Category Archives: Literature

Prose and Poems especially Diaries.

A Victor’s Battles in Public Office

The key of Life seems to have no lock or bolt,
It comes in various shapes and sizes;
Some too pleasant to see, Others too ugly,
Like an advert or showroom on display.
Still its an imagery that wears a soul,
But dressed in humans of any form.

One can’t tell who’s lauded or spot the crowded,
That rest the title or praise of worth.
For in envy a person is drawn as. Others look with bitter scorn;
An anonymous is he or a group they are, none can tell,
Life seems favourable to that one or many indeed.
Pressure mounts on the receiver of crown,
As it rouses eye bats and cheer, frowns, jeers and hails.

Could they be alive or are they dead,
That these ones forsake the stringent codes.
Throwing away those laws that binds and choke;
The sanctions and grades to convoke their faith.
Yet emerged victorious at last they be,
An award so priceless than names penned in Gold

If so God will award even before he judges them,
For man recommends but won’t approve their dividends of respect;
He’ll set war on the day of their convocation,
To justify the works of those who accredits them.
In vain is those who haunt the selected,
Like a whirlwind thay search, as some of them the elected.

Little wonder the silent system that presented them,
As some deploy to rid the faith entrusted to them.
Forgetting it was their principle that made them stand,
But away they cast themselves by ruining what they planned.
So it may be when they’ve come to realise,
Fewer of them among the elected, stripping off the selected.

A deep confusion bewildered them in utter amazement,
Their disbelief implanted with every trace of guilt.
Their good works ruined by their own hands.
As they bow away with the glory vanishing quickly;
Its the system that has made it look this way,
A cheap blame to save their name.

Thus it builds like a clock above their heads.
Ticking ever faster on those who claim to be good.
Entangled in every fabric of their doings;
Escaped by highly corrupt from every office.
They emerge victorious with their fights and breath.
But in the end comes a blind support of odd codes.

Who is there left worthy to return praised,
For the rewards leaves unstained that man who prevails;
The strength hewn out but the prize still won,
Wonder is still mocking us all.
There are lot of good men in this race,
As fewer drop and still fewer difficult to trace.

If only a day people awaits the sigh of that man to embrace,
His works scrutinised across the works he has done,
Oh yes with the heavy burden of the system sewn.
The attitude and body language may mean another thing,
But his name and his generation is its everything.

My angel and I!

Never will I forget the way you made me feel
Every time I remember your warmly presence around me.
Its like being visited by one of the dearest angels,
Who was sent to pray me through a vision
But refused to return from the mission,
As(s)he sat with me all day watching television.

At night, I’m cloaked with endless tunes
Of heavenly tones wrapped with every tales;
Yet I forget how light my soul was
As my body cheats earth rules.
Thus in my selfishness, I beckoned you to stay,
To soothe my pains and heal me when I stray.

Who can tell if time would come,
Shedding tears on the day we parted ways;
I’ll be by you each day without delay,
By calling me through heartfelt prayers.
Use music and voice your every desire,
As I communicate with God through replies unknown.

This is the new path as I was taught by the angel,
That God is with me even when I feel he’s not.
My prayers transformed in many ways,
If not good mood today or better strength across days;
Not to forget the strange power of confidence when I’m afraid,
The angel in me is better than the worse of me through Satan’s influence.

Friends, this is an encounter I share only imbibed by faith,
God is real more than what I say and feel.
For to prove him here is beyond my state;
Still better his presence when you think he’s not there.
Either of which way he made without proof,
But the only which I give is my encounter with an angel dear!

A Publication of Onyeador Anthony for Uniquely Mustered


There are times you feel like having a retreat. Taking a French Leave from the office so as to re-navigate some thought processes, actions, principles and priorities. Strange, an actual leave may not give you such space. And even if without work, you’re still saddled with responsibilities. So you decide to break away, on an unknown day to save yourself.

You’re in the Park, and about to take off. Only to realise that the important documents is not with you. Recalling how the day begun, you discover that you’d being strayed from your focus. If only I didn’t do this, that… For all the things done around you is done by you. Now its time for you to take a break, and the guilt that things will become more messy is the only thought pondered. To the utmost surprise to all the passengers, you quit your journey half way as you plan a return. To yourself comes this assurance: “To Hell with my admission to the University, my lazy siblings can’t do without me. If I can make them focus to responsibilities and life, I can still have a shot for another admission in the future”

Such are the scarier line of thoughts one takes to build a healthy but stress free personality. The motivation cannot be atoned for yet untraceable within you. For life itself is unpredictable as should you. Yesterday was a regret of an action that was unfulfilled as today is an opportunity locked with lots of challenges you wished you had withdrawn the motive. The conflict of these two fails to perceive the future ahead. But for now, you’re at loggerheads with what to do as you wrestle with the current situation. For the above stories is what people pass through though wrapped with different twists, characters, places and experience – the result is arrived at two variables: Choice or

These two are different for they generate the drive that gives various mediums of preamble. Such preamble are: Time, Device(physical or otherwise), People, Virtues/Vices, etc. Choice is the positive or negative part of the being. The above stories are epitomes of Choice.

CHOICE is that unexplained traffic of thoughts, emotions or disposition, actions and behaviours endowed in one to provoke reactions from the self or/and from others. It gives rise to result to positive or negative or both. It is also an infinitive array of options, challenges, solutions invoked that is transformed to interactions, research, disciplines and onwards. Its a silently salient path imbued in the make-up of the being. Choice when tolled in the positive leads to countless standalone processes which is slowly, moderately or highly replicated. The being exploring this form need not consider or plan introspective patterns of how the results would be. Rather such should totally surrender, give up, let go, or whatever term there is to qualify “free” to the chains of actions, disposition, etc. For it thus becomes a System plied by such a being as he or she maintains, develops or improves the System of Choice in its personality.

Choice if not properly guided trades negativity. It unfortunately shares the same channel with positivity or genuine virtues but its replaced by vices as the System yields negative impact and results. It may not be certain the degree to which one may access it for it stabilises the chain of positive lines. Thus the being needs to have a fair cohesion of Choice-positive or negative- in the development of self. The reaction of it across different groups of self sparks off the reciprocals of various fusion of factors and variables.

A Publication of Onyeador Anthony for Uniquely Mustered

Dancing with the Gods

To whom should I pray to
The One whom faces the East.
Or to the One who conquered the Cross
For the former was a Private God,
Of which I prayed through Culture;
Still confused I am than I ever was
If its by Faith or Tradition that appease God.

For in delight I groomed my life
Which gave room for a new talent.
Its fruits bore with quick strife,
Or its punishment never deterred
Such was the practise ever rife;
All being smooth till I married a wife.

She prayed I stopped bowing to a Strange God
Denouncing woe on the Chief Priest,
How dare she cursed a man so great
Whom unknown to me he fought her faith;
I later came to accept one day,
A challenge he lost to a Stronger deity.

To my surprise to renounce my old faith
I see the Chief priest with a new book,
A bible I was told he now possess!
And a new disciple of what I’m about to profess,
Strange indeed is this God so deep
It converted the one whom I held in high esteem.

As for me its still the same
The prayers I say to the former is for the latter.
But a life I can’t describe is what I can’t bribe,
Persuasion shouldn’t be compared to Persecution.

Or is it the food rendered or its incantation chants,
Is substituted for Communion and Praise.
In difficulty I persisted to learn the new faith,
As I peruse in spirit between two faiths;
Which is higher or should both be practised
Together with my presence of the church gathering.

Yet again I search for meaning
As I travelled again to another religion.
Of washings of hands, faces and feet
And the mat to kiss at every sound;
I stoop to pray with the man beside
To Allah the Beneficiary and Most Merciful

I trace its history embedded Culture
Mohammed is the founder who began in Mecca
Erected beside the Jewish Temple
Began a Race with the Subha and Quar’an
Gazing east whenever in prayer
Remembering the Ancestors who taught the faith.

But blurred and controversial is there to chase,
Its many shoots and promise made;
If gone deeper, what would be my lot?
Or if left shallow, a fight with the brothers’ slot;
So I decide to let go as such is the case,
All Islam pace as I save my face. .

Yet I remember the faith I tendered
About my will to surrender to the Hindus.
Or the Buddhist culture maybe;
But quickly I left as well as how I came,
The Practises, style so fastened to fetish means.

Remembered I sailed from towns through faith
And I ponder which I stuck never to de-base,
The faith of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit
Is what I defend till Heaven calls.

A Publication of Onyeador Anthony for Uniquely Mustered

If you must know

Lots of people are standing by waiting for what would happen next.
When others are going by doing what makes them think best,
The world is cruel with crude intentions, it is true.
But this does not mean you should support what was already there.
For the difference is when you steer yourself to be unique,
Such is the way life can console your every mood.

To peer deeply into one’s thought as an experiment assured,
Is the plan to swindle, steal or maim when there’s a chance.
Even the presumed good will not end as victorious per say;
It began with how to put you off or be ejected from the plan.
Such is the thoughts of every man though not all but some,
Who makes you a nobody of worthless or priceless being.

In your own travails there are cues to take, paths so shortened,
Like it seems it was your might or your power of being.
Yet little was the process started that it tolls a successful gait,
With all the bitter and sweet approaches take and experiences made,
The rewards of success is taken off, no more time to view how it took off.

Or Ever noticed when the. being was dim and everything seems down,
The thought of you resound in the mind for who to blame.
Tracing with past events the present fault picked for future’s dread,
With introspection and other tools varied as means of inventory.
Never a comeback of retreat to use as vehicle of relief,
Of the problems or challenges or whatever that may become the skeleton in the closet.

From all these never strolled this line of thought or foresight,
That alive or dead, wisdom will emerge the conqueror.
Be it male or female is its sex, its the system without recess.
For it was created by God who is difficult to understand,
Or man he uses as instrument used to salvage you from such mess.
Believe it or not, there’s was a known to behold or the unknown ever silent that has never ceased to behold you.

Sweetness of Fresh Happiness

Like the aroma of a favourite ointment,
Or the food newly presented.
Is the feeling I savour deep within,
As I celebrate with weird virtues.
Who knows if it can be weaved into a dream
To portray the passion of perception of life.

Yet without words to say and with no actions displayed,
I trace to find the space of joy.
Warming myself with flanks of greetings
That soothes the calibre of my work given;
For without a stare which I find rare,
The composure of my being in Limelight haven.

The thoughts, gist of those who speak about me,
Seems to rate the peak of success around me.
Celebrating with all that I’ve got,
As I share the spoils of what I’ve brought.
Still the peace of what’s is left
Is the untold history of me in mystery.

Sold to Depression

I wait painfully under the scorching sun,
To wait the arrival of my lost son
Whom loves to behold me before his mum,
But plays with her when I’m gone;
For unknown to me I was dreaming
To be awoken by the dreadful sun.

Yet I wondered if I thought right
To found a home admist my rights,
Never to feel for yonder growth,
All of Nature’s track to bear.
Alas my fears was yet to quell,
My problems fuelled harshly appeared.

Oh why is my plight ever in my sight.
Without its plan never bearing fruit
Deeper and deeper its pains arise,
Making it seem a madman in .a fight,
Prayers lift its curse with little might,
Strengthening my work with heavy frights.

This is why friends hardly come by,
Because I hardly mix and share with bitter tears.
The tales of what makes me break,
Or is it the rewards that never came.
All is what I hide so deep,
My life heaved with Pessimistic peak.

Though all is work that makes one dull,
I venture to change with all becomes sore,
This life of mine hardly wears a smile;
When I tried to keep focused to make a dime
Yet the time to chime never bought a tale
In this world’ frustrating games.

Known to be Known

There are screams and hails of being Popular,
But don’t how to bring it to limelight.
Thoughts from mind and heart flooding in
Making it ever difficult to sift.
Which is the sole or multi-central theme to be,
That will display the successes wrought.

Heaved along traffics of discussions,
As it crosses across words of people,
Who wishes it should be done like this or like that;
But refuses to share from their own experience.
Still I’m left indifferent and ever confused as ever,
To gather the responses matched with their actions.

Wait a minute how dare they put up a fight,
Of doing better if given the chance.
It was my thought which will wear their actions,
And would leave me without recognition;
Quickly I switched to silence,
For I’m better than they, was my impulse.

I needed insight to how to win the world’s sight,
Though its trapped by friends who wish to try;
To beat my imagination to gain heights.
Of Accolades and Hindsight,
Never shall it happen whispers my mind set:
‘You’ll pull through whatever it costs’.

And so it is a vision so real,
To reach the top before anyone could.
The Lauds, Appraise, Hails and Applause;
Its done, Nature has made me strong.
But in dismay I see with a frustrating perception,
There’s more to beat to remain on top.

Locked With Looks

Alone I am, being watched closely.
Perceived with fear rubbed smoothly,
Never knew I am Popular though not known,
Yet I feel unsafe says my hunch.
Who is sighting me among in this bunch of crowds,
Either as Friends to meet or Foe for Kill!

Still I know I fear no grudge,
Personally, Professionally and Politically;
For I won’t meet my end in a rush,
Or want to grow old and judge.
No wonder I feel like a Celebrity,
That loves to dodge or be brushed.

May not seek to search for dates;
And Keen to yearn by the gates,
From my home or with my friends.
In the Clubs, Market and Gardens,
I will live my life without your consent;
So build your plans and dare to present.

Befriend or Pretend to know me,
With envy or esteem deep within;
Not minding what you think,
Or what you feel, act and say about me.
I live to be free nevertheless,
Else I become a script fiddled by all.