Love, she said yes.


Am I dreaming? Wow!
I feel like tears but the sobs won’t come
Now Love said yes and I don’t know what and how to joy
More to it, I’m just waking up from some drool and snores
To the three messages she wired into my Graham’s skull.
My Hello is on the phone, let there be silence;
First it was desperation, now I smell success;
Let me be your Graham Bell as we journey through purpose,
Ours won’t end like the case of Juliet and Romeo.
It’s love’s den. I’m blown away!

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 1833 hours

Show no weaknesses


Triggered by a pain I didn’t know how to feel
After my head had hit the door obeying Newton,
Here I find myself sitting in front of the mirror
So psyched to have found the best way to have my lips glossed.
It doesn’t have to be paint or lipstick,
These two skins can shine without cosmetics;
All I needed to do was to let tears flow in a guffaw
Along with a low descent of mucus from my nose – wow!
A smirk and a smile, it’s a wound that hurts;
It’s so funny how I can joy amidst the cuts;
I’m not thinking of reveling in the oozing of my blood,
I just wonder if any out there can relate to this surge
Deng! And I know there are thousands living this fate,
Whose lives are defined by this pain like a lady’s figure 8;
This reality cuts my heart so deep it makes me want to
Smile hard with hot silver lines descending my chin, evaporating promptly too.

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 2208 hours



For October 1st, Nigerian i

1. Arise oh compatriots!
Our dear Nation calls
in agony, and shame, to duty.
Sixty years are passed
since she gained freedom from the whites.
Uhm uhm uhm uhm
Ha ha ha ha
I smell scorn!

2. Right from independence the elders’
pockets ceased from bitter kola
to be the bottomless pit swallowing
cowries in silent guffaws.
First it was the Abacha’s lot
through till the latest convulsion
from Corona’s cause.
Ha ha ha ha
Shall we laugh it over?

3. Poor masses are vexed and the
need for money is 10Xed,
now the hood don’t carry guns
Robinhood has gone online;
Back to the land whose evil
men taught us to take Beer and
Schnapps in trade for our lands
of cocoa and mineral oil.
Rebo schindaria!
Let’s just speak in tongues!

4. I love my country because
we are the third best
in the world in the sector
of terrorism. Folks be
fighting either for freedom
from political devourcrazy
or from religious idiocies.
One nation is truly bound in
unity as demonstrated by the
killings within families and tribes.
Nemo Quad Dat Non Abet,
Wonder what that even means, smirks!

5. Sixty years of plea-sores
Mother Nigeria is so stoked and happy
to see her children OOIN;
you’re doing well!
Bedridden from cru-oil cancer
her heart is in shatters, looking
like ambience and glisters, as
she beholds the soil her husband
fought for. Shall a woman desire
her children and grandchildren dead,
along with the many toddlers she’s to feed?
Mom’s bleeding internally;
No, it’s her village people?!

6. Oh God of creation!
Hear us as we call!
Nigeria has gone past menopause
Yet we do believe you can make
Sarah birth a son.
From the ruins to who reigns and
through the course of the Palace
to the prison should this plague
be washed!
Starting from the pauper to the
Prince, get us purged!
Why doth exist depression
in our blood-fought freedom?
Àbí ka gbé bódì?

7. To the circle of our
independence, though we
are in dependence to a
democracy that leaves food
crumbs on our tables; to
a government that for the
people taxes the people to
keep the greater percentage
of the lots in the people’s
Elect’s pocket and since
it calls for celebration, I
invite you to join the jubilee.
Welcome to independence;
This is Nigeria.

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 1752 hours

What do I need?


I’m working on the grit of my pen
Tryna strengthen the depth of my poems
My headphones are on as I try to focus my thoughts
Winding philosophy in this new piece of poetic flood
My dreams are vexed and won’t answer to the chants
In my mind since I willed to rant
Yea, the song is on repeat
As I seek to lure inspiration to it’s beats
Maybe that girl I love is the reason for my pain
Or I’m just impatiently driving towards gain
Did I tell you bread and beans is my best
At least, protein get me drool in rest
Okay, I didn’t sin last night
And I didn’t ask for grace to not when it was light
What on earth would be if I stopped from me?
Where should I go from here towards my toiling?
I don’t know what else to write
And I doubt it’s enough to sigh
I am disappointed by orgasms
How that they’re so short-lived
And how should I get used to a pleasure
That leaves my heart in voids?
Maybe I shouldn’t have listened when it was preached
My ears should have been blind to pastor’s speech
Now, that curiosity haunts and I want to stop
I think I need something beyond a purge.

© Denu Vour Bon
Finished GMT+1 1648 hours

Drunken, but not -ols


There’s a drunk man on my road’s end
The guy got drunk from Yée Bùnmi’s shop
He loves bread and beans you know
Especially with egg and plenty òróró
He’s drunk and his breath smells Palm oil
He staggers yet it ain’t for alcohol
A guy got drunk from eating sweet food
Since drunkenness is just a taste of good.

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 1523 hours

Denu’s random thoughts


Your eyes are bloodshot though you don’t drink blood
I wonder how many lives you’ve cut short with your words
You’re the dreamer long lost in search of fame
Who the hell gave you your name?
Day by day it grows, you’re living in fear
Funny how it’s presumed you’re in sheltered care
Denu, you’ve got all it takes, I think
Are you ready to give it, I’m second guessing?
Why are you otherwise the truth on the inside?
You’re so handsome and there’s no show of the scars you hide.
And why do you workout like you can’t do without it
As you seek to really build up your mind and it’s will?
Why punish yourself when fate is so true and can be easily accepted?
Why force into existence the dreams you had just once in a time?
Why give yourself so much pain
When you could have chosen the path of no much drain?
I see your abs building up gradually
It looks like six months have been invested healthfully
Won’t you stop a bit and from journeying in the path of a million arrows through your back?
Do you really love yourself?
Or you just love the hell?

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 2056 hours

A Beauty’s birthday


Come and give me your white set of teeth
I seem to have lost mine to bitter kola
Come and share with me your smile
If it won’t make me for once cry
Blessing and a touch of lustre
Where did you get to add up beauty?
Maybe it’s just my hallucinations wishing
But this is more than I can write in poetry
Sweety dum dum pum pum
Cute and petite via the sights I see
Am I sure your skin is as smooth as this
Or your grace’s hidden under soft dustings?
Poem three on your birthday
These pictures broke the peace of my pen.

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 1416 hours

Princess Blessing Omishakin!


You added a ton of beauty more from the last we saw
And I think you’ve been doing great at your one and only job
It’s so funny, I think, but I’m currently dreaming pretty
Can’t wait to see your husband prostate for us, your kings
It’ll be fine with a dearie of my heart
And I can see she’s doing pretty good her face glowing sunshine
Your smile is a return for diamonds long lost
Your delectability so unscathed I’m glaring…
Where is beauty bought from?
Where do you get lustre immersed unto your skin?
Show me please let me go buy some oil
I’ll pay any price to glow like joy!
All to say a happy birthday
Can’t believe I wrote two poems to your face🙈

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 1234 hours

Sweat and Tears


I’m crying but my tears can’t see me
because they’re mixed with the sweats
from the workout of the evening. Whilst
I’m speaking damn truths to myself in
front of a mirror, the sting from the
pain (resulting from the chemistry
between tears and sweats in my eyes)
distract me.

I sought a towel to reduce the pleasure
so I can focus on the descent of silver
wavies as I teared fucked up truths
into my head like “Denu, can you really
do this? Why desist the path of least
resistance?” My bolts are loose and I
don’t know what to do and yes, it
feels so good.

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 2123 hours

A Letter to Facebook


Dear Facebook,

Teach me to be active once again
To take up the wheels and start posting
To destroy the towers of silence built.
Teach me to motivate with my little influence
That as I build my affluence I drop by to give thanks
That I may take hold of the system again.

I know I lost interest in posting over here
I needed to take the break for my mental health
Several ideas flow through my head
I needed my space to think and reflect
But I guess I’m back
Not as fully or as fiery
But as can be to build the future me.

Here I come again,
I know I’m welcome.
Thanks for recieving me back home.

© Denu Vour Bon



Stimulated by Arielle


To how I wish this girl heard me speak
When I pleaded to be the boy of her dreams


To the kisses I yearned to have tasted
Now, I’m a poet just tongue-twisted


To grief in my heart when it speaks
As I recall escapades of exes and crushes


As I opted for the love I ever wanted
And chose myself over the love I hunted😭

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 0126 hours

Love, can I just be free?


I’m ignoring love in a girl because I’m in love with another
This girl is also pretty but she’s junior to the one I admire
Funny thing is, my emotions are attached to this other lady
Like I can count two, three, ten and more other crushes.
Can I just be free?
Well, we’ll see.

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT +1 0115 hours

Hello Omosefe!


Been calling you oh delectable Princess!
You know, a neophyte in love is obsessed
It’s obvious you’re busy with your one job –
Keeping your beautiful face pretty; it’s so much.
Paralyzed were my words the other day last year
Whereas my cogitations already spoke of my love.
That day last year, my Lady, I desired coming
Out of my shy shell; those love grains remain.
Enough talk on how for your lustre I fell
Or how your smile sends butter and flies in my head;
Omosefe, lately, I have been dialing your phone
To hear you speak and make me dream a thousand years
But I have been dancing to the dialing tone
Humming all along as I hope you pick up tomorrow,
I’m still introverted of owning up this love shit
So I took to writing it’s truths in an open poesy.
Hello Omosefe, love and it fire is burning out
Was thinking you might want to add black coal
Or some gas, maybe.
There’s nothing in a girl’s name
Until she is Omosefe.

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 1044 hours

Before five, I died.


Just before five, I died and it was fun
getting teleported into oblivion when
asked to get my slippers on just around
the corner before I was checked by a
nurse. Nothing to recall, the next days
I find had to report but one thing is
sure and that I know, if I hadn’t died
a toddler no pain on this purpose
journey is accompanied by my death
sentence. If, thence, that’s settled
I heartily welcome fate and destiny.

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 1952 hours

Heaven or hell?


It’s a spooky ride to the top of Everest
An improbable fest, eerie and hammering quest
Why on earth did you choose hell?
Ain’t it fine, the rather, you chose heaven’s path
Yea, that one that leaves you in comfy
As you’re headed to doom and mediocrity?
You demanded more and more comes from Hell!
Take it or leave it!
Hell leads to heaven, by the way,
And a heavenly path is surest to hell.

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 1942

Oh Cherished Moon!


I saw the face of the moon after
months I had missed the smile in
her bed of navy blue. I was wowed
yesternight when I saw she was
happy to see me dance in gratitude
to her shine across my little corner
of the sky. She made me feel
heavenly and with almost a guffaw
I exclaimed within me how psyched
I was to watch her glow.

It’s been a while I observed beauty
as such, when yellows mixed cloud
whites in such radiance that made
the stars laugh. Yesternight’s gaze at
the sky released an euphoria I just
find so hard to describe and I may
be psycho-dramatic but I confess
to have danced as though I entered
my mansion in heaven.

Oh dear Moon, tell me you missed
my stare at your shadowy surface
as you raise my hopes every
night I had held my breath in
awe of beauty and maybe I’m
just hallucinating let my pen
speak still about the beauty of
nature, twilight, midnight and

© Denu Vour Bon

Times when…


Just came back from a party
And I feel empty and blank
I did see faces and friends
I hadn’t for years
Yet wouldn’t this gorge be filled
I feel plain.
I’m trying to gather my emotions
To focus on this moment as my last
To get to work on this path I chose
And with my earphones on,
I’m on airplane mode.
Not sleep, nor the gents,
Not pleasure, nor pain
Not sorrow, nor joy
Don’t know what!

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT +1 1908 hours

A SEAL at life!


Life’s a bed of roses when you’re with the society
“They” will always find you a place of stay
But try make a difference and it’s a choice
With the society out, you face your lot.
It’s fate; destined to ruin you,
Programmed to make you quit your dreams
And settle for mediocrity
It comes, at times, eerie
Some other times, stormy
At the end, you chicken out
Or thrive.

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 2157 hours



Let’s speak truth when it needs
be heard, since we don’t want
fakes but love from the sincerity of a
heart. Maybe we don’t have
the time to help each other and
friendship forever we keep ranting that
we are. Perhaps we need a
New definition different from the
norm society had nurtured in us yet
this cliché stands strong
‘A friend in need, is a friend
in deed,’ and it’s funny that lot
of acquaintances and besties
wouldn’t fit in properly to that.
I’m just a man obsessed with
dreams and poetry – my philosophy,
and it hurts so much!
Gidi Gan!

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 1938 hours



Let me smile when this nigga is talking nonsense in my ears
And raise my middle finger as if it was resting on my head
Or show my teeth and curse bitterly under my lips
To ease me getting abused emotionally.
Yes, I am right by holding up my ego
And I’m stuck that my perspective is lego.
It only builds resentment
And it’s a perfect waste of the present.
“I am sorry” works like magic,
And the taking away of face.

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 1943 hours



It’s been a while I wrote a poem
Couldn’t get inspiration and my pen set
With the fire burning and I yelling
I may just write lines up to eternity
Usually I try to be polite with my poesies
Tonight I doubt my words will be free from cussing
Bin tryna take the pain away
But I ain’t gon do that shit again.
We all bin striving do one thing or the other
We bin call ourselves survivals
We bin trend in our locality
But a bullshit looms still.
Why friends so called don’t support the vision
But bin rant shits and shouts down your mission
You bin set the goal you dream of
Tryna do your imperfect shit “ya irresponsible as fuck”
What the fuck we saying all over here?
Person bin pained of the shits he get
Why strangers support more than friends
Yet the society taught ‘A stranger ain’t no friend’
Where are the friends who promised to stand with us strong
Who keep posting about the success of folks as Zucks?
Eduardo was his bestie you know such shit?
Don’t know why none of those shits happen anymore.
Perhaps they do, perhaps they don’t.
Perhaps the writer is just pained and tries
To express his sincere heart, you know?

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 1930 hours



One is leaving the teens
Another is just entering
Both are still teenagers
And are family members
One is busy hustling
Another is busy dancing
Yet are they classes the same
By a society insane
One is just at puberty
Another is accepting responsibilities
The two are siblings.

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 2114 hours

Did he drink again?


Three missed calls on a Thursday morning
He shouted and cursed already again
He stormed out of the house in rage
And asked to swear if he truly was the father
At night a recap of the morning’s duel
Some more nights skipped etceteras
He’s not been eating at home
The car’s bumper is dented et all,
Did he drink again?

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 1828 hours

What is love?


A broken bottle for love was run deep into my crown
and he stood there looking at the unfolding.
Evidently he really was in love with me
because he came to rescue her from off my grips
as I teed to cut short her life with the bloodstained
piece of broken bottle she had used on me.
And my love called it a home accident
pictured to be some tile-slipping and falling
when asked of my parents about the scar
and this was ever we were married.
Lol! We were married seven days after
with my face all tied up in plasters.
Well, it was all for love the beatings after marriage
and every other person preached endurance
that a wife should submit to the husband;
by so doing, it was to work.
Kids stuck looking like their father
though girls, I almost see no semblance from
I, their mother, and my love still embraces
the thought that another’s semen fertilised
my egg and curses bitterly (anytime he does) himself
and not me. This was the life I chose.
Lo! I own this.
At times I ponder over the times mom and dad
kicked against the idea of coupling up with the nigger
but love, they say, is blind and I fell for hope.
It’s been five years of torture yet grace,
I’m still alive, that’s something great.
What is love?

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 1657 hours

No excuses.


Beautiful words are great and truthful too
Here’s a poet who finds it hard to weave words
That are new in his pieces of poetry
And for the first time, I think, I believe
I’ve been using the same words over again.
Lol! It’s fun and it’s funny and I’ll write still.
Shouldn’t stop, I can’t stop.

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 1640

Weed Kills! But, it doesn’t.


Hey, stop sniffing on brown sugar;
Don’t get your nose dented
Neither try to get high;
Why put your life fast on death’s track?
Weed Kills! But, it doesn’t.
It’s just a mix of tobacco,
And some touch of dope;
Man shouldn’t ever be on a low.
And it’s medically proven to be so;
Weed doesn’t kill, it’s used in drugs though.
Oh, great! You need some more education,
That pleasure and pain are deceitful,
And a session at Room 9 alters brain activity.
And no, being high causes no damages to the body;
Lungs still intact and spirits all psyched
Just some little distraction from the present,
And a little more time needed before logic-activity
As senselessness is birth of hay wrappings
Since the smoker is rendered less-conscious.
And it’s a proven fact too,
The lesser you’re aware, the farther, success,
And grit and dirt and hay and weed
Do no good than retard a dreamer in his dream-chasing
But school doesn’t teach this, nor society too.
Weed kills the dreamer’s dream-chasings but
Weed doesn’t actually kill physically,
Though it eventually could result in suicide.
Weed, and depression, kills!

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 1625 hours

No one’s coming


Get up bro, stop being broke, no one’s coming
Cause everyone is busy fighting on their own
Get up bro, stop being broke, no one’s coming
You are the only saviour left for your broke soul!

It’s looks so funny,
How you expect everyone to care and carter for the shits you’ve hewn up
It’s so funny,
You’re sited in comfy praying and expecting.
Stop sulking!
No one is coming!

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT +1 1051 hours

Why we smoke!


I did a study at Room 9
As I tried to uncover the secrets of getting high
Orgasms from the movement of smoke up a capillary foam
And what pleasure it was sniffing weed and tobacco.
I went deep into research
And rehearsed every single word I came about
The line blurb on the cigarette pack I remember closely
“Smokers are liable to die young”; you go high at your life’s risk.
Then I sat and considered
Life has being all about risks and do or die affairs
And while the slim stick was a shortcut to death
I still couldn’t decode the depths of being high above Earth.
At Room 9, as I studied
In the early hours, via candlelights, of the morning
I concluded it was foolish to go high on a stick’s smoke
But man always wants to stay woke,
Why we smoke!

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 0036 hours



Four moons ago, I was writing under the moonlight
broke and planning how that the moons after
I will be at a million dollars. Four moons
later, I’m still broke working at my dreams as
tirelessly as can be.
Four moons ago I was psyched up and just
knew I could achieve anything and while four
moons are passed now I still
find it hard to comprehend that I’m so dogged
at my dream-chasing.
Four moons ago, and I meant full moons
though, I wondered how the moon survived
amidst thick clouds in the sky and four moons
later, today, I’m staring at her as she smiles back
on my toil here in Earth.
Four moons ago, as I stared at the stars
trying to understand seasons and times while
pondering over astrology, I swore to myself I won’t
ever give up and after four full moons I
am still holding on.
Four moons ago, I danced to my beats outside
alone, calling in every element of the universe
and God to fulfill the desire I drown in,
four full moons later I’m happy to say it;
I’m not a slave to time.

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 2220 Hours

Hyenas in my prideland


Hyenas in my prideland
Okay, what do I do?
I feel like a Lion but I’m a cub
And I can’t roar yet too.
Did build up the value, the system, the scheme;
Now with all set and green hyenas came to eat
Amma be me on this path
Amma be me as I travel
Amma be me full of hearts
Amma be me as I act too!
Hyenas leave!

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 1617 hours

Lamentations about my Crush


Five girls are blushing all over me
Some other four dance in their heads while I speak,
so I see.
Three girls dare not look me in the eye
For fear that I’ll catch them lost in Wonderland.
Two girls I know are submissive to my will
And it’s written all over to their faces that they like me
But the one girl I like
I doubt she knows I exist!
Weird world.

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 0045 hours

Just tears


Just tears when you’re broke, not poor
Just tears when you have debts you owe
Just tears when you lose the money in your trust
Just tears as you cry over your loss.
Just tears, you’ve got no one coming
Just tears, there’s no saviour ahead
Just tears, in the battlefield of life
Just tears, should you commit suicide?
Just tears, no you can’t lose your life
Because your plans ain’t working out
Just tears, this should you understand
Prepare for the best and accept every odd.
Move on!

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 2050 hours

Two fools


I recommend you read the poem at least twice so you can benefit from it.

Two fools took to the road
in search of wisdom as of old;
one fool was wise for he understood silence
and the other fool was wise and vast in science.
In the wilderness of Knowledge they toiled
bewildered by the display of depths;
the first fool saw but kept shut while
the other fool ranted all along
how this looked like that and
that like the other thing he read
in big books. Pardon me as I write,
but these men were foolish.

The two fools continued their toil
and got to the hut of the Wise One
who by wisdom had seen had seen all ages and
were greeted differently after the
manner I record.
The first fool was greeted thus:
“Oh wise one, tell of your
discoveries as you journeyed
through the wilderness of Knowledge.”
The first fool was dumb and
he could speak. The second fool was
shown a path he should tread by a
friendly looking man and he spent
the evening telling stories.

Two fools went on a journey
and never found understanding as they searched
because the wisdom of the first
fool was his foolishness and he
wouldn’t reply the goddess
of Wisdom when she greeted. The second
was almost the same for his
talkativeness was the infirmity that
hindered him from an intercourse with
Wisdom. The two fools took the
path back home and in their wisdom
concluded that Wisdom was foolish; for this
they were crowned Princes.
Wisdom scorns these.

GMT+1 0951 hours
Denu Vour Bon

Smiling blood


There’s a smile that’s more sorrowful than the tears you cry
Tis a product of the heaviness and weariness of a heart that’s gone beyond broken
Folded eyes, smirks and short spanned laughers and you’ll know what I’m saying
When at the end of the day you’re back to your coven and you’re left alone.
The cuts may not be deep but you’ll love the play with blood
And while it’s harmful you’ll smile all along
Smiles that glister with the silent descent of tears
As you die one and a thousand years.
So there’s a smile that’s sorrowful than the tears you cry
It’s heartbreaking that this smile comes from I who comfort your cries.

GMT+1 1803 hours
Denu Vour Bon

Can’t say


My willpower is weak as I write this piece of poetry
I have my dreams looking at me like “Denu can you still see?”
I’m evidently trying new things most especially
Moving outta my comfort zone to live my ideals
I have called on my dad and Abba also ain’t picking up
Now I wish silvery lines will, o’er my face, descend soft
I’m actually crying but my tears won’t see me
Hiding beneath my thick skin of melanin
And the cut of my heart is so deep
It’s an understatement to say words can’t describe how I feel
I’m not depressed, not overwhelmed. I ain’t broken.
I’m just the altered version of blank but cloudy.

GMT +1 1745 hours
Denu Vour Bon

Sing me to sleep


My head is blank as the oyster shell
Even though beauties of glories exist in its physicality
I try to write new words unfortunately
I dwell in a merry-go-round of my own clichés
Easy, I think, it is to be a viral beast
Or something  having to attain to the radiance of Beauty
Very well then I need some time off caffeine
Otherwise to say I’m drunken emotionally
Just sing me to sleep.

GMT +1 1728 hours
Denu Vour Bon

Three Orgasms


The breeze blew slightly
and the only noise came from
the rumbling of speedboat engines fleeting the distance.
A new experience got my shoes off
and feet buried under the finest sand I’ve seen,
tasted and felt. Crushing the crumbs of
finely cut sandstones in my mouth, my feet
made love underground. The sand was warm
by the shore of the river and there
under the sun in a bright blue white
sky and the cloud boughs moving to romance music,
I went to room 9.
Orgasm 1.

Feelings of Johnny just come
on a Island near the Atlantic
seeing ripples and foam afar
with a grin that won’t pass out.
The taste, smell and feel from the last
dose of emotional high
was still my euphoria as the pleasure
stepped a gear up – “it was “work.”
About ten metres away from the shoreline
and fighting the temptation to jump
into the thrust of waves; an oyster
shell, I came.
Orgasm 2.

After the pressure from
a day long pleasure and being caught
in traffic – almost a mayhem,
got me ready for overwhelm.
Killing away pain via ols
and caffeine for good quick sleep afterwards,
I visited my temple of thoughts
– the toilet, and met with the seductress.
She descended from the top of my head
and licked till the tip of my neck.
On a psyched high I was as the
verticals from her lips descended still.
A strain of back from me met her sweet
touch at 90 degrees and she hit that point
at my back my hands can not.
I shook and fell in my head.
Orgasm 3.

© Denu Vour Bon

New Resolution


I haven’t been me,
And it pains,
It shames my face
The discovery that the ideal I perceive of me I have made to lie in space.
So when?
When shall I live who I want to be?
When shall I live who I want to be if I continue to grope a future I cannot hold?
When will I be me?
I speak peace usually
I become absorbed in my thoughts of my ideals
And now doth time fly past me
And with it the ideas I fail from executing.
So today I take a vow
“Oh let me behold this moment like I was to be destroyed the next!
Oh let me work now without wishes and dreams!
The night comes with fantasies enough!
My mind is altered!”

© Denu Vour Bon



As I sit to write about me in a piece of poetry
I feel tensed to present me perfectly
About a year ago I wrote in depression
As I truly sought out for my definition
I have hit the highs and the lows
Made friends of enemies, enemies of friends
I have met also with faces ‘I can’t tell’
As I journeyed from then to worse through hell
Still more I think I know myself
I have come to know me well
Things like ‘I hurt myself when I masturbate’
Further down are the pains when I procrastinate
I am a sinner, not saved, not lost
Funny, I ain’t striving in the middle at all
More like I am a pilgrim at war
Will you be satisfied by the definitions I recall?
You need a definition, don’t you?
Or you concluded I was just like you?
You try to compare me in disguise for love
Deep down, I smirk to my hurt
I am a little bit weird, don’t you think
Or should I make myself flowery?
If you ask to know who I am
Why do you expect a reply from the norm?
I am the voice of one haunted with dreams
Desires, not hopes, inspiyes background
You society guys are disturbing me
Can’t I be free?
I may pretend in our chats on WhatsApp
But can I this once be frank?
I’ve given too much shits out already
Sorry, I’m pissed from writing

© Denu Vour Bon

Sad Love Song


With The Potters

I got the best way of showin’ my emotion
It’s liquid, poisonous, magical like a potion.
You got me dip, left me wild open
Castrate my heart, – joy and nothing to  copin’

I fought the beast, the bones between us
With dry spirit, my heart is hoarse
I guess my feelings are crinkled
Neither life nor death seems so simple

Now as I recall the memories of distress
The years I spent with her being ignited
The days I thought she’ll accept my proposal
Because we were always together in laughter

I guess this sounds like another sad love song
Strong, but wrong to sing along.
Can I get the world to come together?
Maybe that’ll make me feel just better

Silently, wistfully, hopefully assuming
Things would eventually boomerang to me
She’ll come back sometime and become mine
That I am saying through the passage of time.

Now the planet left in your heart
has soared off in a night without light.
regretfully – planet won’t come back again
But the sad love song, my life puts in reply. 

© The Potters
© Denu Vour Bon



With The Potters

how I became a father,
married my pains, nursed it
tenderly, till death. 

I’ll show you the cries of fears when I thought I’ll loose my mind
I’ll show you me withal the storm as i wondered why
I’ll show you the times I paced when I did have no courage to tell of my ideas
I’ll show you how I laid on a couch in my parent’s room and parlor with a point seventy-eight in my account
I’ll show you when I laughed like I didn’t care
I’ll show you when I smiled like I never shed a tear
I’ll show you the time when my eyes wouldn’t cover my pain
Wonderful times I had nothing to gain.

Look deeply in my eyes
a castrated heart
Dip me in within your sight
You’ll see how
I became a father
I married my pains, nursed my scars
concealed an ocean of tears
flowing down to my cheeks
Look at me-
it flows with pain, anguish, destress and
Pest. Salty! I wandered why
I couldn’t have it enough.
Look at me
an art of old grave!

© The Potters

© Denu Vour Bon

We need each other


Another kernel in nature is been mistreated
You’ll see me in the streets, in the yard, everywhere
And gradually I fade away.
I’m cut in twain, rent into pieces
Left to degrade when I’d deface
Mother nature who brought me forth.

My mother is annoyed with me
And like all mothers, she will to spank me
She’s warned and cautioned that I stopped from being the litter of the streets
And desist from being an obstacle to the growth of my younger siblings
My plea to my masters have fallen on deaf ears.

I have polluted, rather I took the blame of the sin, my mother’s bosom,
My masters have failed to repair.
Mom is driving me to depression,
I just might commit suicide.
I’m plastic, stop polluting me; we need each other.

An Extension of Failed Love


With Dannyz

It wasn’t in her eyes,
No I didn’t see it,
Neither on her face
Or I would have to sensed it
I just assumed.
No, she didn’t love me.

Heart so tender;
Lips so soft;
Voice so gentle;
Looks innocently wrapped up with beauty;
Got me wondering what got my heart-broken.
No sooner did I know
‘Twas me crashing against my illusion.
Thought I knew you,
But I own you not;
Indebted to you
But you owe me not.

© Denu Vour Bon
© Dannyz

How do you tear?


How I wish I had tears and could cry
You said silver lines lay over your chin when you smile
How do you do that?
How do you smile with tears so hard?
How come you don’t seem to care
Even when your eyes show you fear?
Why do you rejoice when you’re unjoyed?
The questions keep coming, why?
If tears were pillows made of glass
Yours would still soak them up
Whether you laugh or you cry
Now, I’m lost in awe!

Skeleton along desert road


Hurting and panting
the soldiers pursued on
after the armies from the North
who had invaded their town
in their absence, carried wives captives,
sons as slaves and a wealth of the animals.
The Commander had been
pushed to the wall of ivory coasts
and he is left with death or victory.

With sweats and mumblings uttered
the soldiers despites for His lordship,
the enemy armies. Frustration beads rolled
down the two oranges out of his
chest, you know he works out,
signifying fear of the day of death
how it was a moment too close from now.

Meanwhile happily drunken in
superfluous merrymaking, the
armies of the North neglected a gem
of a servant who grew weak and tired
from journeying on foot three days
without food. Nuffy was that master
who left the Arabian, you know
he did the right thing – Arabs should
be left to die since they’re heartless.

With bones out and no
life wasn’t breathing through his nostrils
he was met by the hungry team
of David, the Commander on
a silent sentence to death by his
own army. Two fools, as
perceived, met at the junction of
desperation – one was losing his life,
the other will definitely do sometime
soon. The commandos sulked at
the idea – no time to waste dead one.
Death or death, choose one.

Shall recovery of lost destinies
glories and other ies there is be achieved
by a dry bone left to decay along the desert
road? Maybe David wasn’t right to have stopped
seeing he had a whole family to
save from the armies of the North.
Again, one was perceived useless
and dying to a particular system
whereas was the best option for
use in another norm and the world isn’t weird?
What else do you see?



Falling is the word that depicts the evening
Saturated in my thoughts on every girl
Who do I date or shall I dare to tell
Tamanna or the ibo girl that I love her?
Wishes were wolves they devoured my spirit
Crushed me to the corner of the room I sleep
Girls so beautiful are the sights on the streets
A question for the night: where is my Eve?
Oh Tamanna! Oh Tamanna!
Beautiful Indian woman.
Oh Tamanna, come home.

A toast to 2020


Let’s say 2020 never happened
And you didn’t have to use the mask
Let’s say a decade hadn’t strike
And life had been your usual acts
Okay, let’s say 2020 didn’t hijack
From you the love of your life
Let’s say a year never came
When you get detached from a heart.
So what will be the case?
You’ll be weak, maybe you still are
Maybe you haven’t understood
You alone toil this world
Maybe you still rely on someone
Or a system for your well-being
Maybe you’re still a baby
That needs a sitter.
2020 taught us that we are alone
And all men strive alone
And that no one is coming
To ease our woes soon!
A toast to the great 2020!



I saw a pained man on fire
   or why would smoke effervesce from off his skin?
He had a burning stick in hand
   and I confess he was just as lean, you know – thin.
With his face covered in the dark
   he burned from within so great I felt it
He wasn’t pained though, but
   facing the realities of his fate tore him
And I swear, I saw silver lines
   fixed to his face, connecting his jaw to eyes via his chin
Again he held tight unto a bottle
   and occasionally he gulped a drunken sip with a hiss
Okay, let’s say he sat on the pavement
   you know he stumbled into the gutter, don’t you?
Through the windowpanes
   as I observed his travail across the streets
He mumbled words like chants
   beh beh lo dah ro no and something like go
Perhaps he was mourning
   the death of a love he long lost, I don’t know.
Ayomilekan his name was called
   as he reached out to another bottle of schnapps
He’s a wonderful human
   and he just haven’t found his place of stay.
Maybe he’ll be fine.
Maybe not.

Say Amen!


I speak peace to myself in this season
When prophecies are gone abroad
I take hold of my life’s driving wheels
To become a threat to the storm.

It’s a mouth of faith backed with grace
Hands on my head as I pray
With eyes tightly closed in worship
I declare my dreams fulfilled.

Say Amen as I take hold of the mountains
Say Amen when I shake the seas
Say Amen, the journey to the valleys and plains
Say Amen as I act on self prophecy!

Silent War


Soft as the petal’s touch
Mild and temperate as the calm after a storm
Have you seen the voice of the man of God?
Exaggerated! Have you heard him storm?
Folks have been all around with boasts
And a silent man is in the forests in groans
Revival is the smell nothing less
We will dominate and with our voice bless.
I am the finger of God
A new generational warrior!
Thanks for recruiting me Lord,
This is a war of bloods with a soft voice!

The true definition of beauty 2


Beauty lies not in the tenderness of faces,
Nor in the gracefulness of actions.
Beauty is not worn on the shades of a skin;
Beauty is the sincerity of a smile.

So smile if it is good or it is bad;
Smile when it is easy and hard;
Smile when you hit gold and gravel;
Smile, because it makes me smile too.


Sweat Happiness!


Can you pour happiness like I pour my sweat?
Can you stop your frets and dance your fears all away?
Can you be the idiot of the moment and desist from being self-conscious?
Can you jump for joy, even when there is no reason to, as you walk along the streets?
Happiness is never free but a choice you make every minute.
Depression is never a predicament but the fruit of a soul’s idleness.
Fill up the space and flex your muscles for happiness’ sake.
At the end of the day, you’re living life as happy as gay.

The Words of A Drunk Heaven’s Guy


I thought I might just need a smoke.
No, not the kwashiorkor stricken stick of cigar
Nor the herbivorous character of the weed,
Neither the mixture of ozone in Shisha’s tube;
Aren’t there other ways to hit the heavenlies?
Deluded I have been called since I believed not in any norm;
Society think of me to be another rebel deserving bars:
“Shut him up! He speaks foolishly,”
And my drunken self thinks “Dear Suicide…”
Stealing away from the worries of today,
The smoke became my place of stay;
This drunk fool is depressed and they see the nigga smile,
Pity how alone I discover I am.
Do you have something different for me?

Toilet rant


No, I can’t feel my legs.
I’m sitted at the WC
Waiting for this shit, you know.
I’m patiently waiting
So when will I stand to go?
I’m locked unto the screens
Buried in my phone
And while my legs are passing out
I sit still on this toilet bowl.
A pee, a wee, and a gas
Still the rod won’t come out!
I type, I chat, on WhatsApp
It’s been two hours.
Now, I can’t feel my legs!
I’m in Sifia pains.

The ironic balance


My eyes are filled with tears
You only see the stares
You wonder how long I could gaze
Till a silver line would descend my face
You wait!
You stare as I gaze
You wait!
You stare at my face.
The tears crescendos
And with your magnifying glasses you still don’t know
That your words cut deeper than the kiss of a foe
I have committed suicide and you see me living life
Walking dead in my heart, errands boy in your sight!
You know more than me?
You know what’s best for me?
You know me more than me?
A wise man is drunk!
A wise man knows more than the owner of his life!
A wise man knows best to direct my path,
With alcohol in his hands!
Cold-blooded, can I die?
If a man will dance and be brought up from the gutter
Knows best to think about life than one who’s younger
If an idiot being mocked revere himself as a seer
I wonder what kind of future he has as a father!

Humorous agonies!!!


Am I turned down in this shit called life
When fate tells me it holds the keys of my destiny?
Am I lost and simply meant to be forgotten
Amidst the millions of folks in this anthill?
I wonder how God feels when he looks over here
And finds that one man had produced eight billion,
Doesn’t He sometimes get frustrated
As He traces the path of an ant and a billion others?
Well, I’m just trying to write a poem
As I find my path in this space called Earth.
My head is blank.
Ha ha ha ha ha!

Is there grace left for, of me?


Jesus, here I am in my deep of deeps
With a plan in hand a vision in mind that I will to reach
I’ve sinned again like I did the other time I prayed
It hurts to know that I fucked this up all over again
And it hurts the more when I reflect and see I was aware
Aware that this shit I ventured into was fire to my hay
With my garments stained and a bleeding heart
Call I on Thee just before the morning lights
Is there grace left for me?
Left of me?
I know you love me regardless
Will you cleanse my mess?
I’m crying hard but my face is bland outside
Folks think I’m fine when I write nice
I’m just eighteen, days to nineteen
Drowning in this guilt of sin
All I wanted was money and to impact lives
I didn’t plan to sign up for the ruining of my life
Here with this crucifix buried in the hands of my heart
And every part of my being in awe as I ask
Dear Son of my Father, forgive me
I’m tired of promising not to sin, cleanse me clean
Freed from sin at my roots
Jesus, I call on You.

Learning and Success.


I’m cutting myself with deep slashes of the knife
And I ain’t shedding blood so you can notice
I’m being deducted from my previous reality
As I crave for a new life, a bliss.
The beliefs I previously held as in a cult
I find me dropping off like cactus
Once I thought it nice to be in touch
Now have I need to be in the den of thoughts.
I’m cutting, still cutting, as I shed the pain away
And because it’s mindset, I set myself in my future
To feel and to think the way I dream to be
Greatness, it’s said, is to hold my dream a reality as in my future.

Clash and the process


I am fighting a war with the bones of my blood
It’s a battle between what’s normal and odd
I’m trying to create a future that’s secured
Yet “this is not me,” my soul calls!
It’s a fight against my nature, “Whom I was”
As I endeavour to create a me I dream to become
It’s the race to the mountain where the witch resides
As I attract to myself forces and faith for the fight.



Let’s pray for peace as we pick up pieces
Let’s grow in grace as we get over grieves
Let’s stop to sigh when we stand as the stars
In time we’ll tell the tale of how we thrived.
I promise.
© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 2107 hours

“pray for peace” to mean hope
“grow in grace” to mean gratitude, meditation, and comeliness
“stop to sigh” to mean standing in awe




1. I know i’m right,
I admit to being wrong;
Not to toss out my birthright,
But to feel what it is to be strong.

We could have lost us,
So i slaughtered my pride,
I’m bleeding ofcourse;
But each drop is worth the ride.

You are not at fault,
But neither am I,
Yet I debited my ego vault;
To refuel you and I.

I have chosen us over my pride,
Paying the fare for us to run,
Kicking obstacles aside,
Yes,I lost but won.

2. Yes, I lost but won,
The irony of this life
For your love I’m torn
Though you see me smile

And you ain’t at fault
I decided this path to ply
I’m building a cult
I’ll do all to make you mine

Each time your words cut
Me deep down my spine
Yet I kept my mouth shut
And won’t utter my spites

I know I’m right
But maybe I’m wrong
I don’t want it to be night
Between us, I stay strong.

© Denu Vour Bon



She’s out of breath,
I’m near orgasm
And I can’t stop.

It can be traced to my past
When I just could say ‘tah’;
My big sister bathed me,
And washed me clean.
I noted she took care
When she got down my ‘totolo’,
And little me, excited,
Would laugh off a groan ‘ohh’.

She’s out of breath
I’m near orgasm,
And I can’t stop.

Unto six I had grown,
“Little kid, what does he know?”
I would sit in aunty’s room
As she undid her breasts’ hooks.
She’ll smile, “close your eyes”
As I hid my face in her bed
To only wake up when
It was time for food, then bed.

She’s out of breath
I’m near orgasm,
And I can’t stop.

Puberty at eleven
With it came curiosity.
My friend told me of Facebook
“How does it look?”
I sneaked aunty’s phone,
And gathered a following
On this internet world, and
Found answers to everything.

She’s out of breath
I’m near orgasm,
And I can’t stop.

When I was thirteen,
Uncle came visiting.
I pleaded and begged
That he released his cell.
I browsed and was tired,
And since he was still busy,
I decided it was time
I surfed through his gallery.

She’s out of breath
I’m near orgasm,
And I can’t stop.

Two years after uncle came
I wasn’t anymore the same,
My friends had told of a site
That had pictures of girls in tights.
Lo! I wanted to explore,
And I needed no disturbance
To my room I went and I saw
A video like the one on uncle’s gadget.

She’s out of breath
I’m near orgasm,
And I can’t stop.

“Pornography is a sin”
The man of God preached.
I cried and begged for a new salvation
But the new word rung in me – masturbation.
Six months of religiosity
Did nothing about the urge,
And for curiosity I surfed
And succumbed to jerking off pressures.

She’s out of breath
I’m near orgasm,
And I can’t stop.

At eighteen, I’m struggling,
Trying to stop from being hypocritic;
Wrote down my resolutions,
And was determined sore
That nothing would draw me back
To this pain I have found.
The change was a process tough,
And I trusted to be sound.

She’s out of breath
I’m near orgasm,
And I can’t stop.

At twenty, I began to fear
And drifted to being horny as hare.
Also, I noticed now,
That girls wore shutdowns.
New pressures built up
Matched up with my past.
I frequented porn hubs,
And soon needed a blast.

She’s out of breath
I’m near orgasm,
And I can’t stop.

‘Soapy’ yet unsatisfied,
This beast just came alive.
Obeying my new lord,
I was a fool for the urge.
And no, she didn’t seduce me,
She’s a girl of twelve,
She only became a victim
To my long unsolved problem.

Now, she’s passing out,
I’m just about to cum,
The blood oozes everywhere;
I broke her most sacred spot.
She’s my first,
And I’m filled with this zest.
Please I’m human too,
Already I’m torn in two.

She’s out of breath
I’m near orgasm,
And I, alone, can’t stop me.

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT +1 2239 hours



My intention, as I write,
Is to talk to her mind;
She’s clouded by sights
And do not notice my plights.
Success stories I have read,
Dreamchasers movies, watched;
I have seen and concluded,
Success is by her tender touch.
I have looked around,
Weighing with the scale,
The beauties that surround;
I am confused as beaten clay.
You are there at your corner
Unbeknownst of my soul cry.
Perhaps you hear my prayer
As you search through Dreamland.
Oh Universe, stop the stress,
Connect me to Eve this year
That she may be part of this;
Let her join in my travailing.
So Eve, where are you?
Your Adam is lone, counting sheep.
Woman, where are you?
Your Adam is frail, needing peace.
This shouldn’t be read away
Or the intention would die,
Share throughout channels
Until it makes my Eve smile.
For I have tried to put her away
But my mind wouldn’t let me be,
Her precious soul speak alway
In the den of my dreams.
Again, where are you
Oh Woman of my dreams?
Friend she may be near you,
Share hence until she reads.

© GMT +1 0541 hours
Denu Vour Bon

I Wish I had not come in this Flesh


With Marve Snr.

1. Here are my dreams, the hope I once saw
The glories of the yesteryear I smell
Where was “they” when I was small
Now I have to face a reality I detest
I wish I had not come in this flesh

The struggle is much, consider my flaws
“Change your attitude” they yelled
I wanted the fantasies “let me jump”
Their hold’s, my doom, so strong that I fell
I wish I had not come in this flesh

I wish I had not come in this flesh
To witness the agony of realism
I wish I had not come in this flesh
To suffer from the drench of sin
I wish I had not come in this flesh
Let mercy, I pray, be near
I wish I had not come in this flesh
Be gone, from me, their cares

2. I couldn’t hold back this Fret,
I have been brutally bruised,
I have cursed myself a number of times,
I have cried and couldn’t help myself,
Have lost my grip, my hold,
Is this what everyone also experience?
What do I stand to gain?
But why do I give in so easily,
Anytime, anyday, even after have sworn never to do those acts Again,
Can my Soul just come out of this Flesh?
In my innocency I got addicted,
I couldn’t let go of my grip on Sin!
I am finished, I am done!
I don’t want my voice to be heard again!
Don’t pity me, if only I could peel off this Flesh,
Am out of Sight, look for me no more!
I need a saving grace that will hold my Spirit and Soul.
I found Redemption at last!
I wished I had not come in this Flesh

Cycling. Glued.


I am glued to the holds of the cycle
Riding away from this curfew
Let me be myself each moment
Freed from the society’s nest
I’m a runner so I run to be alive
Afraid of being caught up by these phase
Head phones on and I run
Nonstop, this time, to the top
Peace I pray on this journey
Paths I created to take
I own me is the statement of dominion
As I take over the streets and the world
Peace I pray for me