like the owl Especially - on earth do guard you soul For its an eternal wish of hells ghouls Peace |
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men, while scratching my head i really dont understand the poetry license thingy |
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well, thats so harsh of you how could u say that to me, words just flow and thats why it is long well i dont know where the meat tastes sour to you for coming at me like that, well i guess you are just one critic and its not that i do not have short poems too i dont know sha, its how you feel anyway, i understand |
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Life starts with a hustle Like Ayo’s struggle for his breathe That is how it starts Or lest he’d go beneath the earth by death So to breathe, he was smart Now he and death are wide apart So he grows To face the hustle of tomorrow To find his life’s place So as to catch comforts accelerated pace In other not to be a disgrace But here is Dayo’s row Needing to hustle for money to end his sorrow For to get money, struggle is his brace And he gave it embrace But Fayo was young and free Hustling like the buzzing flight of a bee Because from poverties torment – he wants to flee “Torments of poverty” - which can turn permanent But for Thomas The first step to be a monument is being on the streets He says – “you can only be on the streets to steady your feet” While Shina takes on high and low class women Who pay to get this good performer’s semen? He keeps sucking on their teats He can’t stop – for the money is quick and sweet Also James was a young man in another city His hustle seems all wrong For that – it’s such a pity Because robbery was his song Defiant he was, yet mean and strong I guess he’d keep robbing to infinity So i say – there are different hustle to which everyone belongs Peter was on that which was called crime There is a lot – but car stealing brought him to his prime But I leave you to wonder if he eventually became supreme For Jude was another during James time Defrauding was his theme Do you think it’s the right way – if he did get money rolling? While David survived by his business sling Making and waving money like a king But allow me fly you with my wing To a hustle with a different swing It’s Solomon – the slave blinded with a degree His eyes almost in tears whenever his Boss makes a decree All I can say Is truly and truthful that he was never free Because he slaves with his school degree to pay his fee Let’s pray for him that he becomes independent Can I forget Paul – who does the hustle of a dent? Only to wash the windows of passing cars – does he find himself to represent Whenever I drove by 9th street he was always present But do you think he is better than Jide – doing the hustle of a beggar Alms can only be given to him by his feeders But my reader Check Lawrence the juggernaut sender He becomes this by going abroad He’d still travel if getting to overseas is only by road But our Nigeria’s prince charming has been shrunk to a toad by his endless unrealistic fantasy to get foreign currencies in loads His suit and tie here can only offer in overseas – menial jobs Let’s give him slight sobs There is a runner up if his hustle doesn’t pay off It’s Niran – who swallow stuffs I don’t know- but I heard you say it’s called cloud dust or cocaine If he succeeds – he moves to the rich line To eat and drink best of wines But if he fails – he becomes a swine He ends up in prison His same family to accept him if he had succeeded calls him a rejected son Why – because his failure is the reason After 50yrs – he comes out of jail an ex-con But that of Titus was that of claiming to be holy An in-genuine pastor calling Jesus his one and only He finds people to fool by preach He looks and smiles at offerings coming to his reach As he fakery teaches He sucks the poor out like leeches But there is this grand hustle not my doing Writing my poems and also rapping without booing’s It’s the genuine hustle by a talent Only if it is given no relent Flowing easy for I am truly God sent By this hustle which is truly descent But I conclude by saying that truly in everywhere And surely absolutely is there nowhere That there isn’t a form of hustle Whether good or bad – it ceases when you can no longer feel your torso It ends at death When by request for eternity – we become banished from the earth |
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well thats not a bad attempt in poetry am impressed the thing is that i wonder where the poets are on naira land I mean there gotta be something we could do about our works i dont know if we could have a live forum or something Anyway, are you going to write more, while we both share some lovely expression thatw e both have written Holla |
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the concept is that a player is glorified in his own eyes but the end of it is that, he is diggin his own grave even if he escapes on earth, what about heaven Its actually for players who have stopped playing and those who are still in it its like choice i hope we could build a bridge and share our poems on a page its your call originality and concept, thanks i know we both have a lot to offer looking forward to a reply |
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well its cool to understand that the subject matter is about love the first atchy verse My smile, he calls it his only sunrise, Never will it set, in his eyes. says something like he would get the beautiful things that come with the love, like your smile At the same time you talk about what interests you like his touch, memories and words this is where the peom gets one thinking what is the end result - are you going to look for such love ? Curny i say, not easy to dissect but leaves one to ponder, yeah, id want it longer. maybe because i write lenghty limericks, peoms , |
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The first line was catchy, will he never see your smile which he calls the sunrise !!! i like this, this poem is curny its like eating dessert that i never want to end Short it is anyway !!! Teasing, Bravo Would you like to check mine and have a comment I wrote About a player or players Let me know what you think |
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i wasnt even thinking that women where herds was just trying to relate to you how numerous they were !!! |
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women aint cattle or sheeps, very true thanks for given me a clue id need more critics to review that part, but how do you see the poem !! Thanks anyway |
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It all started with me saying ‘I like you’ – true, I did Then when did this turn to love – false, I didn’t She said these words, and how would life had been if I didn’t say it – so I said it indeed Now check my deeds Am filthy all over For different ladies, I am thirsty – it’s now or never The truth is that I came to her innocent I said ‘I like you’, the truth But for the words ‘I love you’ – No, I’d be nocent ‘I love you’, if said from a woman – is sweet and clever To trap I – Myself, the trap To me she straps But to my belt strap – hung a lot of women Then she joined – people for me, wont you clap She says she sensed the omen That she would lose me and find another man Good for her, she knew all along That she knew all along, sober is no longer my song Happy me, player keep on playing strong Now here are the days of Karma I didn’t care – I was addicted to women, even those I called Ma So I came to my senses It’s been 4 weeks of saying those three words that got things intense Tired was I talking of love ‘I love you’ – I would say this in a minute While I cheat in the next second Tell me – why won’t this love thing get me tense? I love you – she complains that I am not saying it Love – I do not convey it Yet, she still loves me, and it’s weird It means Kudus to me the player nerd A genius in women – so much I own in herds Will all these said make me look wicked? Yes, the ladies would call me a dick head True – I am a dick head, and down below is a small head At the beginning, I wasn’t crooked I said I only liked her and it cooked Now she sees me as a succulent meal that she couldn’t like but love There goes the vocal at the other end of the phone Janji, I love you Silly me saying ‘I love you too’ Just that, turned out to be the right woo Now tell me, what I would have said Saying ‘I don’t love you’, would make the girl sad ‘I don’t love’ would make every Nigerian Fella, or Fela curse and call me a bastard The players in the game would call me a retard A retard even if I claim that from the game, I am retired Even some ladies would ask, does this guy ever go hard? While some agree that telling her the truth of not loving she, is playing the right card Some would disagree, saying that life is ‘FAD’ Bleep and Discard But why didn’t I listen to God If I told the truth that I didn’t care, then he would not spoil me but spare the rod And I would make him glad The funny thing is what is about being a PLAYER Players keep playing Ladies would keep hating Aids would keep hunting You keep thinking that condom is the thing Evil keeps singing Rapture keeps hanging Peace |
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Prior To the feeling of being inferior Some may smell so good with "Christian Dior" But they lack a strong interior Against interacting is a sword Held to their throat if they dialogue a word They conclude that making friends isn’t necessary But the way they cry inside is extra ordinary Some would always make friendship tarry Looking for friends to carry And adding more friends to their diary But for some The habit of making friends is yet to come They find it hard to express And this leaves them in depress For they wish they had friends in excess I ask Why can’t they voice out? So that they could sprout And appreciate what friendship is all about This writing is their call out Giving them the right route That to make friends is simple Example Break your inner shackle As you move with your ankle Say "hello" and cause a sparkle But if they return a frown Never loose your crown Don’t let reject make you drown But remember That there is someone in the next town Even downtown That needs you, for they are down So interact and don’t feel inferior For a little confidence Would prove to others, your essence And in the end, magnify your presence Hence Live and extrovert Draw people close like an advert So that your presence creates a concert So don’t let your friend counts go inert But be a friendship expert |
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well thats what they all say just keep em and one day you gon use em well, i believe these poems are to be shown out to the world, and not to be kept for poetry is to touch lives and even save em what do you think so i guess i am raising a revolution about showing poetry to the world so who is with me !!! |
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Here is one, its about abortion She was young indeed With many men pestering like weeds She was truly fine Sparkling to be precise With her ova filled with fertile seeds Making her hormones call for men in disguise To her the first says “would you be mine” I would provide all you need, Need it be your feeds? Another said “lady do choose me and be wise” For I am filled with good deeds And not filthy like a swine But then came another Saying “id love no other” Only if you let me be your children’s father So look no farther But farther she looked And she saw her perfect wooer saying – I am not crooked So let me be your precious anther Love me – the black as a panther For I am true not to leave you stigma Do let me unfold you – my enigma So that other men would be burnt with rays stronger than gamma Then only you become my children’s mama Then id stick with you till you become a grandma He left her sure She was as clean as a performed manicure Not knowing that he would leave her to stink like manure Manure – only to speed up germination germination of what now grows in her belly For her virginity gave into temptation leading to pregnancy at an age so early Her child develops With her tummy as its nutritious envelope Yet its about to be torn and pierced A process the medically sound call abortion Now the child cries to the lord While the lord full of pity says to the baby – endure Endure – this evil of the sword That would drain your amniotic fluid For as she thinks of how men has made her stink God already knows her plan So as he gives the baby he forms comfort He curses her womb For a womb for a growing life has turned its tomb Abortion is why this poetry came to this occasion On this very august session I have joined fleets of feet Coming to this Sheratons function To make poetry brings awareness Bringing a junction that would end abortion For these words are the concoctions That we must take like a portion Then far away our thoughts shall go And as I drop words like a cargo Id create no farrago But would convince that abortion is what we must forgo As you stow in this flow Realize that it is about Africa practicing abortion While other nations are practicing adoption Pregnancy should leave a woman no option For babies are spirits to be born Then why do we cause their scorn In Africa, I pray that God intercedes So that babies birth – we don’t recede For they are our accede Abortion leaves babies to be castaways Blinding us to see that they are our generational pathways So really – abortion is a sacrilege That we must kill with our moral sledge For I give this act no pledge From humanity give abortion a wedge For even its thoughts drives me to the edge Because it leaves our lives in bondage We kill – and heaven turns our phage For they see the babies rage. This writing is a living sage And to understand it – let no man claim dotage To its call to end abortion by sabotage For if sex is our immoral fancy Its consequence is said to be unwanted pregnancy but if we love sex then why not love the result of infancy Why don’t we think of the baby’s pain? Even our marital stain Because the baby is alive – yet we kill like Cain this makes me disdain abortion to be slain This act turns the generation insane Leaving me to ask – why we can’t be sane To know that the babies death isn’t sweet sugarcane What happened to pity in our beloved city? Fetus killing should be a renowned scarcity So let’s try sanity Start by attacking sexual immorality Which leads us to give an unwanted baby its undeserved mortality? But why does the woman forget her baby’s ability while she lets abortion kill its future capability Even God weeps As abortions horror sweeps His heart aches deep Because abortion has taken over the hearts of his sheep’s He cares about the fly Tell me how much more – the baby’s cry This act has to go dry The evil of abortion has to fry Let sexual acts of reproduction be guided by marriage Then, there would be no baby miscarriage So from my stage I do see a new age Were we wont dump babies like they are wastage So let every one keep these page Till the horrors of abortion is in its cage |
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I ask and keep asking myself this question all over and over again what do i do with my poems i keep writing that i think there aint no blank page to fill anymore the question now is that what do i do with 'em or may i ask you what do you do with yours !!! |
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on behalf of lime orange, pawpaw, lemon, bannana piineapple, mango cherry and a host of others I wish you a fruitful month |
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My review is that this peom relates to someone or people who think they aint beautiful come to think of it, beauty is in diverese ways i think the peom is nice because it got me thinking about what we sometime have that we think is not good enough we cant be too sure anyway these happens in everything we do, we are good at something and we think we aint I will try to relate this poem beyond being beautiful it can be seen in a variety of ways it is also like putting on a cloth and you are told it is very beautiful, there goes your doubt, you put off the cloth and i say to myself after being tired of assuring you, 'that cloth is fine and she/he doesnt know it, if that cloth is not beautiful then what is ? Nice one |
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i seem to find myself looking for those who write poetry i speak of any gender and age but i will be restricting myself to those who stay nearby ikeja,maryland,ogba and berger for personal reasons, and easy meeting think about this !!! i want to know what the wworld is offering and show what am tendering !!! Holla |
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very well, i have been pushed to write about my sunday i thought i never will, but i just have to write about it someday and sisikill had to make it thisday now am about to break it down like thisday - the news paper Curse me if i be the hater hater of sundays - the best day of our God, our porter About his day, i have become a reporter the sunday wont seem to appear more drab, it starts by waking up with that boring dream Not night mares to which i would scream but trust me, its about waking up feeling so tired, weak and maybe more slim its hard to have a bath, shower and cream i drag my feets at every move, inability to flow fast like a stream to iron, electricity is all gone no NEPA, how about i press bythe heat of the sun or a charcoal iron - charcoal as black as my soul This are the activities in my room How about i go check out, if i could still do morning chores with a broom i forgot, i aint sweeping today, its a sunday there i am finding excuses not to think about the church and being in the congregation i made my way downstairs to my brothers room, filthy, lord give me air No lies, i think he needs care only this time, my brother aint an slowpoke thought of Christ never burst his bile he had been dressed up all this while mums service starts at seven i only get to see her sundays when she is back at eleven as for dad, i think we are pals we dont both go to church afterall i think about church we are even but my brother begins to stall 'are you going to go to church at all' angry he is at me, little does he know that he is on his own, let him be hotter than the oven I aint leaving my beds coven In that house, its two against two Me and Dad at home, My brother and mum in church. but if i had gone to church, there would have been more girls to meet and woo the truth is that sunday is a blessed day in that church is our life's real sun, we cant do without Gods ray in there, Church on sundays keeps every life in array A home for those who have gone astray astray to different temptation as sin in our life way but what about the praise and worship even if you dont want to clap or open your lip doors in your heart are opened, and the spirit goes in deep Sundays is the best day to live, see and keep for better i keep living sundays than to RIP I just joined nairaland, am blessed to write, i need reviews - so i hope y'all see this clip its something short under 15 min of seeing sisikills strip i think she is good, cos i did flip anyways, sundays is what you should embrace its a wonderful day of the lords grace about sundays, id try not to keep a grudge in my face so bye, and give me a buzz or a trace ayoodukale2002@yahoo.com |
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very well, i have been pushed to write about my sunday i thought i never will, but i just have to write about it someday and sisikill had to make it thisday now am about to break it down like thisday - the newspaper Curse me if i be the hater hater of sundays - the best day of our God, our porter About his day, i have become a reporter the sunday wont seem to appear more drab, it starts by waking up with that boring dream Not nightmares to which i would scream but trust me, its about waking up feeling so tired, weak and maybe more slim its hard to have a bath, shower and cream i drag my feets at every move, inability to flow fast like a stream to iron, electricity is all gone no NEPA, how about i press bythe heat of the sun or a charcoal iron - charcoal as black as my soul This are the activities in my room How about i go check out, if i could still do morning chores with a broom i forgot, i aint sweeping today, its a sunday there i am finding excuses not to think about the church and being in the congregation i made my way downstairs to my brothers room, filthy, lord give me air No lies, i think he needs care only this time, my brother aint an slowpoke thought of Christ never burst his bile he had been dressed up all this while mums service starts at seven i only get to see her sundays when she is back at eleven as for dad, i think we are pals we dont both go to church afterall i think about church we are even but my brother begins to stall 'are you going to go to church at all' angry he is at me, little does he know that he is on his own, let him be hotter than the oven I aint leaving my beds coven In that house, its two against two Me and Dad at home, My brother and mum in church. but if i had gone to church, there would have been more girls to meet and woo the truth is that sunday is a blessed day in that church is our life's real sun, we cant do without Gods ray in there, Church on sundays keeps every life in array A home for those who have gone astray astray to different temptation as sin in our life way but what about the praise and worship even if you dont want to clap or open your lip doors in your heart are opened, and the spirit goes in deep Sundays is the best day to live, see and keep for better i keep living sundays than to RIP I just joined nairaland, am blessed to write, i need reviews - so i hope y'all see this clip its something short under 15 min of seeing sisikills strip i think she is good, cos i did flip anyways, sundays is what you should embrace its a wonderful day of the lords grace about sundays, id try not to keep a grudge in my face so bye, and give me a buzz or a trace ayoodukale2002@yahoo.com |
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