W . A . R. by Awonaike Seyi.

It's not the war we fear, how can we when we are part of it and it one of us. We are scared of ourselves, of the brutality within, needing desperately to be made alpha.

The mind goes blank when it finally realizes the silent nagging fear, always warning him of his neighbor's savagery! That neighbor that would always smile at you, wonderfully waving his hands, saying good morning to you.

Overnight the dream turns to a never-ending nightmare, for when it finally ends scars trails behind. The ant in our brain will finally find its way back to our heart biting conscience into our souls.
But there's still an ant, an unstable one at tthat. The concern then will be, what will be the trigger? Who will be the trigger, who will pull the trigger, and after who will be on the receiving end.

And will you, (even when your savage self begs to be exposed), still be human, be kind, be merciful, forget the past in other to forgive the innocent head (with eyes bulging out of fear silently pleading you spare his life) kneeling in your front. Will you do what they didn't do? Will you let go?
                     
                                                                                                                   Seyi Awonaike

Perturbed by Awonaike Seyi

His at it again!
The Arggggggghhhhhh noise!
Ringing in his head!, The angry sound forcefully wanting to be expressed,
To be set free, angrier at him for refusing,
It punishes him, mounting pressure upon his mind, his chest,
Making him fidget, looking annoyingly disturbed.
Making him doubt himself, if truly, he has lost control over his emotions,
Not wanting to admit the truth because he knows not what is true,
Too cowardly for that kind of confrontation,
Taking the easy way out, he cries,
Silently of course and in the dark,
That way no one will know
He won't give it the satisfaction of raging out loud like a crazed boy.
If that be the case, then why is he still the way he was?
Why does he feel heavy and empty at the same time?
Why are his eyes open yet he choose not to see?
His belly burns but he refuses to eat, why?
Ain't his answer right?
Or like maths does he need to show his workings,
To take, step by step each frustrating layer that burdens him?
If that be the case, then, he rests his case.
He knows what HE is thinking,
Kicking himself, mentally calling him a coward,
No worries he has done that already,
A million times before and will do it a million time again.
At least till he is ready and fit,
Enough to look deep into his abyss and come out victorious
Till then he will cry when he hears it ring ..
If indeed he has lost control or will lose control,
Then he will rage and rage on but until then,
His plastic smile looks pretty on him and convincing to others,
So for now let him leave the hard work for the future.
                                                                                     
                                                                                     Seyi Awonaike.

We got different perspective towards life and it's activities, and my own opinion on dancing is....
dancing is a drunkards stagger gone wrong.
The best dancers are those who can make perfect an imperfect move,
can turn beautiful, a very ugly posture.
It's no wonder a dancing portrait is hard to find,
for who is so gifted to see the beauty in awkward movements,
who is that patient to monitor unaccounted steps?
To re interpret  the drunkards frustrations into pure joy so convincingly...
                                                                            Seyi Awonaike.

SECRETS by Awonaike Seyi.

Show me one who can keep a secret, perfectly and I promise not to tell him a perfect secret. For such a rare gem does not deserve such temptations

Although you wish you could but life's lessons aiint so easy to forget. Wanting desperately to unburden yourself you turn to the next person, considered as more than a friend too selfish to consider what that weight might cause but not too blind to see.

But of the two, who is more selfish, cause the confidant knows deep down the secret might be too big to contain, but still insists on knowing, so sure it won't remain a secret forever already, the inner self is dancing, anticipating, not necessarily gleeful about it but no doubt selectively choosing the next best ear to tell.

Making you wonder if there ever will be anyone strong enough to save you from dying of this slow vicious poison cause secrets are poisons that need to be spat out... but who is worthy enough to be your sand? To swallow up your poison and not wither, to dry it up without a trace, who is six feet deep and still counting, you will surely settle for a four feet if you find one.

Tired of secrets turning into tales and entertainment for them ears, tired of the asking, reminding and pleading for the safe keeping. What the hell go on and tell the whole world maybe then, you might both be free...
                                                                                                          Seyi Awonaike.