Imo Peter

SCIENCE OF MY TEACHER
Once upon a time, I was a seedling
Nurtured in nursery by your fertility
I shed not your tendrils of tenderness
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THINK AGAIN
Asuu! ! Weldon!
The result is here
Kindly take a glance
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My shoulders shrug on your awry acts
Never will I constitute an audience
Enthralled by your show
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Though I'm not an eagle
I'll soar above the mountains

If track trekking lanes become
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I can't wait for tale of tellers
I wouldn't want to be told
I can recognize my property
Hidden in you
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Do not father me
If fathering means
Procreation without provision
If your love means
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If we dance to the rhythm of greed
Squander resources and sell today
What then would gain?
The comings of tomorrow
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Hail! The architect of virtue;
Where characters are molded
And life becomes blossomed!
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I live in the shore
Because my source is sure
I will toil and toil and toil
Till I get my ore
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At creation's scene on repose sensed
Let's manufacture! Creator exclaimed
Our replica in flesh and bones and blood
So did the utterance, ignite the scene
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If the day glooms,
How would the night!
The night waits still tarrying with day
As day glows dark partying with night
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Like appendages deprived creatures
Rises a generation
Slumber snoring in snug
Perspiring damply from idle greased fatigue
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If perhaps, you find me in solitude
Uttering to myself exaggeratingly
Do not broadcast my craziness
I may be running romantic affairs
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Dear motherland!
Only you I own, to you I owe
A commitment of wholly and remit of just
A love undefiled and will of divine
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'The future is now 'is not a myth
Tomorrow's dice is tossed today
The chance is today to make a choice
Tomorrow brings today's result
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As we set forward to a new dawn
Let the cacophony of hunted horns
Befall and hunt stone-hearted titans
And cause their falling as of the walls of Jericho
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Thought swings like pendulum
Heart beats unusual rhythms
Mind ponders on adventure
Head turns upside down
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At the meeting of forest Politburos
Mammals and insects made their claims
See! Our forest forays into exit
Mammals alert!
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Though this land is ridden
By static riders
Though the land is pedalled
Anticlockwise
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If you again plan of sense-tricking
with vocabularies
And enticing with stolen wealth
to skyrocket your ego
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