Six bags are packed around the corner;
The first contains fortune’s denial
With a bloated bosom begging for respite.
The second contains applications disapproved-
9 companies,six virgins, and 8 distressed proposals.
The third contains abused memories;
Joy conditioned, faith evicted, and imprisoned emotions.
The fourth carries the burden that family ties;
Age confused, marriage refused, credit card overuse,
Tempered relatives, nosy neighbors, sibling dysfunction.
The fifth reveals a thousand reasons to give up;
Missed graduation, an arrogant molar, incomplete childhood,
Stunted sex streets, dead gardener, bedridden brain,
Destitute prostitute, divided dreams, and
The statement that disillusion meant.
The sixth bag,bigger than the others
Brings out a simple note:
“You can choose the day to die”. -Leon
I done them did.
I ain’t doing no more,
But the aimlessness that would mean is cruelty to me.
I can’t stand it.

Unperturbed and soothingly sweet,
A voice whispers to me,
“The resolution has no life of its own.
You conceived it.
Your words breathed life into it.
You made it in your likeness, for your image.
All the chains link by link you built with your hands.
Your incarceration was your doing.
Your slavery was your choice.
You wanted a name.
You wanted fame.
That golden chance in the sunlight,
The dazzling stage, brilliant spotlight.
Each one a link and link by laborious link,
You built the cage and made the chain.
With which you bound yourself.

“Oh, and the keys are in your keep.
Make of this what you will.
Resolute or not, you may choose.
Onus on you.” -Seun
My thoughts when I screamed happy new year.
I will be perfect
Won’t club or kiss
No dating, serving God will be my craving
Release videos, achieve a lot with audios
Get myself a good manager, even if I get to manage her.
Will pray everyday, sing to the most high in high notes
Like fast, preach like the Maya’s who has a say
My friends will be for a purpose, meaningless relationships I oppose.
The Scripture will be my word cure
Will be careful not to get my heart broken by harmless Wolves
My calendar will I follow.
Though, I forgot. Events happen on the date but the day.
Those were my thoughts.
Listen to reality.
I, bagged an award for foolishness.
Gave my soul into their mentality.
Believed their critiques which placed me stagnant cause they defined my art
In a case where by art can’t be defined.
The zeal withered like the leaf fall from a green tree.
Began to rip myself off, off of the garment that spelt excellence.
Saw my mediocrity playing a tune in my eyes.
Although, I was still praying but assurance got far away from my content
My words had fate and abandoned faith.
I achieved though, like I could write my performance pages I did on stages that I didn’t see coming.
Am thankful for that, it helped unbelief.
Unbelief? A language I understood heartedly, the teary voice I had when performing with Kings and in Queens, gave me a belief that events happen on the date not the day.
Then, khaki with white soles set my art from my soul cause I paid attention to what’s not my own.
Can this be broken down to the walls I built, relationships were ending. I thought I was the girl on lonely Street who hardly had a boo fit.
Times went by, pornography affected her psychology it became so beautiful and it wrecked her beauty.
Contents left her lips, lips began moaning to filth, filth defined her day, day wasn’t bright anymore.
Looked back, this was not my resolution I planned, what happened to the prayer life I coveted?
Again, the year is coming to an end.
Resolutions that might not last for seconds is becoming the deceit of many. I just see a black wealthy Poet talking to Bob about taking a risk of becoming a white house guest.
I faith it will play well when Donald ask for dinner, is this too much? I know my words won’t fall to the ground.
These are the seeds I sow all year and round.-Rachel Charles
Verily, readily I sit on the edge of these thoughts
prescribing the position of the lead.
I have a mind that is Gothic and cursive
it’s as old as an English typewriter.
That’s how much I see you paging
an oath for the dead god,
the writing process of a righter
and a pain finally let go.
Heavily I will let the scene fade
by the power of the man
seated above the clouds.
I will be treated as ‘the prince’
I will bear a heart of a King.
Those are the options below the above
optimism, a reflection of the first letter
the one that begins a name ‘Reindeer’.
Simple as a vowel, complicated consonants
won’t rid my lips but read my lips.
I have no time for negativity,
a minus is an out especially ‘lukewarmness’ – Ruddapoet
A resolution to be a gypsy
Fairy tales happy endings
Engulfed tears of past memories ripped apart, thrown away.
A girl who will love herself unconditionally.
Forget what the world says about how her life is to play out.
Be my distinguish audience, keeping up to the view.
A little bit not very opinionated by where I should try fitting.
Am a girl, who will be a woman in her little world.
No promises made, no promises to be fulfilled
Just a brighter shade of me existing. Hypermind

On the eve of a new calender
I vow to flee vows
When i drag my good to open thoughts
And dismiss them
No accolades for the team that kept me humane

On the eve of a new calender
My bad drags me to court
Cuffs me with guilt and inadequacy
Dares me to make a vow
Sentences me to perfection that only resides in wishes

On the eve of a new calender
I resolute not to resolute
I’ll take a path and not overthink it
Dealing with my demons one night at a time
Toasting to my fortune and misdeeds.-Omolola
Don’t ask me about resolutions
I am not one to make any
I have no promises to uphold
No grudges to settle
No agreements to adhere to
Everyday i wake and live
My mind changes more than a cat
I may change
I may not change
It is still me with the I
I belongs to me
Year in year out
Resolutions grow stale
And get tossed in the bin of life.
What is life without one?
What is one without life?
Resolutions become routines
Routines get boring
Boring norms get broken.
Broken hearts get clumped.
Too clumped to live
I have no reservations against resolutions
But here is the simple plan
I plan to live.
More is in the being
Than the saying . . . the planing
. . . and the planting.

For seasonally, like the winds
Tenures will come and go
That whispers a
Necessity to dethrone
Inherent mediocrity
Another praises tilling
Yet, harvest may be Judas.

But this have I learned
From the pages of the ages

That the pride of choices
If the heart is an apprentice
Of learning is not foolery.
For tomorrow will walk up
To you with its head down
When your today is not
A tither.

More is in the being
Than the saying . . . the planing
. . . and the planting.
This dusty shelf with unscored goals
The archived resolution that lack resolution
Was she just words on a paper?
Or a do-as-everyone-does?

The blank page of the year to come
Craving for its own pregnancy
That twelve months will surf pass
Only to look back into the months wondering where the pregnancy fell off

Will against doubts
I still scribble
Starting with the resolution then the resolution
A journey of a million miles doesn’t start with a step
It begins with the will to embark

First I’ll be me
Then nurse me
Then grow me
Then quit our friendship with the ugly me
Then strengthen my bond with the Beautiful me
This year shall be all about me. Tee2emm


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