One day

I’ll be more established

Than Wordsworth.




Contemplating what the

Words worth.

Searching for the hidden meaning

Like a word


Something that church

Doesn’t offer but

I still yearn

as the world turns

And this third degree burn

Making it feel like an inferno.

Corny words pop


I feel like, the colonel.

But deep down...

Really deep down

I’m still planted

like a seed afraid to grow

or a chameleon, afraid to show

It’s true colours.


I shout with vibrant yellows

but cry black.

In fact

I’ve stopped shouting altogether.

I’m speaking to God.

Will he answer back?

Okay this time,

Will he answer back?

It’s ringing,

                  It’s ringing,

                                   And ringing

and I’m scared it might

go through

so I cut it off.


Not because I don’t wanna have a conversation,


but like Mr. West:

We ain’t spoke truly in so long

and no,

I don’t want to say so ‘long

to the sole reason

I have been brought

To the foreground.

It’s just that-

for now

this moment in time

I don’t know if I’ll be accepted

among other things

Like a bad haircut

There’s no fringe to result to.

So I’m bingeing on a life

that could fall through.


I promise that it’s foolproof,


-Ope Oduwole