Brainman concept Poems
Mama's Loved son
by Graham Ereks
Many a time I sit in the sun thinking out loud,
Wondering now and then, lonely as the cloud.
At times, I feel, in all ways, fiendishly dead-ish,
Does caring about myself make me selfish?
I am the quintessential victim of circumstances,
Doomed intoto with relatable instances.
Mama departed to eternity when I was a child,
Now in adulthood, some say I've gone wild.
......
Ode to a Chum
by Graham Ereks
My words to whomever it may concern,
Heed not inattentively, for I'm here to affirm.
'A good name', they say,'is better than sacrifice',
And, I add, is indeed more valuable than jewels.
Why live a life so damn, in all façades, phoney?
Need I remind you that your living it isn't funny?
Why would you, folk, be ensnarled in frivolities
When all you'd get is none but mere trivialities?
......
Ode to Obianuju
by Graham Ereks
Obianuju! Obianuju! My epitome of beauty,
Captivating in all façades, an all in one cutie.
As gentle as a dove you, my dear, always are,
Twinkling ad infinitum like the shooting star.
Lips so glossy, making lyrical my mouth now
And then. Oh, I love the shape of your brow!
My diva with skin like the firm-fleshed ripe fruit,
Lovely in all façades, my dearest Cupid's root.
Now and then I feel you, even in your absence,
......
Port Harcourt, My City
by Graham Ereks
Port Harcourt, my Port Harcourt,
A baronial city, bedraggled and obstreperous;
A city with the good, the bad and the ugly,
Deprived of all in tandem with beauty.
Port Harcourt, my renowned Garden City,
Parlous, galling and , of course, shambolic;
A city where the gardens are but mere weeds;
One where looters and junkies own the streets.
......
An African's moaning
by Graham Ereks
Entombed in pregnant forlornness,
Entrapped in life's tiffs, lovelessness,
The living-dead man zombie-walked,
Overpowered by the wind, insulted by insects.
He saunters now and then, hither and thither,
Chatting with the trees, mistaken, every so often, for one non compos mentis. He zombies about, unaware of his deeds, super dead-ish.
Alive yet lifeless, he is but a living dead,
Fully alive, yet fully dead.
......
Port Harcourt, My City
by Graham Ereks
Port Harcourt, my Port Harcourt,
A baronial city, bedraggled and obstreperous;
A city with the good, the bad and the ugly,
Deprived of all in tandem with beauty.
Port Harcourt, my renowned Garden City,
Parlous, galling and , of course, shambolic;
A city where the gardens are but mere weeds;
One where looters and junkies own the streets.
......
Ode to a Chum
by Graham Ereks
My words to whomever it may concern,
Heed not inattentively, for I'm here to affirm.
'A good name', they say,'is better than sacrifice',
And, I add, is indeed more valuable than jewels.
Why live a life so damn, in all façades, phoney?
Need I remind you that your living it isn't funny?
Why would you, folk, be ensnarled in frivolities
When all you'd get is none but mere trivialities?
......
Ode to Obianuju
by Graham Ereks
Obianuju! Obianuju! My epitome of beauty,
Captivating in all façades, an all in one cutie.
As gentle as a dove you, my dear, always are,
Twinkling ad infinitum like the shooting star.
Lips so glossy, making lyrical my mouth now
And then. Oh, I love the shape of your brow!
My diva with skin like the firm-fleshed ripe fruit,
Lovely in all façades, my dearest Cupid's root.
Now and then I feel you, even in your absence,
......
An African's moaning
by Graham Ereks
Entombed in pregnant forlornness,
Entrapped in life's tiffs, lovelessness,
The living-dead man zombie-walked,
Overpowered by the wind, insulted by insects.
He saunters now and then, hither and thither,
Chatting with the trees, mistaken, every so often, for one non compos mentis. He zombies about, unaware of his deeds, super dead-ish.
Alive yet lifeless, he is but a living dead,
Fully alive, yet fully dead.
......
Cease Messing with my Feelings
by Graham Ereks
Cease messing with my feelings, I pray thee!
Don't be the Zacchaeus in need of a tree.
My feeling's grown up, mega pregnant,
Oscillating now and then, indeed not stagnant.
Ought I to be to you the mendicant at the beautiful gate;
Why treat me like a dry bone? Can't we just date?
I am a living soul, not the entombed Lazarus,
Madly in love with you, for you're so precious.
May I know your code, my jewel, my angel?
......
