What calls for all these hullabaloo?

Like the rantings of the animals in the zoo

But don’t be annoyed, it’s what I love to do

And I care less about the accompanying boos

I have my cronies, my bosom dudes

Who are at the vanguard of speaking the truth

We made a pledge never to be rude

To the existing laws and rules.

So if you hear me shout on top of my voice

That appears to you like a deafening noise

It may be a noise at the highest decibel

Like the voice of Danny and Jezebel

It’s all in the bid to tell my cronies not to go there.

As a result of my disposition

And my uncanny proposition

Some seem not to be enamoured at me

Which means they don’t like me

But that makes me to be more meek

My disposition mixes no business with pleasure

Time for venture, time for adventure

Mixing both is like incurring the wrath of a vulture

That can consume the flesh of one’s business

Thereafter what happens? An incurable sickness

I draw a thin line between the two

In the time of business,seriousness

And an unwavering commitment

With the application of my tenacity and savvy.

My face may appear contorted, unfriendly

And my voice so vociferous,

Outside of business,  on the social strata, no one’s palaver

Like the indifference of a cadaver.

A perfect apotheosis of flippancy

Adopted by anyone inebriated by the social life.

Don’t mix business with pleasure

Work while you work, play while you play

Don’t play while you work but you can work while you play.


In the quest to unravel more of myself

I came across a stunning discovery.

It’s a discovery per excellence

One that I may not have had to agree with

But it’s not a discovery encapsulated in one sentence

Pivoted on the periphery of human’s subsistence.

Don’t sing your own praises, says a popular maxim.

I don’t think I agree with this.

You can recite your panegyrics

But don’t appropriate the praises to yourself.

I’ve come to see myself as being dogged,

Unruffled by anything whatsoever.

Firm, resolute, quintessential,exemplary.

Stubborn but not with a trace of recalcitrance

Except in a glance.

My recalcitrance only exists in a trance.

Upon discovery, it goes off in a glance

And I try as much to avoid playing pranks.

I’m as dogged as doggedness with other sterling and admirable qualities.

Except with a deficit of a quantifiable measure and quantity.

It’s quantifiable because it causes no stir and scare.

It causes no jitters in nobody’s spine.

This is it; I don’t have the capacity of thinking.

It’s a thinking not categorized under reflection.

I do reflective thinking and a thorough appraisal

I think thoughtfully.

I reflect soberly, not somberly.

But my brand of thinking lacks anxiety.

If it were a thought, it’s reflective implicitly.

I’ve got a large of accommodation

But it’s porous to hold anxiety.

Some perceive this as a virtue,

Some see it as a vice

A virtue to those who practically relate vertically,

A vice to them that hobnob and interlock horizontally.

I never saw it as any of the two, fleshly

But the deposit of God’s word does the bidding.

It has become so unconscious to feel and explain.

But something of all things makes me anxious,

Restive and restless but not to make me sleepless.

When someone tells me we need to talk.

We need to talk about something.

It makes me feel jittery

I’d begin to dissect and dilate upon nothing.

Have I done something wrong?

Does the person need my help?

A gamut of ranges of negativities begin to prop up.

Aside this, my emotion is stabilized in God.

Author: Olajide Oluwafemi