My Sojourn, On this Land..

Posted: January 23, 2015 in Poetry
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Upon nine mountains I tread to reign in this kingdom
Among several seeds dispersed on a journey to rule
Racing on the anthills to wrestle for a value
There I succeeded, thrusting others with my hard thumb
For I am Akanda; the mysterious sojourner
That welcomes himself with some cries of lateness anger
Precipitated by the damsels of the mountain
On whose all lips I dearly found lullaby’s fountain.

Nine rivers I did cross; with me, swimming all alone
There, comfort pleased my feet; for sweet and sour they did taste
So my flesh pleaded; that in time, there shall be some waste
For on its brow were some sweet pleasure found there got done
But oft I chided it with biting satires I found
Thus refrained her from the vain urge that on its lips sound
The ninth mount; the ease of all, but its rivers hindered
It was quick to curb its tides when my valiant angered.

I, Akanda; my royalty shall rule this kingdom
Fate had spoken it; on the far ninth mountain I heard
The words then came hostaged when my intrepid ears heard
Caress not my head; my hairs have malign momentum
When they pierce, their anger suck bloods; for them it pleases
The bloodshed herald their strong stride to assert their wishes
The cries of my lateness anger are my conquest song
I shall rule this kingdom; I shall rule for years so long.


© – 2015 – AdamsMurphy®


Posted: January 15, 2015 in Poetry
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In my “IT” days
When I was on the “HE” road
When my Tabula Rasa was a Saint
Still whole and not defiled
Of it innocence with vanity

In my “IT” days
Hands stayed where they are meant
Legs were never hasty to tread
The eyes were of eagles borrowed
Pure and clear; never intruding

In my “IT” days
Dreams were yet blessed
And memories were still unborn
Peace was still a young naïve
Of glowing smiles that gladdens the ambience

Not until I tread my “HE” grasses
Then, my eyes; the unseen sees
The Tabular Rasa; of jargons filled
Courtesy of the orchard’s nurture
Now, my adaptive nature, succumbs.

© – 2015 – AdamsMurphy®


Posted: January 14, 2015 in Poetry
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Have you seen those days?
When memories were still moments
Reminisce, occurs

Have you heard those songs?
Chanting the unsung merry
On forgotten tongues.

Have you graced those skies?
When the colours were still blue
A gladsome wiggle

Have you seen their foots?
Formed by debris of valiance
And humane swelters

Have you learn their steps?
Of their solemn dogged dance
That spit rusty dusts

Have you felt their blood?
Hunting memories in the wild
With weary wrinkles

Their birth are but rather noble
Not a slavery flesh on their brow.


© – 2015 – AdamsMurphy®


Ferries on the road
Cars on the sea
Laughter on the dimples
visual on the lips

The seen are paranoid
The heard yet quivers
Surrogacy of thoughts
On an exile of fame
Illusion veils a seem mystery

Sentiment supplicates mercy
An ambience of ambiguity and feint
Intelligence masturbation and weariness
The fovier’s ailments have worsened
To foresee thus becomes worrisome
For these seem, the state of our Nation.

#politics #aCryforEnlightenment

© – 2015 – AdamsMurphy®


Posted: November 14, 2014 in Poetry
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Hand of life

Seems like the more I think
The more ambiguous things become
Seems like the more I search
The more things and words get elusive
Seems like the more I go
The farther the journey gets
Seems like the more I build
The more things get undone
Seems like the more wealth I gather
The needier I become
Seems like the clearer I see
The blurrier all becomes

Seems like the more people I trust
The more betrayal I experience
Seems like the more I try to love
The more I get hated by people
Seems like the more I eat
The more hunger finds a place in me
Seems like the more the rain falls
The thirstier the lands seem
Seems like the more I quest for truth
The more lies sing of victory
Seems like the more I feel I have won
The more failure’s hue become brighter
Seems like the more the Sun shines
The more darkness darkens
Nothing ever come so real as they seems
Life is so contradictory and vague
Today never defines tomorrow!

©2014 ~ AdamsMurphy®


Posted: October 28, 2014 in Poetry
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A final tribute

Seven lives you had
Over some woven tethered
Of ancient  mended clothings
They were your left fingers rings
On your brows they hide there feet
Your lips harboured their white stars
Glowing fine on your soft sleeves
Kimola, your life was seven.

Your heart did whispered to me
It jittery voice bruised my mild
Mild, my mental of royal scheme
But the songs seemed of Nightingale’s borrowed
Albeit my mild still bleeds of the bruises
Now that your steps have missed the ground
And you are gone, gone to pity my adversaries
Kimola, shall you still come?

I asked of you at the backyard
Bloodshed were my clock’s time
Tears were my Cheek’s golden polish
Backyard brothers grayed my page with your dirge
Then, your mem’ries whipped my conscience to weep
But the tears still were my comfort
Yea, on a pedestal of selfish blues
Kimola! Shall I again behold you?

I knew your first life
It was made of finely brewed jealousy
Writhe in hierarchical chauvinism
Its tyranny humbled soon the second
The breathes from the thirds’ nostrils got aglow
Its flames choked them when others were yet born
Even when others came, they dare not speak
Their heart was a resident of their lips.

Did the callous sixth eventually fight?
Fight to save the fourth from thirds’ cruelty?
Your seventh, immature, weary to strive
And yet inflicted the innocent fifth
Kimola! How soon your waters ran off!
Seven congenial lives, of mysteries
But the lives were arrogant to live
For their stay with you came so malignant.

Unending joy seemed, the ground’s countenance
Your mouth-maggots scheming, Ground acquainted
Albeit of sweetness your response once tend
The hue of your Hyde shy to glory
Perhaps it’s saddened courtesy of your rest
Not your rest, but your seeming cowardice
Your extinct dreams that roared, though covert
Kimola, I yet glimpse bright your spirit!

I knew not if gloating your heart desires
But my euphoric bloods has journeyed South
The ice have fainted their arrogant hues
Fosterage harangues to ameliorate
Too weak my sun seems; Sorrow stupors me
My quest hope to banish this thoughts of you
Till my heart find rest where your abode sites.


©2014 ~ AdamsMurphy®

A Man of Honour

Posted: October 3, 2014 in Poetry
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I saw a man of honour
On whose lips sweet deceit reigns
As does the kings on their throne
Veiling faces with pure lies

When his mendacious lips cries
For intelligence arousal
Feigned orgasm does arise
Brain flexibility shamed

From limited knowledge he tries
To fool children unsuspecting
In his effort not relenting
And yet they sit, while time flies

Maybe we stand to see far
Beyond what we are being told
Perhaps some deep knowledge quest
Would save from shackles of tongues



Posted: September 4, 2014 in Poetry
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I fed on sorrow today
And it constipated me
Twice I refrained from its feeding
But it’s conscienceless
And would countless time make
Me bite hard its sourness.

Shall I plea? It hears not
For my weakened soul would only whisper
And sorrow’s drum only vibrate
When the voices chime
Shall I ever be happy again?
For with sorrow, my voice got withered

My bloods may soon be sick
My voice, a twice dumb
Wither to sleep or die shall now question
But to die shall be made aglow
So I may not wake again
To see the hurting pain

Then in death I live many lives
Life of yellow and roseate existence
Where sorrow shall relinquish its power
And pain shall have nothing up its sleeve
Till death shall later come in death
And memories shall speak of my lived life.



Posted: August 3, 2014 in Poetry
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When madmen were still crazy
And sanity was elsewhere busy
With fidelity, they were allegiance to their folly
With no contempt, they may perhaps be yet Holy
They need not put on frown of melancholy
But a plea of Sanity sojourn for soberness solely

Dementia by concussion! Whose fault?
Mediocrity demented them, their sanity it halts
Not concussion like I once thought
Madmen with power; Madness doubled
Power precipitated their real selves forth
Pretence; they are not crazy like they are madness

The serene mellifluous that terminate my forty winks
Its to make the melancholic me sober and think
Adonis with Sepulcher head that claims wisdom
He forgot the Maggots yet deny his sanity’s freedom
Adonis their Epitome, incommoded by vision loss
Obliterating their mission; Power made thus.

Not to be a dissident, but this is not democracy
Government Obscurantism, a bad policy
Who clamor for their obsolete changes?
The woman crying only does for the drying sea
The river does cry, but it tears you won’t see
Fallen days lay siege, Nemesis anger would be.

#A_Political _Illustration…

~ CopyRight Adamsmurphy 2014 ~

Tony my Dear Friend

Posted: June 27, 2014 in Poetry
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Tony, dear Tony my good friend
Tony of Nightingale’s vocals
Ozing through his pink oval lips
Lips of the spring; so colourful
Tony of admired postures
But of white-faded pulchritude
Fainted beauty of his ageing
Not old age nor of luxury
But of misplaced priority
Making a stroll down his weak spine
To commend his lecherous blood
Of which indulgence he delight
Tony! Could your ways be ever straight?
Off your crooked pleasure of vain
Will your feet ever stand so good
On decency platform of life?
Without any compromised form
Over your bogus gentleness
I shall fight with you, yea so soon
Not the physical self of you
But your mind and mental scheming
To make halt the insidious thoughts
That smokes your sanity for fun
Before your arrogance ripens
To thwart fortune’s goodwill for you
If I win, it shall delight me
You shall be drunk of soberness
For o’er my seeming naïve lips
Shall teach you intelligent words
So, my cridecoeur is my fight
Though your unrepenting soul prouds
But I so pledge pertinacious.

~Copyright 2014~Adamsmurphy®

NOTE: this poem is not about any personality. It was written about the state of today’s society.