Desiderata of Bliss


This is that time in a man’s life
When he must put his feet down
On the race track, on the fast lane.

Nearly all my life, I have trudged
The boulevard of withered dreams
And pounded the hard pavements
On the Lost Street of desolation

I am only just now seeing the signs
Since the mist is lifting, though lingering
As I turned Hope Street, where i have come


Go before me, God!
You who would not lead astray
Lead me in truth’s path

Do not let me fall
And let not the enemies
And scoffers scorn me

Let the truth be light
And brighten the path I tread
Let me not be lost.


Steve Jobs,
I owe him
No! not an apology
I owe Jobs a eulogy
God rest him
He created Jobs


Once a while, a man needs good luck
And he could use favour from God
But if man could make his own luck
To him will come everything good.

It is in the doctrine of True Man
To beat his iron while yet it’s hot
To make hay while the sun, not moon,
Reigns in the sky, and it rains not

No modicum of good can come
To a man who slumbers at noon
This walk of men are found lonesome
Because they lose friends very soon.


These arms of mine, guarding my rib
Be my guide and lead me to her
The samaritan woman at the well
There is salvation at the well
I too will drink of her cistern

I know the way to the living water
But lost it to worldly concern
Take my hand, Madonna
and lead me to Shiloam Pool
I have missed my way to the well

Of the grape of sorrow, I have taken a fair bite
My heel, by which I tread God’s mill
Is infirmed from The Serpent’s bite
Oh madonna, ever virgin
Bring on that soothing balm of Gilead
The wounded heart within my ribs
Follows where your hands lead
Take me to the water, i’ll follow where you lead


The whole essence of the woman
Is the wholesomeness assumed by man
She is not just all bone and flesh
She is a field to glean and thresh

She brings forth fruit in paradise
Like nature, she breeds she nutures

From the WOMB, shaped like an Apple
She offered the child food to eat
And the man, for his Good, did eat


This is really sinful, it is phony
Bloody instant chicory; yhike!
Coffee don’t taste this funny
The aroma and taste is yuck!.

Handy like communion of saints
Inorganic like a toast in vinegar
Phony like the forgiveness of sins
The maker must be BIG FAT LIAR.

I’m recoursing to baby formula
I’m giving up on this bloody sheet
I’ll sooner pay tithe than buy a lie
Then I’ll be sure where to stash it.


When she fell,
she fell on her back
The Earthen pot she had carried
Trekking the nine miles
The weary miles
From the stream
Flowing down from heaven
Touched the ground,
It broke open
Her water was spilled,
And it gushed
Flooding the earth
Gathered in
A confluence,
Like tears, Mother’s tears
in the Tear
Between her thighs

Her water sipped
Into the earth
The earth in
Which is buried
The seed
Nourished by her water
Sprout new life
Embracing the sun
Shooting upward to the stars
Standing upright
Reaching high
Grabbing for the stars
It reached very high

Let the son of man
Take courage in this
In his long ancestry Taking root
Let the son of a woman
Find wisdom in this
The seed in the pod taking root
The root finds water
It finds life
The root finds water
It finds life
The root finds water
It finds life
It is the essence of being
The being and nothingness

The water is
The throb of life
In the womb is
The throb of life
In the woman is
The throb of life
Those who seek, finds
They find life
In the womb of the earth
Mbari… the womb… The earth

We have also come
Home seeking
Finding home
Mbari… Home
In life, in womb
In the womb of the earth
Of the Mbari Woman.


When wind speak through bones,
Then a certain death is come,
As the bones go cold.

Will this soughing wind
Breath through the dark in my heart
And rustle new hopes?

I tread Dante’s path
Labyrinths of purgatory
In chase of the wind…

Breath upon my sail
You wind that blows where you will
My sails are unfurled…

My heart is bared
Waiting your gentle caress
To warm my cold bones.


I live
To serve, that is the way
I live.
My life
Is laid down, for friends in
My life


I smiled at a girl today
On my way back from church
She was from another religion
But she smiled back at me
she smiled a crescent moon.

A smile honest and rewarding
A smile that means shalom, peace
A smile I want to paint on a flag
And let fly on a totem pole

I think the elusive “world peace”
is just a sincere smile away!
A crescent moon smile like this 🙂


She is rich, as in being affluent
She is rich and have influence
But she will soon be overthrown
By the tenants under the throne.

He is rich, wearing a Hitler’s crown
He is rich, to don the emperor’s gown
But beneath the garb, turbulence
Being turmoiled by impotence

Becoming, they were made reich
Lording it over the earth’s wretch
Reigning in majesty over a dung hill
The wretch, forlornly treading God’s mill.

The rampart of their estate is breached,
The tip of God’s nose, how far their prayers reached.
A miasma of gloom is coming down
Around their ears, their eyes cast down.
They are Serfs, though they seem Rich
God’s pearly gate is far from their reach
With worms they strive at the lower strata
Mighty fish in mighty ocean: non grata!


Wow! That lower lip
There is passion lurking there
I have just found it

In seeking passion
I have gone out of the hard way
To tread the middle

Oh! beneath the lip
There molten gold is treasured
I have just found it!


Everything woman is beautiful:
The earth, the Sky, the sea and Hill

The immaculate conception
Christmas, Easter and ascension

Of Dominions, principalities and powers
Worships, amor, thanks, opening flowers

Country of citizens at peace
Saluting Flags, standing at ease

Things that are great and things small Nurture and woman made them all

Bright, beautiful, things like literacy
Justice, Truth, Right, Democracy

The figure 8 of Hour Glass
Succulence, blossom, winsome lass

Life: giving growing and living
Suckling, watching-over, Loving

A man’s help-meet in time of need
Bringing forth, and a friend indeed

Woman is nature; nature nurtures
She is peace, peace is our futures.


why wash my hands in spittle
when i live like a turtle

by the very bank of a river?
this river its sweetly rushing water

is sweet music, soul food for love
love for which my heart strove.

why? why cry i so much tears
when a kiss should bring me cheers?

that kiss of love is all i need,
since I’ve lived by affection’s creed.

why die i slowly, slowly,
though am in love, yet am so lonely?

the aura of cupid’s presence,
i crave so much in February’s absence

i shun the warmth of gold and silver
hopping to be comforted by heaven’s star

i have found a hidden spring
yet my soul thirst for a refreshing drink


They have destroyed God’s temple,
Turned the house of prayer to crap-table.

The Lord’s house for the Lord’s Prayer,
They’ve made a haunts for filthy lucre.
They would God’s house turn to rubble,
They would the pinnacle crumble.

God’s holy sanctuary, a den of thieves,
And aviary for commercialized doves.

Throw them out of the holy temple!
Overthrow those conniving thieving people!

With a whip made of a brand new cord,
I’ll set the manipulating rogues in discord.

Amongst them will erupt a scramble;
There’ll be a stampede in their stable.

Let them destroy God’s holy temple,
But I will again raise it to the pinnacle.

They will never for once comprehend
Why my zeal for the lord’s house will not end


Froward are the ways of my quill
My ink it is so often wont to spill
Before I am ready to give some slack
To those chequered flows held back
While my strong black coffin is being made
By the muse- my thick skulled handmaid
Well, I got it laid everytime I get a block
Putting my neck literarilly on the chopping block

Who will blame a poet for being Blockhead
It is no sin to be perpetually blocked
Only Will I AM got a lucky break through
When the block got pierce with a Shake spear

I can never manage writing sonnets
The schemes buzz in my head like hornets
Although easy it might be, but nay,
Easy never does it for me, making hay
As cacophony climbs in deafening crescendo
For no reason nor rhyme like do ray me far solar till do


If I am granted the power
to create a universe, I will make it
a werld of Green persons places and things.

It will be a werld of green olives,
where there will be no war,
no crime, no poor. It will be A werld
of green forest, where every life forms
are found in harmony. It will be one werld in which there will be
no passports, if there are, all will be green.
Okay! Maybe a strip of white,
but there will be green,
where and there will be
no bar betwixt colours


Shadows: they wouldn’t know where to go
Neither would they know what work to do
Unless we go, back to the promise land
And except we do the works of him who sent us

If we would not know where to turn’ left or right
Neither will our shadow turn left or right
Until the sun make us free, lighting the way
We shall not be free, neither know we the way.


My eyes are lifted up to the sky.
From whence should come the divine reign?
All I am seeing is the misty clouds, dark and gloomy
My heart is perched, standing in this vale of tears
Only the dry bones are my companion
Together we will again rise and shine
When this vale will be emptied of tears
And filled with waters, life giving waters


He has earned the right to style himself ex god.

He has become omni scient in the art of exuality

While others are learned in human anatomy

He has delved into the art of kamasutra

While others earn their masters and doctorates

He earned an honoris causa
Sumnas ex

He has become omni potent in the creative venture of amory

He can always extract the most passionate responses

From any body, however configured

Fat-slim, tall-short, dark-light, cold or hot, and female

He has earned the right to style himself god In xes.


I wonder if anybody stops to look
Up at Lagos sky, it’s a beautiful sight
At dawn, at noon, at twilight and at night
In awesome wonder, i- poet do look.

There is a mad rush going on beneath
The serene Lagos sky’s shimmering bust
Men travailing, seeking gold, but getting rust
But the treasures in the sky remains neat

I want to lay up my treasure up there
In those Lagos skies, streets paved with gold
Where neither area boys nor agberus
Will ever think to look, in their gold rush

There is a mad rush going on beneath
The serene Lagos sky’s shimmering bust
Men travailing, seeking gold, but getting rust
But the treasures in the sky remains neat

I want to lay up my treasure up there
In those Lagos skies, streets paved with gold
Where neither area boys nor agberus
Will ever think to look, in their gold rush


I AM so high I can fly
You will not hear my wings flap
But you will see me fly

I AM most high that I float
Gravity got nothing on me now
I AM Armstrong, I AM god

I AM really high, no shit
I view the whole universe in HD
I AM that I AM, that is it!


Give a man a sword
Allow him to use that sword
He’ll conquer the world

Give woman beauty
With the strength of her beauty
She’ll conquer that man


What is man that he causes God much grief,
What is his days number but brief?

Where on the food-chain, this punny critter,
But little lower than the mosquito?

How really smart is this dumb talking ass,
Who bungles to master the universe?

What is the ultimate end of this Being,
But mere “Dust-To-Dust”? Man is a Dust Being!


You know not how much skeletons
You have, hidden in your closet,
till you clean out the rotten bones
To air out the dark, stuffy closet.

I thought to clean out my closet,
To get rid of the rotten bones.
But I tried, and soon got upset
With the smell of dead, rotten dreams.
The moral of the story is:
To stuff you closet with such things
As light and air and emptiness
And leave no room for lifeless dreams.


I’m sorry, I was wrong
I thought this love was undying
But I’ve never been so wrung
To myself, I’ve been lying

I’m sorry it had to die
I make this concession for love
Tell me, was that love blatant lie?
I find no lifeline to the above


You live in their space
Speak in their tongue
Feed upon their food
Breath of their air
Yet you hate them?

I am sure you hate God
You breath God’s air
Feed of God’s food
Speak in God’s tongue
And live in God’s space

Yes! Ye are God
You breath the air
You eat the food
You speak the tongue
But for love, have no space.


Once a while, a man needs good luck
And he could use favour from God
But if man could make his own luck
To him will come everything good.

It is in the doctrine of True Man
To beat the iron while yet it’s hot
To make hay while the sun, not moon
Reigns in the sky, and it rains not

No modicum of good can come
To a man who slumbers at noon
Slothful men are found lonesome
Because they lose friends very soon.


I am the wind
I lift the skirt of mother earth
Not to ogle, but to shew her well-form beauty

I am the wind
Blowing across the land
Tumbling weeds along unpaved paths

I am the wind
Blowing gently, gently
But rustling the leaves on the forest’s roof

I am the wind
Avidly turning the pages
Of history’s unbound, tattered book

I am the wind
Caressing the babe’s dimpled cheeks
Licking dry, the tears flowing from the angel’s eyes

I am the wind
I bring life to the dying embers
In the censers of the saints’ prayers

I am the wind
Turning the wheel of God’s mill
That grinds slowly but thoroughly


Through The Looking Glass
in My Mind’s living room window,
i spied magic- a wOrld Of cOloUrs;

’tis a Wonderland of Pretty Petals
and Bumble Bees Buzzing aBout.
Amidst Flora and Fiona is Fifi-

I AM your true friend

Why are you lonely
‘Cos you got no companion?
I AM your first love.

Why are you so lost
‘Cos the world’s map has failed you?
Here I AM, the way.

Why do you mourn so,
‘Cos all is dead and corrupt?
Here I AM the life.

Why do you weep so,
Wailing and gnashing your teeth?
Here I AM not dead.

Why beat you your chest
In such glum and despondence?
Here I AM your comfort.

Why do you travails
Forlornly whipping the wind
Here I AM near.

Why do you doubt me,
Casting your belief afar?
Here I AM the truth.

Why do you let go
Of the arm I stretched to you
God won’t let you sink.


I imbibed the muse!
And my heartsongs keep bubbling
Brimming to my lips…

My cup keep being filled
With songs, swelling like wine froth
And running over…

Who will share my songs?
Come hear the throbbing rhythm
And vibes of my heart


Will you follow love?
Though it’s way too blind.

Will you yield to love?
When its wings enfold you.

Will you believe in love?
When it speaks to your heart.

My love only seeks to give
All sparing naught for itself.

My love only seeks to take
Of naught, but of yours.

My love has no other desires,
But to please and be fulfilled.


I am your sworn troubadour
As long as you remain chaste
I’ll be by your side every hour
And to your rescue make haste.

To bear your emblem, mistress,
Is all I crave and live for.
Your fondle and your caress
To polish my shining amour.

I’ll call out the cavalry
If a villain should slight you.
Be sure of my chivalry.
To you, I’m devout and true.

I’ll defend this treasure trove
That I have found in your love.


The things that I strive to garner
Are the things that come and go around
They are things I strive for- money

The things that I like to possess
Are things that are short in supply
They are things I’ll die for- women

The teas that I love to imbibe
Are teas that are in abundance
These teas are black, green lime teas

But this one thing is the primus-
To seek First the kingdom of God
And then all other things will be added.


Love really don’t last
But like ice cream, it’s worthwhile
Especially cold

Love always go cold
But like candle in the wind
Gives light while it lasts

Love is like wind blast
And is as intangible
Blowing where it will

Hard is part of love
Like hard shell covers the nut.
Loving takes cracking


A fine white mist descends on all
Things bright, beautiful, great and small
From crown to soul, blinding us all

Now all is shrouded in mystery
The lesson of three thousand years of history
Did not stop God from cursing that fig tree

The mist was Le Bon Dieu’s machina
But the obfuscating miasma
Is Being blamed on an enigma


Many of your friends are useless
Few are bad, and some redundant.
And the rest are just plain ugly

There are those with bloated dick heads
Whose egos you keep massaging;
as soon as you stop doing that,
they quickly kick your sucker ass
to the curb, and haven done that, kick it some more into the gutter

You’re lucky if you get fork’d up
I got mine kicked over and down a cliff.


I believe heaven’s got a ghetto,
And the streets up yonder place
Are paved with bullions of gold.

But are the streets safe?
Are the children in school?
Is there hospice for destitutes?

Are there no gangs of alley cats
And stray dogs marking out
Territories for trade in drugs?

Are there no outcries of victims
Made objects of target practice?
What cars drive by the hoods, Police?

The silence, is it of the graveyard?
The parks, hangouts for lovers?
The fairs, junkyards for dope heads?

My head is full of QUESTIONS ‘IF-questions’
Questions I want true answers to.
Like if heaven’s streets are ghettos:

IF heaven’s streets ARE safe,
IF heaven’s children ARE in school
IF there IS hospice for destitutes

IF there ARE no gangs of alley cats
And stray dogs marking out
Territories for trade in drugs.

IF there ARE no outcries of victims
Made objects of target practice.
IF AND ONLY IF police cars drive by the hoods.

IF the silence, is not of the graveyard.
IF the parks, ARE hangouts for lovers only.
IF the fairs Aren’t junkyards for dopeheads.

I am swooning and reeling from
A mind soaked with questions of ‘IF’ AND
‘WHETHER Heaven’s got a ghetto AND
‘EITHER, OR’ the streets are pave with true gold


If you want to fight
Go pick on someone your age
I AM just a child

I have not been weaned
I suckle yet on sheer milk
Of human kindness.

I bruise easily
But when my ego get bruised
It heals speedingly

I AM a sucker
But by no means ‘cock-sucker’
I’m not your loser

I want to tango
if you want to tango too
Because it takes two


Fair is a woman’s lips though
And lovely, well-rounded are her thighs,
Although bounteous is the treasure in her throve,
And rapturous, the caress and pleasure of her love

But as secured as knowledge
In the cryptic mind of a poet or sage,
(That villains try to steal, but cannot be stolen)
So is the treasure of her breast that is love-swollen.

For no one drop of sweetness
Ever will be attained from such succulence,
Unless a woman is willing to yield what she wishes
To the lover: that is the one deserving of such bounties.

The woman’s heart therefore must be wooed,
And her thighs gently, gently pried of their good.


A far cry from the road not taken
This is, wadding in the shallows
Gropping and grabbing at mere straws
The kind that breaks a camel’s back

This is where i was coming from
That is before i lost my way
Like that lone saint from iscariot
Who got his tonsure shaved at death

Before peter was made gate keeper
To sit by that pearly gate, out in the cold
With a fools-gold-plated harp for company
I won’t, but Christ trusted him with the keys

The gateman keeps the gate in vain
For the time comes when a man pays
For what sins he has committed
Such sins like denying your friend

For such sins as biting fingers that fed you
For such sins as stabbing your friend in the back
For such sin as taking his cloak and mantle as well
Forgiving a brother seven of seventy times

As for Peter, i have seen honest men
I have heard tell of loyal friends
Who have laid down their lives for their friends
Eye do not lie, so let’s see how Peter Pan out.


I’ve shut the back door
That had taken me nowhere
But to obsession.

Dogged, undaunted,
Goal-oriented, I’m driven,
Burning with passion.

Steadfast to a dream,
And desire to change things.
Am on a mission.

…And so I emerge
From the back to centre-stage
In one transition;

From mediocrity
Into the glare of limelights,
Holding the vision.

I have hung on long
To this one-eyed dream
Without remission.


These two things i do a whole lot

Writing and Drinking droughts of tea
Black tea, Green tea, lime Tea, what? tea

Dipping in a inkpot, sipping from a tea pot
These other things i do a whole damn lot

Mining inspiration from brewing tea,
Creatively, trying to cross my ‘I’ and dot my ‘T’

finding  the shortcut to winning a jackpot
And not aggravating a spilled ink blot

DREAMSCAPE- cantos #1

I will compose poems of my dreams
Dreams of joyous, gurgling streams;
Of the essential of life: priceless water,
Giving away all it’s got yet is not emptied.

I will compose poems of my dreams
Dreams of sprawling gargantuan hills
Of crouching giants lying contentedly
Like a primitive pride of well-fed lions.

I will compose poems of my dreams
Dreams of luscious, green forests;
Of trees, and birds, and beasts in harmony,
Singing serenades of evergreens.

I will compose poems of my dreams
Dreams of grainy, sandy beaches;
Of earth and water and sky’s elements blending
In swirls around my sinking, sun-burnt feet.

I will compose poems of my dreams
Dreams of beauteous, jewell’d nights;
Of emerald moon set against a velvety sky:
Silvery pendant dangling on a chain of stars.

I will compose poems of my dreams
Dreams of unexplored universe,
Of strumming harps and floating clouds,
Deep within my lover’s glittering eyes.


I was very close
To writing a love-song,
But this is a dirge.

I was very close
To winning my heartthrob’s heart,
But I lost the prize.

I was very close
To life’s race finish-line,
But I tripped and fell.

I was very close
To entering paradise,
But the gate clanged shut.

I was very close
To seeing a glorious sunshine,
But clouds enshroud me.

I was very close
To smell the Rose of Sharon,
But the thorns pricked me.

I was very close
To walking in the spring rain,
But hail-stones smote me.

I was very close
To re-inventing the wheel,
But I got thrown back

I was very close
To winning a Nobel Prize,
But lost my genius.

I was very close
To being crowned a radiant king,
But I’m made a serf.

I was very close
To walking down the strait isle,
But I had no bride.

I was very close
To Happy-Ever-After,
But I lost my heart.


The night before this was dark
Yes, all nights are eerily dark
But this one is cheery, with stars
Shimmering like diamond glitters
Le Bon Dieu, this night did a good job

There is a beauteous moon swinging
Like a pearly pendant, hanging
From the neck of a diadem’d diva
And there the milky way like a river
Meandered around the luminous orb

The reddened coal within my breast
Being billowed by the sough from the east
Is bursting into flames of doxology
Though unschooled in logic or ontology
Is founded on abstinence-ethics of Job


I gat a pouch full
Bursting at the seams with seeds
What seeds? Prime wild oats!

I’ll only live once
’tis why i must till this earth
And sow my Wild Oats

While the sun stands still
In the midst of that blue sky
I must do this work…

The same work of him
Who sent me while it’s still day
In this good season…

To till the good earth
And get her ready for seeds
God’s seeds I will sow

The night will soon come
My wild oat must all be sown
While yet it is day.


I hold this fact to be true,
That I have no need to be loved,
This much about me is true
That i’m driven by need to love;

Love is not really what I seek,
I get tons of it everyday;
What I want from life is a peek
Into the gift she brings my way.

I seek The Forbidden Apple.
I look in the boughs of God’s tree,
If the fruit is ripe and supple,
Then will I eat the fruit for free

I have done my bit of being true,
Tending dogma tree bears no fruit.
I have needs to sow wild oats too,
To sow wild oats and eat the fruit.


The love of God Is good faith
The love of wine is good taste
Also café au lait drunken late
But the love of Tea is good art.

Tea is life’s elixir, Refreshing broth
Soothing all pains, cold or hot;
It mends the rip in a broken heart
As well as wounds of a broken head

Of all the bounty of the earth
Tea (any kind) is closest to my heart
It is the food of Gods, so I’ve learnt
To love Tea, above God is great.


Don’t deprive me of food and water
Thinking I will just wither and die.
I am not a glutton
But I don’t wanna go hungry and thirsty either
And if you take that away,
I may just wither and die

Don’t deprive me of drugs and alcohol
Thinking I will get depressed and die
I am not an addict
But I like feeling high and merry that’s all
And if you take that away
I may get depressed and die

Don’t deprive me of love and care
Thinking I will get lonely and die
I am self-sufficient, self-reliant
And if you take that away
I get lonely, depressed and die
Life withers, without love and care


There is a time to be born
There’s purpose to being born

When time and purpose are mixed
And churned in this crucible
Catalysed by existence
Destiny precipitates

Man is a chipped crucible,
The creator is like alchemist,
Who needs a philosopher’s stone?


This happens on every Twenty-Eighth day
When my bleeding pen get its period block
Unless he’s got a literary noose ready.
At these times, a man cannot push his luck,

I cracked my head, ramming it on the wall
I’ve done my damnedest but got no breakthrough
That’s the last of my head, I could use two
So I did recourse to my FACEBOOK WALL.

There were three lone birds sitting on my wall
One was a vulture; the other was a sparrow,
The third bird was hidden by a shadow
The third bird, in a shadow, was an owl.

On my FACEBOOK WALL, all three sat snugly.
The owl and sparrow pecked on what I wrote
But the vulture waited to feed on my rot.
They were The Bad, The Good, and The Ugly

They tweet, shit, and de-face my FACEBOOK WALL
Soon their craps had become one solid block
What would Jesus do, if he was Goodluck?
But to get a sledge and bring down the wall.

Blow-by-blow, I struck to bring down that wall
I could’ve shot all three birds with one arrow
But fear of God pierced me to the marrow
I was like a gnat fucking a jackdaw.

They didn’t just sit there on that crumbling wall
They kept pecking and deepening the hollow
Creating a large hole more than I’ll allow
I should’ve gotten a sling and kill them all

This is my story of a writer’s block
Soon or later we all come to a dead end
This same thing happened to Mr. Goodluck
After he had published ‘’Me And My Friend…’’


His mother love him more than all of life
It is a kinda love that makes me proud
To be born of a wombman, full of life
Please pray in your good heart- and pray out loud

This challenged Little Boy needs your prayer
As he’s being wheeled into ops room this morn
Wish him God’s Health and Speed to recover
Into the loving arms of his Sweet Mom.


Do you know what Dogs think of
a cuddle? It is the same thing bitches think of ice cream- treat!

Do you know what mice think of
a cat? It is the same thing
Husbands think of nagging wives- threat!

Do you know what i need from you? it is the same thing
a new-born needs, a space to breath!


I am the greatest,
I said that even before i knew Mohammed Ali

i am not the brightest star
up there in the dark sky;
i am not atop the mountain so high,
up in the tottering peak…

but no man can beat me
to the best that i can be.
so I can stand up tall,
look you in the face and say,
‘am the best that can be,
the world’s greatest is Me’.

i am not in any way a lion… roaring
little king of a mighty jungle;
i am, most definitely, not a soaring eagle
flying high above the tallest trees…

but no man can beat me
to the best that i can be.
so I can stand up tall,
look you in the face and say,
‘am the best that can be,
the world’s greatest is Me’.

i am not a swift wind
Swirling and is un-calming.
i am, most definitely, not a prince-charming,
riding noble steeds, slaying dragons…

but no man can beat me
to the best that i can be.
so I can stand up tall,
look you in the face and say,
‘am the best that can be,
the world’s greatest is Me’.

i am not the mass of people
tugging at their binding rope.
i am most definitely not a little bit of hope.
i have my own back against a wall…

but no man can beat me
to the best that i can be.
so I can stand up tall,
look you in the face and say,
‘am the best that can be,
the world’s greatest is Me’.


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