Now I’m holding my pen, please what should I write?

Yea, I’m scribbling down some ink, the flow ain’t right.

You might be wondering what I want to write about,

And you might be very disappointed when you find out.

Now I’m thinking and knowledge seems to fail me!

Yea, too much reading makes the human being crazy;

But does that mean I wouldn’t be able to make a composition?

And that my new lines would fall out of your taste and consumption?

Now I’m staring at the blank sheet on the table,

Yea, I’m writing on it the real thoughts I have and not fables

And you won’t get the meaning I impress

‘Cause the whole write-up seem to be nonsense.

Now I’m trying to satisfy your demands,

Trying hard to follow all the principles and guidelines;

It’s really hard you know, especially when there’s nothing in the head

And you’re writing, not being idle, ’cause sleep has got out of your bed!

Now I’m wondering why the Egyptians started hieroglyphics,

Why on Earth were they so wicked, discovering letters and other theories?

And those Greek scholars coming into the system and making it all worse

With education bringing the collations of such heavy burdens on us.

Now I’m thinking that you’re thinking, or probably trying to decipher,

That what nonsense is he speaking with his words on this writing area?

Well you could go back to the very beginning,

I’m just lamenting, actually, “of,” “for,” and “on” nothing!!!




It’s all bigotry,

What’s the use?

Moving throughout the county;

You’ve got to see the fuse.

Intolerant beings!

Workers for their stomachs!

The masses’ regarded as dead things

So we ain’t one of their aches.

We from the same country

Imbibed the white’s democracy

To make things better we say,

Now let’s measure our today.

Words without end!

Leaders without the trend!

We continue to wallow in nothing

And soon would we be a poverty!

A way out there is,

Let’s start from each family

And remove corruption with ease

From the child before he grows big and heady.

Let’s come as one

All tribes in a bond.

Wait! A family we came from,

Let’s integrate and love without cond.



It’s been awhile

Since we spoke and heard from each other

And to be sincere with you guys

I’ve missed the whole lot of our saggas.

Let’s start from you;

You are one important part in us.

Yea, those time in school

You took your time to frame us.

Don’t mind me,

I suddenly feel I’m nothing to you

But still, I’m me

And that matters to you.

You know what, it’s been two years

That I’ve literally being without friends

And I have missed you sincerely

That I don’t know how to express it.

All of us, let’s be sincere

You have missed at least one of us in some areas of your life somewhere,

But we are brought together by technology advancement

Thus it is fulfilled in us the saying that we are in a global world, hence

I say to you, dear you

That you occupy a special place in my heart, which I can surely prove…




Silhouettes get their paths lightened
Each time I surface.
I am the personality that evokes legend stories;
I am deemed a luminous face.
At times I wonder how these shadows survive
Each night the earth rotates their zones out.
I care and wish to be there always for them,
But I am not omnipresent.
I am the little bulb that hangs o’er their atmosphere,
I am a mass of substance that reflects light;
Is my work limited to these?
Oh how I have been reduced to depend on the sun’s might!
I did a little bit of a case study
And I know that these little beings are tormented by the sun at day;
The essence of my existence
Is to ease them of their worries after each day’s fray.
Later I saw how people suffered from Xeroderma Pigmentosum
And young individuals are literally kept out of the sun’s rays.
I come into their aid, leverage the rays’ effect
And give them solace in the night under my protective net.
I care about the people on earth.
I care about their fears and their health.
I want to be always there to lit up their nights
Even if I have to depend always on the sun, right?
But I ponder at times why I am treated unfair
By these beings for which I cared.
The nights they don’t see me actually,
I am reclined to my den of tears.
I am the shadowy moon over your skies
And all I want to say is that I have a heart too.

The moon is a loyal companion.It never leaves. It’s always there, watching, steadfast, knowing us in our light and dark moments, changing forever just as we do. Every day it’s a different version of itself. Sometimes weak and wan, sometimes strong and full of light. The moon understands what it means to be human. Uncertain. Alone. Cratered by imperfections.
– Tahereh Mafi

DRACULA: A tale of blood


with Potter Chris

On gloomy days
In my bones – you will see them draughted
DRACULAS! Skeletons of anguish driving
Along the marshlands in my soul.
“He thought I’ll come in at the cock’s crow
So he waited for my spotlight, wanted to set the battle in array.
Not in my days.
Call me the DRACULA incarnated;
A ghost reborn, a serpent in thinking.
I come in silently, no growls.
Hahaha. I’ll consume his soul.”
Death if the wind blows tomorrow,
May you have no boulevard near my soul.
If the trains of joy go so slow,
May its railway tracks me home before morn
Like incendiary bomb.
Let the stillborn joy in me suffer no more tumour.
Hence, not by your putrid blood will I live again
Nor the ones you left, will make good of your name.
I’m carried fragile, but I’m a storm
I’m not the usual individual you knew at dawn
I’ll fight this battle, though I be torn.
Tell them I’m the boss.
Though my teeth be filled with grit and dirt
From being thrown onto the earth,
I rise to charge still. I indeed, in this fight, is the Dracula now born.



It’s your insecurity again.
You can’t just accept who your shadow tells you meant to be.
You scream at some others
Who live that life you’re always suppressing.
Funny though, you seem to be perfect;
Among your friends you’re at your best
But you fight every night and day,
And without alcohol you can’t get rest.
It’s a usual phenomenon;
Living life like a pro;
Ain’t you considering you?
Ain’t you gonna live off your fears bro?
Your tears shouldn’t be wasted.
Wait! I know you are hit.
A pain in the heart just got you;
Come out and be fixed.
I’m writing a love story
To the guy inside of me
He seeks liberty
Yet I’m afraid to give it.
He’s in a web.



That smile she gives.
The way she makes her head tilt,
Her ponytails dropping off loosely to the side;
All gives you drills down your spine.
I agree.
She talks to you in a coy smile;
Your neurons are rendered charged.
She calls your name out of this world;
You conclude you are in love.
I get.
You just got out of chagrin
Then she passed by;
Your hotness of temper is captured,
You relax, hairs upright.
I see charges in the air.
You wouldn’t want to miss her show of teeth.
You walk and talk all by her.
You lost your being homesick.
Things are getting to be dreamy.
I can relate.
Love is a symptom of being human.
Your feelings didn’t die with your milk teeth
Perhaps, you need a solo moment to rethink
Before you leap to ask her out.
Lust is blind.

“Don’t allow your emotions to do the thinking; think through your emotions”.

-Robert Kiyosaki’s Rich Dad



You started your life with innocence:
When toys played and sorrow was of temporary stay,
When loves flowed in the atmosphere, where you glowed,
When the sandpit was the best of your accessories,
When you didn’t care and couldn’t possibly fear,
When biting mom’s breast was never wrong in your search of rest,
When you pooed on dad’s arm and it was just as fine to do so then.
Soon there was pandemonium:
You were suddenly afraid of every silhouette,
Then you cared about what threw a breeze o’er your chest;
Reds grow and more things were altered,
You saw that love ran helter skelter.
This incidence grew and it lasted:
Soon you were left with scars near to your head,
You had received great beatings from life and your dad,
The pain really reeks in your heart,
Tons of debris of hate and dislike,
Victim of circumstance you now are
As a result of this just concluded war.
You grow blank, there’s a period of silence you know:
The forming years when nothing special happens,
Aftermaths of crises that will be as any other day,
Life runs past you with the speed of light,
Your efforts rendered minute than the widow’s mite.
The last stage of this life is a prison:
When you’re dissolved in your thoughts,
When you’re absolved in a metaphoric world,
When you’ll smile and that’s not what is inside,
When you just sought to control your tears with a lie,
And you become the major judge of your life.
But what stage are you?
Know that there is a security from this pessimism.
Don’t just get up and live a good life,
Secure a good relationship with God and your Christ.


I’m beginning to feel God’s grieving as much as relational as the deep sighs of a shadowed woman. I’m beginning to imagine myself in His shoes and how it seems like the work of my hands is machined to go off my plans. Just as I hope for a better end, and further distantly more, God knows and anchors the end.

Denu Vour Bon

I would love you to stop by
And open your mind and its eye.
It ain’t no time to pity or feel sorry.
Release your tensions from off you
And sit down to reason and connect relationally
To the phenomena of the Divinity that surrounds you.
Take a deep breath.
Yea, take it all in,
Get a chilled ‘kerchief
To soak your feet with.
I’m taking your time.
Yea, I know.
This I do to make you read this poesy
After the proper timing, harmony, and flow.
Think of a woman
That has well-suffered mischief.
How that she mopes and sighs and weep
Just ‘neath her soul.
Think of her in the morning hours,
All her plans and high hopes
And think of her at noontime
As her execution plans are altered,
Yet one goal.
Think of her.
How scattered her hair would rise.
How violent and rudely her words are designed.
How. How?
Think of God.
Dropdown your myths, folktales, loves, science and superstition.
For the space of the next minutes think outside of your doctrines.
Get blown into the aura of space beyond this stratosphere,
And think about God
And of the Being that brought purpose.
He started everything for good.
Think of Him like the woman having her plans countered.
Think of Him.
Do you think He’s pained?
Then why fault Him?
Think of Him a woman rendered a fault.
Think of Him a lady caught in the trauma of reality.
Think of Him as a girl shadowed, being victimized.
Do you think there’s a Being up there who doesn’t care?
He suffers affliction too.
Just like the shadowed woman.
If God was a woman,
The eath would have been flooded with His tears of regret,
But God is not a man.
Think over.


Baba God I hail u o
Bros J, I salute u
I dey read ur word for early momo
I con see how blackman dey enter Adam wife
How in dey use psychology dey twist in brain
Wey she con dey fo for d philosophy in bring
I con dey reason say blackman wise o
I no sabi say I neva see sumtin
Na in I cari bodi tori gbem
Go book of broda Matthew
I wan see how Bros J take comot
For inside blackman palaver
Baba may I no lie, mo fo o
Blackman enta in wan catch
Bros J with hunga
Blackman sabi say
Bros J just dey come from mountain
Wey last 40 days and night
In con be like
“Bros J if ur pile be Baba God
Talk sumtin comot for mouth
Wey go turn these stones to bread”
Bros J calm.
In smile for inside in heart.
In con answer
“Guy dey don write am say
Man no fi dey live as per
Ordinary bread wey in dey chao
Na only Baba God word
Dey give person life”
Blackman break
Bros J senior am tey tey
In con carry Bros J
Go one tall place
In dey try use anoda
Psycho for Bros J
In con say
“Bros J, if na Baba God be ur pile
Jump comot dis place
Sebi dey write am say
Angels go hold u
May u no use leg shook stone”
Bros J look d idiot con say
“Dey write am say make
U no dey tempt Baba God”
Blackman no wan gree
In carry Bros J
Go on top Mt Everest
In con dey show am beautiful places
Like Las Vegas, Paris, Mayami
As Dubai dey pass for Bros J eyes
Blackman con enta talk say
“I go give u beta life
Dubai o, Paris o, Las Vegas o
All of dem, I go give u
May u just tori gbem
Worship me”
Aah! Blackman wicked o
Bros J no fo
Bros J don see blackman fuck up
Bros J send reply give am
“Guy comot for here jhoor
Dey write am
Na Baba God u go worship
U gats serve only him
No other”
Blackman fear
Yawa don gas
Bros man ja pa
Baba God o
Afta I see wetin shele
I con dey reason say
Make every Christian
Go lear psychology
So say may dem no fo
Wen blackman approach dem
With principle YOU
Baba God
Shey my recommendation right?
Baba God
I hail o


Peace begins with a smile.

– Mother Theresa


Oh that smile!
It is the escape he has.
Do not deprive him
Of the happiness he buys.
Others have this at the most,
They are satisfied.

There’s a girl at a corner
Who wishes to open her face too;
She doesn’t care how it comes,
She is just wistful for joy.

The cover for sobs.
You do it perfectly when
The edges of your lips
Rise just two degrees
Above their rest.

It takes a courageous one
To join the team.
No. Not money is the entry fee,
But the desire to live intentionally.

It is called optimism.
I don’t have to be dissolved
In anything synonymous to crying.
You should smile it out too,
You will be relieved.

I love those that can smile in trouble.

-Leornado Da Vinci


Though I suffer a fight within me, I wont give up.


Slashed through and through
Is a pain from the past,
Doctors of time and pieces of advice
Have long strived to cover its scars.
Those concepts all nice;
At their instance, I’m like sublime
Until the night time
Then am I opposed by the realities of the fight.

Its been three long years
Since I signed the agreement form.
Then there was the vibe,
Its fervencies so strong
But soon I reclined
As some did vision.
I broke my vow, public disgrace;
Things that tore my heart asunder.

Soon I was fine,
Another passing of time,
As the world drew near
To a major transition in calendar.
The decade reborn
My resolutions were on;
Where do these thoughts come from?

The devil saw my fight
Then he came up with a plight;
Turned my phone on
Pornography asked to know if I was bored.
I was weak.
But no games.
“Get the fuck” I said,
“In Jesus name.”

You, care less more;
Focus on the business at heart,
Do not stain your mind
With scars from your past.
It’s a friendly warning
Not an advice or a gimmick,
I’m just passing by
With my pen at hand.
Stay safe.


I am grateful for the moments of pain and sadness, joy and tears and for each one who contributed in shaping and pruning me in the year 2019 Denu Vour Bon B ANOTHER YEAR IS DAWN Chronicles of the yesteryear Ring a bell so loud in my ear: I remember how I started fierily And it was as though I wouldn’t grow weary. January was filled with hypes and vibes, A little moment of distress and frustration Which were soon overcome When the mindset rotated to understand perception. I grew into February a dreamy being And I recorded a lot of visions to my nights Fervently remembered my talk of love on the fourteenth And how a friend’s “you like writing about love” became a piece of advice. March saw me signing to become an activist Expressly talking of my beliefs in Fela Durotoye, “Vote ANN” I would say, “Vote them all out and let the youth secure the executive seat.” Wonderful April, as the conflict became real, My soul standing to be judged by my flesh of its hopes The battleground that grew in my heart so strong The major poesy of that month was a message to my heart, “Never give up on hope.” May brought the shock of a friend’s death, We were not so close but Gbenga Saliu was dear to me. This and more misfortunes slashed my heart apart; I fought it through, prayed but I was depressed. Oh June, after I had cried bitter tears of the last month’s fears, I went off to get myself fortified in Christ. All thanks to God I did, Else I would have never been safe during depression’s week. Then it was July when I resumed school and felt affection My colleagues had missed my presence at school; Tomisin Osisami, Christianah, even Flourish And all my departmental guys starting from Theophilus. I had prepared for it but it caught me all of a sudden; Yea, my birth month, August, Not its celebrations but the accompanying frustrations Tears and pain all of which Jide Israel pet me from. It was the month I wrote the most, cried the most. But iii am fine. No one knows. September, a mixture of I didn’t care and fear That was survived by God under Jide’s brotherly care, Occasional calls from home that strengthened my faith; Mom told me I shall rise again. Notable were the encouraging words of Samuel Dimale, Google Oreoluwa, Jide my bestie e.t.c., While I valued perceived truths others said of me As feedbacks for me to succeed. October, I fought with love and Flourish And I’m not shy to admit it. Why I admitted I was crushed by infatuation thrice in one day Is a fact that greatly amuses me. But I survived. Graceful November, filled with travels, Deemed special because I was pessimistic no longer. The month I got the understanding that I could do anything Only if I fixed my mind on doing it. I also caught a glimpse of my favorite vlogger, Dimmykiss in Ibadan. Then the intentionality of December strolled by And I got an idea of the key to be eased from depression; Dad called it my stress management theory, Even the act of diarying. I published a book, closed sales, Got more great visions, leveraged people And work towards a better brighter me, kudos to UK Stephen. Now a new year is a dawn And I know I ain’t no more tasting downs. No. Not at all. No failure. I either succeed or get feedback. I guess you know what that means? God, through Jesus your Son, I’m grateful.


As a matter of fact I’m not sure as to how well I’d be able to communicate the pain of the reality of the situation but, I’d try my best.


I did not ask for the scholarship though I was in need of funds, my community just decided to enlist my name among others that were to benefit from Lafarge’s generosity to villages and communities affected by its cement production process in the 24km or so radius of the Ewekoro LGA of Ogun state. I was elated, seriously delighted that at last funding was coming for me. I should have known better.

Soon I, along with other candidates, was called upon for a very brief interview that had been previously overrated when it was actually a simple process. I was only asked of my name, school and department. We were served with refreshments afterwards and it was told us that we would be gotten back to the next week.

Well, qualitative improvements in technology and the development of the WhatsApp platform inspired those of us under one of the zones to form a WhatsApp group just to stay tuned to latest info about the scholarship. I dropped mine also and was added to the group ASAP.

The awaited week crawled in and I had literally forgotten everything about the scholarship coz I had returned to school. But, in school, I was broke and seriously hungry hence, I decided to call home to see if they could help out with some cash to buy some foodstuff. Dad told me to borrow money and journey down home, which was just a LGA away from school, and once I received an affirmation from him that I’d be adequately settled, I obliged.

To cut the long story short, Dad have #15000 to me stating that it came from the company as a tip (that’s how he understood it sha). So we went to appreciate the individual who had linked us up to this communal opportunity and, you know, to drop something for the family out of the #15000, say #5000, as a token of our appreciation. Well, the Oga declined the offer claiming I should go ahead and get me some good clothes and all.

Not until 22/10/2019 did I discover a truth. I don’t just know.

On the group chat, I was made to understand that #100000 was the cash prize but that the community would remove their divide if it. It also stuck my understanding that that which was sent us was the cash prize and many stated what they got as their final share. Since said #45000, some collected #35000 while some others had #50000 given to them. A particular guy was so lucky, he received #95000. But I only got #15000.

When I stated mine it shocked all of them.

I just have a question or two to have this sorrowful moment of mine;

Are my community leaders so good as to give me 15% of the scholarship when I actually pay #122000 as tuition fee? Its an ironical question please.

Are they so heartless?

I’m beginning to wonder why people like Obasanjo decided to do nothing for their communities when they eventually made it.

I haven’t paid my school fee yet and the deadline is running close. I don’t simply know what to do. Someone should advice me abeg.



My heart cries out

for the LORD God of my salvation;

My soul seek out

to catch He whom I am a reflection.

My hands pant

for the time to perform miracles

My brain desires to lose its counts

of my feet moving around to share the Good News.

My eyes are teary

as they want to close up again to pray;

My ears are yearning

to hear the voice of God at the cool of each day.

My tongue is expectant

waiting for the days my spittle would dry out;

My mouth yearns to rant

the gospel of Christ loudly out.

My stomach awaits the time

when 40 days of fasting would be same as skipping breakfast.

My flesh also looks out for that time

it would have burnt completely and become numb as a cast.

I just long for Your manifest presence Jesus!

© Denu Vour Bon


Voice of A Sincere Heart

At one point in our lives, we’d been engrossed in depression.
-Denu Vour Bon

I have been compressed

And suppressed;

I am now depressed

As none of my burdens can be expressed.

I am homeless

Though I roam less,

I hope less,

When would I be saved from this mess?

Why is my generation a lot different

From that of the ancient?

Deception’s eaten us a great extent;

¹Now with what shall we pay our rent?

I am weary,

I walk dreary,

People think I’m crazy,

Oh! When would I and God marry?

I’ve been hoping,

I’m still hoping

And I’ll keep hoping

Until I see Your manifesting!

Yet hold on Sir,

My soul pants after You Sir

And I want all of You Sir

For I am suppressed, depressed and compressed altogether!

Answer me now!

© Denu Vour Bon



He looks haggard and unkempt;

Hair’s all rough, body’s malnutrited,

Yet he sits in the front row in church

And he has a great faith, one that I admire so much…

He is the pastor’s child.

She almost never attend church services,

She’ll always give excuses.

Though from a poor background,

She spends dollars today, on the morrow pounds;

She is the pastor’s child.

Always seated at a corner

Is a lady so sober;

Her face is always like the aftermath of a cry

“Why are there so much sinners?” she’d ask herself and sigh,

That’s the pastor child.

Nothing is working out for him,

It is like his challenges are accelerating;

His few good clothes and gracious smile

Is just a camouflage for his sorrows and cry

As he is the pastor’s child.

Some are wayward

Others are heavenward;

Some of them, together with their parents, endure great sufferings

Some others are lucky to be born into their parents riches.

Whichever the case, help save the pastor’s child.

© Denu Vour Bon



“You ain’t born again,

How can you say you got saved?

Are not these thoughts you think

Against your Lord’s preaching?

Didn’t your Master rightly say

The wicked are as hay

Laid up for the fire

You people call hell fire?…

Sin is like dust it can’t be wiped out;

Not one memory can be lost!

If all these surely stand,

Then why do you remain ¹bound?

²Why do you choose to die daily?…”

By these words, Lucifer tempts Mary!

A long think and a deep sigh

And Mary, a Christian, replied:

“Oh! I am in bounds; I know, I know!

And oh life seems so hard with not a glow!

How I long for liberty,

Though I be bound in a prison so dreary,

And would I untie myself

And loose Christ’s mansion I’ve earned?

Oh! Lucifer, I know that thou art fallen

And I know that forever fallen wilt be;

I know you are as a lord to the Earth

Knowest thou that I am but a pilgrim here?

Oh! My persecution is much,

Sickness have deprived me of ³church;

My soul is become a battleground,

My heart’s failed and for Christ am I bound.

And life ain’t helping at all,

All worn out am I like an old ball. Yet, I am born again!

Ask me and I would say it over again;

I have been saved,

Sin had been sent to its grave.

And I forsook all that night

My heart welcomed the Light.

I have been justified

I could tell you how I got sanctified…

I challenge you to look through my life

To pick out one sin, just one part of flesh alive.

I am clean,

God so had made me!

And you can’t hold on to my weakness

Thou accuser of the brethren!

Let me alone Lucifer

Thou father of liars!

You can never speak of truth,

You can’t deceive my ⁴youth!

Get thee behind me,

Forever I’ll rebuke thee

And in the name of Lord

Be thou exiled from my world.

Thank you Lord for the victory,

Help me to continue in Thee.”

So Sister Mary prayed

And she surely won the fray.

Rest assured was she,

And she said: “my Father watches me.”

The devil ain’t nothing but a liar

A hardened deceiver;

He’ll bring guilt and condemnation

So you could lose your salvation.

Anytime he comes, call on your Lord,

He’ll answer, for you matter to God.

© Denu Vour Bon


¹ Hebrews 13:3 and the general idea that Christians are in bonds with Christ

² 1Corinthians 15:31, Romans 12:1

³ Literally, going to church

⁴ 1Timothy 4:12, Ecclesiastes 11:9,10, 12:1



Your standards are a factor of your righteousness and absolute perfection does not come from your self righteousness, else the Pharisees have a place in heaven, but from your ability to maintain the faith in a pure heart and in obedience to God. So when you come short of your standards, forgive yourself quick and move on.
– Denu Vour Bon

At times we get so depressed

That we fail to realize that God’s present;

We put on us, all over our faces, our so called faults

And that’s why it seems the storm is so turbulent.

Our walks reveal this

And we are soon irritated:

We’ve got a testimony still and people know

For they see God’s mark on our foreheads.

“I want to read my Bible and I’m sleeping,

Yet I pick up my phone, my eyes flicker open;

I want to pray but I soon doze off I feel in me exists a leaven…”

God understands you most; you together with your weaknesses.

He wants you to understand He loves you…

Yea, you’ve set some personal standards it seem you’re compromising;

Calm down, you’re still His, God’s mark is on you!

This is not at all sentimental,

Neither am I justifying the sin of the backsliders…

I’m actually referring to that weakest of Christians

Who so much loves God that he doesn’t want to experience falters…

He wants to live atop everything called downs

(This is not the downs of going back into sin)

That he gets violent with himself when he fails one of his standards.

This is who I write unto that he be not dismayed at this feeling.

I see the light of God’s glory radiating through him…

Oh my! She’s so filled with the aura of His presence.

Though you feel empty of God my brother, my sister;

This is so done to you to dismantle the glory of self.

“Not of works, lest any man should boast”

Is the prophecy fulfilled in you to humble you…

Soon it would be time to get up and operate and see those signs again,

You ain’t gonna remain the same; God’s mark is on you!

© Denu Vour Bon



We’d continue to deceive ourselves if we are always finding faults in every arm of government. We all know that while the basket is full of rotten tomatoes there is always, at least one, some fresh tomatoes.
-Denu Vour Bon

Everyone’s sleeping soundly in bed

Coz a comrade is out there in the dark…

You could have the right to live a civilian

Because a troop toils the night dyed black.

They have families too

They didn’t come down from heaven;

Death is like good news,

A zeal to fight at the count of seven!

Their mothers’ hearts are tender as yours

But these chose to sacrifice their lives for your peace;

Stray bullets is their pride,

Though injured, they would not cease.

Their wives are forever widows

Always living to mourn the husbands,

Whether dead or alive,

For he and death are in a band.

The soldier women give up

Their lovely children to fight

For the peace of the unborn of yours;

She fights to maintain their right.

Their sacrifice is priceless

Their salary is the pay of their lives,

If you’re coveteous of it

You could go live in their barracks.

They’re gone, *they fight till death!*

*The troops have gone to die,*

Not to fight only,

For Nigeria our fatherland.

Observe a minute of silent

Each time you remember their sacrifices;

For your peace they are dead

Laid up as peace offerings!


You don’t judge based on rumor. Again, I reemphasize, “first impression matters” is a big scam. A major scam. Please let us know what we are doing.


There’s an emerging stereotype about my nation, an abhorrent identity. Like other well-meaning Nigerians, I would like to reiterate that: “Not all Nigerians are fraudsters”. The 80-man list of suspected conmen (of which most are Nigerian nationals) released by the US Government shouldn’t be a basis for such repugnant labeling on Nigeria (or Nigerians).

My country – a nation of over 180 million people, the greatest black nation in the world, the Giant of Africa – is a bundle of legitimacy. I am a quintessential Nigerian. I am legit.


I am a Nigerian;
I sing in the bathroom when happy,
Jive and groove to every “gbedu wey dey burst brain”.
I’m an everyday Nigerian.

You would notice my energetic Mondays,
My rapid Tuesdays, my venereal Wednesdays, and my nostalgic Thursdays.
Oh yes, Fridays I’m grateful, Saturdays I’m playful
And Sundays I worship.

Quintessentially Nigerian,
You would find the…

View original post 101 more words



Credit: Whatsapp status screenshot

Everyone is clamoring for a particular relationship or the other. Now we understand that unlike charges usually attract and those of same constituents repel hence, a bashful wistfulness towards the opposite sex. Are we sure that the aura of pure libido built up in our subconscious is satisfied with our shallow connections and undeep relations with folks?
Humans are forever beings that desire union. The reaction between our inbuilt lusts and the very nature of beauty that surrounds us renders particular sights aphrodisiac to us. Funny as it is, it is discovered that this craving is usually inconstant and when a hormonal reaction via sexual intercourse comes in, there is usually despite of these sights that were once awesome in the glories of their grace. What point is being made? Nothing else but the fact that we have coursed the pursuit of our thoughts and longings in the direction that is disheveling to the status of our being – what we’re made of. The reason, therefore, for the seasonal feeling of lonesomeness which we usually dismiss with our shallow hopes of finding a good definition soon.
Our relationships are undeep. Yes. They are without any depth of affection or love. I wonder how possible it would be that we live the ‘love your neighbor as yourself’ commandment seeing all we chase is to get some opposite sex to play with us in bed. True love have been mistaken for some beautiful photographs, uploading ‘in a relationship’ on social media bios, some few dates in a serene place, chatting through the night on phone or via Google hangouts (some even go to abuse such via sex chatting and its brothers) and other love ideas we got from the movies. While the afore are sometimes featured in a genuine love relationship, they don’t define love neither do they spell out the descriptions of a real relationship.
A real relationship is one that is subset to none, superset of all. The reason we continue to have problems in our day to day life is because we have failed to relationally connect with our neighbor. Just like the childhood chatter of friendship that typifies rare love bondings, a relationship is a relational connection between two entities of different, yes, substances. A good example is the love of God towards us that made Him to sacrifice His Only Begotten Son for the livesremission of the sins we committed; and how He made, and continue to make, specific entrances into our lives to show us He cares and that He is there. This relationship He made plain is not determinant on who we are out what we are made up of, it is His universal act of delight in the course of the human world. We continue to have issues in our relationships until we come to understand the import of this sacrifice of Jesus on the cross in our lives thereby surrendering to His will and living the reality that relationship should be aimed at making lasting impacts and connecting relationally to the soul of the other being involved. Yes. That relationship is more spiritual than usual, being a phenomena that existed before time.
More to the above, it is important to note that building success in one’s love life starts from putting a smile on a neighbor’s face and helping to bear his burdens occasionally.

© Denu Vour Bon



Sin, as it is, is an entity separate from our beings. Have you noticed that you don’t go to hell to suffer the consequence of your being but of sin? Oh that men would separate sin from their lives and live the righteousness that they were created with.
– Denu Vour Bon

Credit: Pinterest

The scripture says in 2Peter2:9; “The Lord knoweth how to deliver the godly out of temptations, and to reserve the unjust unto the day of judgment to be punished.”

The first line says ‘The Lord knoweth how to deliver the godly,’ the godly as used here is one who detest sin, he hates it with all his heart, soul and spirit and he is not ready to give himself over to sin. The godly is not one who is not willing to drop and leave his sins behind him, rather, he is that individual, who after tasting of the grace of God through the salvation of his soul, would so fight sin wherever he sees it. He is that person that eliminates sinful appearances that come near him with immediate effect and he is that man who would not even entertain the thoughts of sinning. It is this man that God would deliver ‘…out of temptations.’ But if a man be unjust, though he manifest a little disgust for sin but is not willing to sincerely forsake those sins he commit, such would the Lord reserve unto the day of judgment to be punished.

In a bid to avoid being punished, you as an individual, oh you Blessed and Beloved of God, need to sincerely eliminate all the appearances of sin and sin itself around you. This will surely require you to stop being friends with some people and you will also part ways with others. In short, you would have to reject being friends with anyone that had been your sinful partner , both male and female. That is the first stage of manifesting detest for sin. And it requires cutting off from every evil conversation and association. After this, oh Beloved, you grow to the next stage and firmly preach against all those sins you have confessed before God when you were repenting. Truly from your heart, knowing the pain you passed through when you were in bondage to these things, you would preach against these sins and every form of sin. Let people know that you don’t do them anymore and that you are strongly against those things. Then the next step is to pray against falling into temptation and pray also that your former friends and all those that are still sinning should also be saved. From here you graduate to the level of seriously reading and studying of your Bible, because it is the map that leads to heaven. You would study the Bible very well so that you can know what God wants you to do the more and make sure you do what God have told you to do through His word. You also will continue everyday with the mind that Heaven is real and Hell is real. You will soon discover that you are now living according to God’s standard of holiness as you faithfully fulfill these things and God would deliver you, my Beloved, ‘…out of temptations.’ NOTE THAT those who are godly, according to Ezekiel 9:4-6, are those who hate sin and would not want to be an host for it. They are vexed with sin all the time and this guide I have carefully written as I was led, to show you only the surface of how you can continue from salvation to godliness without falling back into sin.

Dear Beloved, faithfully fulfill all these and the mark of God for the godly would come on you shortly… Remain blessed my Beloved. Amen. Share with all your friends.

© Denu Vour Bon



Credit: Pinterest


I feel so empty today

I could decide to run away.

Stress is on me, I’m trying very very hard to meet up

To the standards I see all around me, my assignments, dreams, plans, timetable and all.

You know, I’m so engrossed in my thoughts

And because I couldn’t greet you this morning, you concluded I was a snub

Not knowing I’m long lost, being no longer in this realm,

With my eyes wide open but senses unaware.

While I love to move motions and be famous

I discovered I’m just too weak to suffer pain.

Could I be a victim of circumstance?

Is it true: no pain, no gain?

I’m smiling in your face but I’m in tears;

I stand in awe, I’m full of fears

But I try each day to gather up my broken pieces

And to put on some smiles’ crutches.

Would I ever blend to this system?

Would I get adapted?

Issokay, let me try to hasten up.

So many individuals are not the realities of what they are,

Because we’ve all added a little pinch of make up

Make over and so many things to tush ourselves up.

Can we help it?

Can we live what we have inside us?

Can we come out without our make ups and overs

And be bold enough to represent our thoughts?

No, your words are not enough,

We see your behaviors each day.

The craving within us we don’t understand

But we chase after mirages and turn our backs on the realities

All with the hope of a better ahead, a brighter tomorrow.

While we want to be good,

We find ourselves becoming evil.

We need help.

Jesus’ enough, yet we fail to accept.

Ain’t a religion-bias poesy though

It’s just that our hearts cry so loud and unheard of a presence we cannot define.

And our Help is near

But we fail to forbear.

Who else would heed or cry

And answer to our sighs?

This we’d search for forever.

© Denu Vour Bon

Credit: Pinterest @myfavouritewallpaper



Click the link below to download video

At about 12pm yesterday, the architecture students of the Olabisi Onabanjo University, Ibogun Campus, awaited the submission of their studio (ARC 302) assignment. During the course of this, two students challenged each other on who could run faster. This word challenge aggravated as other classmates supported one side or the other, as much as to place bets on who would win. Hence, a contest arose from an initial two man challenge and the question that bubbled up was: “Who would win? Is it the lightweight untrained sprinter known as Denu Vour Bon or the fatter and weightier football player called Posi?

To cut the long story short and to the surprise of all, the lightweight sprinter was outran by the weightier Posi with nothing less than 1.5 meters.

The fun did not die down after this, as many others joined the challenge and started competing amongst themselves on who could run best. Notable among these were those of Sola and Joseph; Hon. Theophilus, Comr. Dele, Manny and Duro.

The later set met a tragic ending; an ending that aroused hysterical laughter and emotional pity.

The race started well.

Duro stopped running and disqualified himself as soon as he started probably for fear. Later he told of his actions that they were based on the reactions of his instincts.

Theophilus A.O. Adelaja, a honorable of the faculty, fell with a prolonged slide on the asphalt of the roadway sustaining injuries on his jaw, left knee and a pain in his right elbow. He himself did not know he sustained any injuries after the incident at first, for he sat up and asked: “What happened?” He was taken to the college’s health care center by some other colleagues and was quickly attended to.

He’s in good health now and we pray that the Good Lord continue to preserve us from evil in Jesus name.

When asked the likely cause for his fall, he explained that his trousers was tight and that it fought against him as he tried to increase his strides. Later, the trousers snapped and rendered him off balance till her crashed to the floor on his chest.

The race itself was won by Comr. Dele Qwawiy, who was closely followed by Manny.

A student, going by the name Sen. Goke Onasanya, reported the following concerning the incidence:

“We were about to submit our project but because the lecturer in charge was taking the 500 level students, we decided to chill and wait for him outside the 500 level studio under the tree. Suddenly an argument came up between some colleagues on who could run a race better. It ended up becoming what some other colleagues decided to participate in. This guy that fell also decided to join the event not knowing it would end up in an unforseen incidence. The video is funny though but thanks to God, he is back on his knees, hail and active.”

This little event brought mixed reactions amongst the students, and while some blamed, others saw it from a totally different perspective.

© Denu Vour Bon





“Life is like a race on asphalt, it doesn’t matter what time you finish just don’t fall down. It’s deadly.”

– Denu Vour Bon

It ain’t no more a race.

It is survival…

If you’re not fit,

It is time to pull out.

Starting well ain’t the matter,

For there are those who started and could not finish.

It is a matter of do or death,

Life or health.

Move! Move!

You’re almost falling.

Watch out!

Your heart is soon cut out.

The race is for all,

It is a death race and there’s no excuse.

It ain’t a matter of winning,

Just survive.

That’s important.

We all are running

And this hustle is more intriguing than any aphrodisia,

It is more real than our reality, it is no abstract.

Wait up!

Don’t answer.

Whether slow, steady, fast or furious,

Just maintain your stance,

Don’t loose balance.


Run, don’t fall, I plead.

©Denu Vour Bon




Twas a thin stretch that served as her bed,

Was she ever going to lay asleep?

She had been buried all day long amidst the crowd of rays,

But now does she have all the stage to fulfill her will.

None had cared about what the day had told of her.

Neither is any concerned to configure the identity of the silhouettes she carried.

She’s just regarded as a means to an end,

The trigger of every moonlight story narrated.

How my sister had been taken in this same regard!

How she had been forgotten, relegated to the background!

Thought as to be good only for the bedroom or the kitchen,

And none is thinking of her better than a sex tag.

Oh sullen moon!

Would I be the more excited than to see you every night?

I just care about myself that’s all.

I, like many others, do not care about the moon’s night…

© Denu Vour Bon



Can’t I stand out under another’s light?

Can’t I come to limelight by someone else’s might?

Can’t I be bright among the stars,

Even if I’m not a luminous substance?

Is there a cause? Can’t I be coursed?

Must I brainstorm? Can’t I just be the boss?

Isn’t there a One who would have me His light worn?

Let me just be the shadow of the great One.

It is enough. I suppose.

The moon is the brightest at the darkest night,

Yet does she have not her own light,

Outshining the stars; my thoughts at moonlight.

I’m pleased to be the streak of joy in someone’s night,

Throughout the sky.

© Denu Vour Bon



I’ve read a number of poems tonight,

And I must say y’all have tried.

But I must confess that these poems have not rarely presented Boomerang

In the context of the suspense the ancient ones, sang.

We shouldn’t limit it definitions to the summary of the dictionary,

We should all critically observe that, the rather, and connect with karma relationally.

Few words I have to say about the circle of life events

And I want you to pay discreet attention to the voice of my pen.

Its a one good and objectively relational adage that stated: “what goes around comes around.”

Truth be told, the ancient ones were seriously and distinctively brilliant to have conceived ‘karma’ with which this life is bound.

Their considerations included the laying of foundation from the youth up,

And also the reality of equal and opposite consequences to actions, reactions and decisions our beings are made of.

The boomerang principle intensifies the caution and command of our Lord that we do good and maintain righteousness;

While ‘karma’ stands to exert on us the weight of the statute of God which requires us to be valiant for our course in life, doing our very best.

But I’ve found that our definition of Boomerang have been misconstrued.

We now justify our misdeeds and lay déprimant pressure on others using this truth.

This we do in this simple way of saying the following to others in order to enslave and get them over-burdened:

“…You don’t know what the future holds, the tables might be turned tomorrow and it would be you turn to seek a favor from me,

If you don’t favor me now, how do you expect me to do so when life blesses me and put me in the place of power, authority or position?…”

I tell you, friends, from the beginning, Boomerang was not interpreted so.

©Denu Vour Bon



Through desire a man, having separated himself, seeketh and intermeddleth with all wisdom.
-Proverbs 18:1

She would sit at a corner

And stay there for hours;

She would come out only once

To eat in the morning hours,

And then she’d go back to her eggs,

After she had stretched her legs,

To sit on them and make them warm,

So will she continue till the number of days be 21.

Yea, for twenty one days,

She’d be literally without food

Neither would she drink but keep the eggs warm

Just to produce chicks that look good.

And when those eggs are hatched

And those little beings come out,

The hen’s status quo would change instantly

Because her chicks are a product of a bout!

Learn from the mother hen;

Who through persistence became abnormal

And just after the bout she produced new beings

And could now live above the normals!

Let abnormality come first!

Should all the time be eating, drinking and chatting?

Be scarce for a period of time

And be persistent in your dream-chasing.

The fact is just that

New things are not brought forth by the multitude,

Rather by the individual

Who goes into solitude!

Learn from mother hen!

Go back to your den,

For it is called a bout

Since new things would come out.



The Savior is just on His way
– Anonymous

Credit: Screenshot @discoverearth on IG

Worried out, stretched wide,

Depressed and oppressed, even losing hope

Is a lady that once had a smile

But she’s now a’glow with mopes.

She looks up, having being defiled;

Her husbands have played her…

Now she wonders if her case would ever be filed

“Would I be able to get a just lawyer?

Who would save me from oppression

And mend the holes created by husbands that left me?

Which man is it would cause emancipation from my corruption?

A man, not a cheat; find him, get us married!”

Her eyes are soaked with tears.

Her children; thirty-six hungry lads,

Are seated by their mother, full of fears;

Is there a man, a father, to gladen their hearts?

What man is it that would stand in the gap?

That would give this kids balanced diet and not again pap?

Or who is that man that would marry this lady

Bearing her burdens, suppressing her woes,

Nor minding she’s had a number of failed marriages?

A man who would eliminate her foes!

Great sighs I sighed when I heard of her story,

When I read through history and saw what she had passed through.

With tears I signed to become part of the jury

That would be in her favour on the day adjourned, bringing her ex-husbands to book.

After a few good times,

I read about Him also and I saw Him coming;

The Man who would deliver lady Nigeria from her past!

His name is Wonderful. No more tears lady, He’s on His way, He is coming!

© ‘Denu Vour Bon



We shouldn’t deceive ourselves that the present governmental system of this one great country of ours is democratically independent. While we are theoretically independent from the British, we are bound to a colonial system we almost cannot understand; yea, it is the dominance of godfathers and our total dependence on their verdicts… One day we’d be free.
Denu Vour Bon

A life of irony.

Frustration’s just at the door.

Living through the moment,

Without one hope of glamour.

Planted in a system

Dissolved in corruption,

The rich is said to also cry

But who cares to know the agonies of the poor.

It all started when the ancient

Stopped being innocent.

When they to degradation gave up our lands

To receive cigarette sticks as gifts from the white men’s hands.

It evolved, turned great, as street locals

Came into the system, becoming our nation’s large stakeholders.

Through it all, we were left to wonder and ponder on

“Who has got a vision and is seeking to obey the nation’s call?”

The stakeholders now stand as elders

Who are not ready to step down from the nation’s loot…

Oh! They nursed up an adage that makes them see afar,

Even beyond what the nation’s nursery see as crooks…

Who would ease us off?

When is the deliverance going to come?

Nigeria is independent my foot!

Not until we send on exile the crooks.

Let them never come back and we’d be free!

© Denu Vour Bon



Some folks find joy in disturbing our line of thoughts and hampering our free flow of ideas with unwanted gists.
– Denu Vour Bon

Credit: Phone Screenshot

One said my department was to play against another,

Another told me of a concert going on in one lecture threatre.

A rumour on Campus; “A 200 level lady got pregnant.”

Well, I believe, that’s their problem!

Gossipers talking of a lecturer who keep on speaking blunders;

Poke- nosing scorners filling the campus with their lies.

In fact, one ran to me looking for his pants,

“Bro” I said, “that is your problem.”

Too many things on my mind that I don’t have time for bullshit.

Too many lines to draw, sincerely I can’t wait for your gist.

Why are you telling me today is worldwide day off for rant?

Please, that ain’t my problem! Yeah! I complain too much though I’m too short;

You touched me in a cold weather and said my body is too hot.

I’m on the internet and you are asking: “Are you searching for grants?”

Dear fellow, Is that your problem?!

My eyes are heavy, I haven’t been sleeping.

Love for first class is making my eyes grow dim.

I want still to read the more than I do but I can’t.

Sis, this is actually my problem!!!

Denu Vour Bon




It does matter what things we conceive of our folks. Our bad minds are very far from understanding the situation of our neighbor because we ain’t God who knows the depth of the thoughts of each person’s heart. When you are opportuned to relate with people, endeavor to be quick to bring yourself in the shoes of the other rather than being judgy, going about nosy. Also be truthful and teach the truth, not superstitions.
– Denu Vour Bon

She had not lived her life yet

But they’ve concluded.

Wóní orúko àmútòrunwáni

They said she was wicked.

Yòrübá bò, wón ki oríkì rè pé

Ìgé àbíbí onísa màléte

Agbónilénu bíi ajara

Omo onígba ìráwò

Ìgè ò rójú, ìyóju bàbà rè lórí

Ìgè ìbá rójú ìyà rè, ìbáti má yòsè síta…

Just because she was born unnormal with her feet out first

Made them conclude she was to be the vilest.

Oh sorrowful being!

Purposed of God to be the most honored amongst her brethren.

He was named Ige

Because of the sorrow and pain his birth caused his mother.

Ige, oh Ige!

Ige, born in sorrow and nicknamed Jabez;

Ige is a victim of circumstance.

But I’m fine. Oh yes, I’m fine.

Though tradition has almost been abolished,

And vain superstitions are being relinquished,

We still see the same mindset in all

They said, and so they always say, “first impression matters” and nothing more.

So we discover that another she is being rendered an outcast

And that a particular he is a victim of circumstance.

Also, I’ve found out that you hold a wrong definition of me, that you’ve concluded that I’m a nobody just because I did not measure up to your standards.

She was Ige by birth.

He became Ige by flight.

You were named Ige from the start,

So am I Ige for something that was not my act.

Let’s get a perfect definition of ourselves

And come to relate with each other and everybody in a love that is not necessarily perfect.

You don’t have to wait for another Ige to cry out

Before you conclude that acceptation is not by sight, circumstance or performance

But by the verdict of love your neighbor as yourself.

© Denu Vour Bon


The Truth Haunts Me…

Have you ever been so burdened for the wrong that happens in your environment which is against the truth you’ve believed in?
– Denu Vour Bon

I see so many shallow people around

Who are undeep in their conceptualization of right and wrong.

I myself do some unreasonable things at times

And it pains me that the current trend is about singing our Lord’s song.


What do I try to communicate?

What difference does it make after all?

All I know is that I’m pained.

I can no longer revel in the activities of my environment,

I can no longer desire your surface fellowship.

I crave for more.

The truth haunts me…

What truth?

The truth that there’s a God who exist

Against the one directional reasoning of atheists;

The truth that God is surprisingly relatable

In opposition to the idea that acknowledging and affirming His existence is not possible;

The truth that God is not mocked, scorned, neither is His truth destroyed

By various false representations and professions of members of the house of the church of satan and the Illuminati, especially those of their progenitors.

Oh! I am haunted.

Haunted by the truthfulness of God’s truth and the verity of the destruction that awaits you.

I am tormented by the reality and certainty of Doom’s day that have been regarded by movie industries as one of many science’s plays.

And I have no power in me to do what I have in mind to do.

But still it haunts.

The Truth had decided to subdue my thoughts.

It had decided to overcome my imaginations,

Now all I see is death, doom and shedding of blood.

It hurts when I see friends, even foes, commit their lives to a course whose end is hell.

The funny deception there is; they, from childhood, have been made to believe in a lie in the disguise of the truth,

And many, being sheeply, lay down their lives for their religion and make haste to be featured in a suicide mission,

Murdering and cutting short their own brilliant futures. I wonder why their religious father’s themselves are not suicide bombers too.

Then one come to me, having mastered the principles of tradition,

Being made a key leader in the most religious sect of that religious division,

And brave himself up to even tell me salvation is by Muhammed.

My heart stops and I cannot fail to wonder what book he read.

Was history corrupted or did he miss out the consistent and frequent plea of Islam’s progenitor that he be not thrown into the fire of hell?

It haunts me more

When beautiful faces are subjected to the thermal conductivity of their black hijab and face covers to depict faithfulness to the vanity of religion.

Then the ghostly truth suppresses me.

And I cannot fail to weep over the wasting of natural resources by adherents of idolatry,

Which they do when they make their countless number of sacrifices to lifeless gods,

Who have no mouths to eat, tongues to taste, ears to listen to ritual proceedings, voices to make comments nor noses to even perceive the aroma of what their followers have brought.

When they themselves are carried by their worshippers,

Being unable to move and inch from where they currently stand.

Oh voice of God in the church!

Is it the Spirit of God that led you to legalize fornication?!

How woeful I feel when I see one receive to himself God’s glory.

You’re the prophet of God indeed you mocker of Christ’s doctrines?!

The Truth that haunts me

Is the truth of salvation

And how the Christian race is of faith and yet of works.

How that I am saved by grace and should still be obedient to the law.

How that my freedom in Christ Jesus do not mean I should be uncultured,

And how that I am God’s servant and yet His son by adoption.

The era of speaking in tongues

And singing spiritual songs.

The epoch of chanting in the Holy Ghost

And paying without understanding the most.

All these is the foundation of the spirituality of this generation

And I still wonder why (even with the rapidly increasing number of fellowships, churches and ministries) we have failed to cub immorality, indecency and gangsterism in our nation.

We have failed.

That’s what the Truth tells me.

I’ve seen that drifting away in the mass

As I see a lady, no less than a prostitute, given the title “apostle of governance.”

Also I wonder where we get so many names and titles:

Evangelist of music, His holiness the Reverend Father and so many others;

May I tell you more that since the beginning it was not so.

These things and a million and one others, the Truth let me know.

Oh that I might be a personification of the Truth.

That I be possessed with this Spirit of Truth that haunts me

The realities of deadness on the altar and gracious spiritual levels this have to offer

Are still part of that which scare me from His (the Truth’s) personality.

And while I runaway,

The unfolding of events

Bring me back to being haunted still…

Some silence.

Some disheveledness.

The Truth haunts me still…

© Denu Vour Bon



“Watch out!” Tom cried.

“Oh my!” I swerved the car to the right

To deliver us four from an head on collision with a lorry.

I parked and we laughed and cried till the vehicle was out of sight.

We had been talking all the way long

Trying to cover up for the years we had been apart.

I knew the road quite well

But had been so carried out of my track by our chitchat.

“Thank God we weren’t hit,” I said aloud.

“Amen!” The three others echoed.

“Are we to stay here forever?” Jimmy asked.

Entering the car, we zoomed off; like we were programmed by a code.

“We would be riding those bicycles from here” I announced later.

“Why?” That was Donald, the fat guy.

“Because the car wouldn’t go any further” I told him

“And we would ride,” I contined, “well over a mile.”

They stood surprised, then Tom cleared his throat

And said, “Tenney, be specific”

“OK, it is about three miles”

I said, trying to be brief.

They three sighed and I joined

And we all got out our bicycles and backpacks

And raced to the *witch mountain.*

Donald strode along, not catching up, for he was full of fats.

Once there, we stretched to ease the pain

And waited like forever for Donald to arrive

When he did, we laughed, the sun shining radiant beams…

“Wake up son, or you’d miss your flight.” Mommy called

Then I knew reuniting with my friends was just a dream…



Her early morning presence breathed peace into my heart,

She took over my thoughts and resonated hers;

Would to God nature was a female human,

That she was a woman,

Would I have her married off to another man’s house?

The radiance of her fragrance, the peace in those rays,

The perfect bond of elements that connived to lit up earth’s ways;

Would to God she was my sister,

Whether elder or younger,

Would I ever leave her presence or let her vanish off my sight?

Beneath are silhouettes of praise and wonders,

Of soft music, then suspense, lightning and thunders;

Would to God nature were a film show,

Full of life terrors, of horrors and hope,

Would I ever ever blink but to wrote my shady eyes?

Then if nature were me and I was beautiful nature,

If my anxiously hopeless moments trigger men and their pleasure;

Would I had continued radiating, being treated unfair?

I would never plead for humanity before God that He should have mercy;

Would to God I were nature, two third (and more) of whole earth would be in abyss!

Wicked souls they are.

© Denu Vour Bon



“Without technology, would there still exist birthday wishes?”
– Denu Vour Bon

It’s another day

And the sky is gay,

The tint in the atmosphere

Sets a stage for a band to play.

Something more better

And a level quite higher

Is what this day had brought,

As the Good Lord adds to the year of a brother.


Nothing special is happening,

The day is still as same

As other days in the year,

No change of name.

Today is his birthday

And the seventeen year old becomes eighteen,

But I have discovered

That our perception of birthdays is thin.

Dear well wishers read this:

Birthdays are days of letters,

Days you let loved ones know your heart;

These are the days of poetry,

Where with your words and punchlines you take the celebrant through great memories.

You know, birthdays are great days

And days to highly express relational love;

These are also special days,

And days to share folklore, fable or historic moonlight stories with the celebrant gazing to the skies above.

Such days as these, take the celebrant out.

It could be for a walk, a hike, a talk, a bike, a game, for the night or just to chill out.

Yea. Take him or take her to the park,

You could stop by some forest reserve…

Do you know what birthdays are like?

I doubt if you can decipher.

Birthdays are days of music,

Of genres like blues, some reggae and country;

Of walking along the sea shore

And of visiting a harbor.

These are days to go for an adventure

To see great natural sights and to observe some different culture;

And superb days they are

If they are celebrated with a knowledge, a truthful one, of God.

Dear celebrant, now is your turn;

Birthdays are no ordinary days

Neither are they of plays,

They are days to be critical

Because they are seasonal.

Days they are, filled with activities;

Yet are they days of planning and founding of new strategies (call them theories maybe).

This day, you’d sit down and be sober, having in your hands a pen and a paper,

And let your last year unfold in an imaginary screen before your eye.

Then you note your faults, mistakes, setbacks, failures, successes, achievements, and map out new strategies to carry out your newly drafted plan.

This you do early in the morning and just before bedtime.

Do know that this particular day

Should start with God in praise.

Birthdays are days, if I’m permitted,

To be free from work, whether school’s, office’s, or that of business.

It’s a day to journey to a holiday resort,

And a day, a Sabbath unto the Lord.

It’s also a day to read letters

And to revel in the expression of love of your well-wishers.

These are also days for you to love

And to make friends different from those you knew before;

Days of solitary confinement

And yet days of great enjoyment.

Funny days they are,

Days of contrasts.

Birthdays are more than phone calls

That lack truthful expression of emotions,

Neither are they limited to uploading social media statuses

That are deceptive in definitions.

Birthdays are more than changing the name of a group to the celebrant’s,

And don’t mistake expression of love during birthdays for the number of wishes via chats,

For birthdays are more than that!

I hope we now know what a birthday is?

© Denu Vour Bon



“As I made ready to sail oversea
I saw him whom I once loved and adored…”
-Denu Vour Bon

Credit: WhatsApp Screenshot

A gentle hum

And the breeze blew slightly…

Again the night was still

And a few fading silhouettes at the background.

The stars in the sky graced the occasion

And the clouds were attentive to the meeting the moon had called.

It was a council.

It bursts my brain…

Amidst the calmness;

I could hear the voice of ciga through my nose,

I could see the shadows telling me a prose,

And via the corner of my eye, I could smell the tree’s blossoms.

Then I see a boy,

Deep in the words of his thoughts,

Folded together at the end of a corner.

He was waiting…

Waiting patiently for me…

Waiting for me to fade away…

To fade away from his sight via the sea.

Can I help it?

His eyes are filled with tears,

Shadowed with fears,

For he’d surely miss me.

Gradually is time fading.

No one sees his shivering thoughts

As the cold break through his skin’s dots.

Could I ever leave him?

I need to move on, so it is necessary.

“Wait!” He caught me

“Yes,” I shook a bit as I tried to hide my own fears and tears.

The sea was a wild sea, and it boisterous storms could cost me years.

“Denu…” He shivered and his teeth struck hard atop each other.

“Denu… Denu…” This time he could no longer cover the violence of the storms he’d suffered,

The disaster in his procrastinations,

The scars of his mistakes,

The troubles of the confusion he had faced

And the years he made waste.

He was deeply drowned in the sorrow of his laziness,

Of the pain he strived to put away,

Of the life he wanted to drop but couldn’t,

Of the evil thoughts that almost never stopped attacking.

He could no longer whisper but tears,

Nor could he talk but fears,

Or drop a lovely kiss as he bid me farewell.

All he could do was to stand there shaking

And weeping and fumbling and freezing.

But I waited.

I waited to hear his words,

The last words of this seventeen year old.



And yet silence.

This boy is wasting my time,

But I ain’t going away.

I’m waiting right here.

I got all the time to wait,

Only that time wouldn’t wait.

Then I looked back at him and told this fading image of me

“Denu, enough of the tears, crying and fears.

I thought you said you believe in God.

Cast off from yourself all these cares,

And talk to me.

The ship is soon to sail…

Tell me what you have to say.

I pray.”

Then the seventeen year old boy looked up at me,

Seems like I’d grown an inch taller than what I used to be,

And he smiled…

A weak, pale, deep smile.

And his tears cried but he didn’t sob.

He told me

“Denu,… Denu,” you could see the austerity in his voice as he tries to be calm.

“Hold on a while longer while I speak.”

“OK, no problem.” I replied.

“Don’t be me when you cross over the sea,

Be a changed person.

Take a clue from the life I’d lived,

Learn serious lessons from it.

Don’t procrastinate

Neither should you give yourself to laziness.

Learn to give priority to things,

Learn to be principled.”

He coughed out some spittle

And hid his face away a while.

Myself couldn’t bare my tears,

As darkness shadowed the night.

“Denu, stop being money conscious

And start being proactive in your thoughts.

Denu, I advice you to leave the childhood corner

And behave as one that is matured.

Be cultured and nurtured

Fashioned according to God’s words.

Take hold of each hour of the day

And let each moment pass with something worth my embrace.”

He smiled now.

“You’re leaving me this night.

Oh! What a wonderful being you are.

Never thought I’d meet a being like you.

I’d known you only for a year,

But you’ve been very open minded

And you hid nothing from me.

Be the best you can be

And make sure to keep a memory of me…

Your little boy.”

He giggled as the last drop of stream full tears walked down his eyes.

I joined the sacredness of the moment and I whispering cried,

“I love you Denu” and said goodbye.

As the new year’s ship roared over the late night storms,

I heard a little squeak, from his mouth via his voice,

Of “goodbye friend, and be good,

Denu loves you too”

GMT+1 2329


© Denu Vour Bon



“Before you raise suspicious eyebrows, do you care to know that my dad is this small god I’m talking about?”

Challenging were those blessed wonderful times

When dad took in mom as wife,

Prophecies came and that upon that

That their marriage would not last.

Well, thanks be to God now

The marriage is still firmly rooted on Christ the solid ground.

That’s just by the way.

There is an important event occurring today.

Though I came in late to give my report,

That I be forgiven is my last resort.

The event is that of the celebration of a being,

A very special one indeed.

He it is whom I call my small god,

For he was he who showed my to God.

My dad, Mr Emmanuel Olalekan Aduramomi,

The one who has spoken God’s mind to me,

I don’t know how much to thank you for all your care,

Love and affection towards we, your children.

Dad had pitched his tent small

Yet he had accommodated all.

I might had never known God

If dad did not take me to church.

Dad is never the Almighty God,

But God had given him a voice.

Dad is he who runs into debts to sponsor his so many children,

Though he has just a biological soon and three girls.

My dad is my counselor

And he had not failed to be my pastor.

He is my first known father

Before I knew I was given him off my God, the Father.

He is the best motivator I’d ever seen

And he had not failed to be sharp and blunt where needs be.

Daddy, if I were to continue writing,

The world, I don’t if I’m exaggerating,

Would not be able to contain what I have to say

And wish thou on your birthday.

Happy birthday dad.

Long live you and your wife.


A Christian is a small god. John 10:34,35

Denu Vour Bon

GMT +1 2238 hours


Credit: Screenshot on Instagram @purgetraumapoet


We are buried into these gadgets that there exist no more time for real business
– Denu Vour Bon

Hear my cry oh August,

For this is getting to be a disgust…

There’s no one interested in reading.

Credit: Screenshot on Instagram @purgetraumapoet

Everyone now seem to be a Yahoo boy.

Locked up they are into their phones

That none had considered making more wise inventions than drones…

We are all captive of this,

And we disgust me more when we say our future lie within the path created by the electronic…

Long heard of are the stories of new discoveries,

Of mind blowing theories from people like Albert Einstein and Isaac Newton.

We’ve forgotten that the phone came into being when Graham Bell

Sought for easy and faster to communicate his girl.

Oh Hello!

I ain’t calling you dear reader but

I remember Graham’s girlfriend’s +denote,

Even her very name.

Now also I call your name,

That you do something recurring;

Something more logical and relational than being an administrator on WhatsApp.

Credit: Screenshot on Instagram @purgetraumapoet

Go into the den of your heart and find out what should be your act,

Even your part in this life of ours.

Do something.

Something more than just typing random quotes for us to read everyday;

Something more than posting YouTube videos that I download on vidmate.

Something better

And more relational.

Oh August,

Hear my cry!

Oh let me do something out of the box!

Then, only then, I would be satisfied.

+denote: this is a verb that means to indicate or mark. A name on the other hand is a word that indicates or marks something. In the connect above, denote is used as a noun instead of the verb it is known to be. This was so done to follow the rhythmic flow of the poem. Hence, I propose that English scholars legalize that the word “denote” be used both as a verb and as a noun. If there are any otherwise considerations, please send your thoughts via comments below @, or send a mail to


©Denu Vour Bon



“Oh! How technology have taken us out of the reality of this connectedness and deep within our bones, we cry out for an entente – a cordial entente.”
– Denu Vour Bon

Do I have a friend?

Yea, I once had

During the times letters thrived

When by my writing materials one could tell if I were sorrowful or glad.

Those were good times.

Days when you could relate with the mind of your ¹amiga

And he could read your words like he is speaking to your hologram;

Days when love was more relational.

Those were the days when there were no secrets.

Where would you hide them anyways?

The days you could freely express your feelings

When you could easily be saved from going astray.

What’s your weakness now oh friend?

I doubt if anymore I know.

You now have a best friend,

And I don’t feel important anymore.

When she is weak, you charge her up

While you forget that I’m in need of your assistance too.

When she’s down and laid up in coma,

You foam and shout and behave so irrational.

I thought you said I was your friend.

I thought we called ourselves besties and pals.

I thought I nicknamed you ²Kamerad

And came straight to you whenever I was burdened in my heart..

I thought…

But now you’re no more.

You’ve faded from existence in the den of my being.

I consider you to be just another silhouette

In the shadows of my thoughts.


You ask me why?

You have made a ³bewegungslos to take over my part in you.

You’ve replaced me for something, not someone, else.


I have replaced you too.

Yea, also with things that don’t breath:

My pen, pencil and my book;

And with the Almighty, the Breath of Life.

He is a friend indeed.

Happy friendship day.

© Denu Vour Bon


¹amiga: Spanish for friend

²Kamerad: German for friend

³bewegungslos: German for inanimate



“We excuse ourselves, our faults, our wrongs, our sins under the clause ‘everyone is a thief or criminal,’ thus we deny ourselves of the perfection we could get in our God through Jesus His Son.”

– Denu Vour Bon

Credit: Youtube

This is Nigeria,

Everybody be criminal:

Politicians, religious leaders, pastors

And all of their followers.

Well, this is Nigeria

Where there are no good intentions;

Where the truth have been ruffled,

Confusions in religion.

This is Nigeria,

Where belief is key;

‘Twas here a well-known musician

Sung that everyone is a thief.

Democracy have been corrupted

So we say politics is a dirty game,

But all of these contortions

Are faults under our names.

The constitution had been long stated,

The law is made plain

And yet we go against its truth

And still desire democracy.

It starts from the home,

Then it features in our examination centers.

From here it graduates into students’ association, clubs and societies

And finally into political parties.

These are problems untouched,

Leavens not cut off.

And they grow till we cannot contain anymore.

Lol! Everybody be criminal,

An excuse for justice.

He says that phrase

Only because he’s also guilty.

This is the foundation of deceit

And it won’t ever bring peace.

We excuse our lies for teasing,

Our thefts for “that’s the normal thing.”

We excuse rape for love;

We sell puberty and mensuration pads for money

And in our medical campaigns, we give condoms out for free,

But we’ve forgotten that there are those in the ghettos

Who cannot afford our prices.

We expect a change

And remain unchanged.

We want a united culture,

But remain uncultured.

Worst still it is

When you’re approached with the concerns of your eternity

And you feign being wise claiming no one is perfect.

Dare you mention ‘everybody be criminal?’

How could you?

Wisdom they think they have,

Uncultured, degenerate beings;

Covering their shame and doom,

Excusing their sins.

No other way of change exist than to start from you.

And change from you start by accepting the sacrifice of One that created you,

Who died on the old rugged cross to take away your guilt

And to remove hypocrisy.

His name is Jesus.

He died that Nigeria be delivered from being criminal.

© Denu Vour Bon



“In my own little corner I am the only one that exist in the world. Yea. There are no newborns. No deaths. Nobody exist. All these in the den of my heart.”

– Denu Vour Bon

Credit: Pinterest @MyFavoriteWallpaper


Oh wow!

What a beauty is she!

See her face glow of radiant beams.

Oh my!

How comely is he!

One cannot stop but revel over the masculinity of his physique.

You know what?

I’m complicated.

Yea, I discovered that no one really cares.

I am the one that is famous for good virtues,

Even if I’m infamous with regards your code of virtues still hear me out;

For an important matter is being discussed,

You don’t want to miss out.

Credit: Pinterest

When each morning I move out of my abode

And into the streets via the ghettos,

I’m like the prince and like the haughty-walking daughter of the king.

Except for some occasional moments of sober reflection

(Which soon pass on till we meet again),

I am on top of the world.

It is I who cheer people up.

It is I who put a smile on your face.

It is I who had brought you out of distress.

It is I who cared for you in sickness.

It is I.

I was there.

But in my den,

In the deep of my thoughts

And on the platform of my mind,

I only exist.

Credit: Pinterest

I seem to be a lost being.

I seem to be headed for nowhere.

I seem to be in the midst of vast voidness.

Ain’t I forgotten?

The tables are turning against me.

And no human being sees it.

Or are they being wicked?

Are they just cruel?

Well, I have concluded that

In this space,

Whatever be it name,

Only me exist as a human being.

Yea. No one else.

Credit: Pinterest

And that’s why I’m a lone ranger,

Fighting through the shadows till dawn.

What is worst still

Than to have the understanding that all others,

Deep within themselves,

Seem to be forgotten?

While I fix myself on Christ’s outstretched arms

Every time I go down this path,

I’ve observed that many have been consumed by these shadows of life.

Actually now, they had forgotten themselves in these shadows;

And while they seem to succeed,

They are lost beings.

“It’s personal,” they’d say;

“Mind your business,” another would pray:

All in a bid to cover the tears of their spirits,

Whilst they remain forgotten…

© Denu Vour Bon



Sleepy head wake up!

Credit: Pinterest @deviantart

Just a little more sleep won’t kill

You’re so worked up already.

Ding! Dong!! Ding! Dong!!

There the alarm goes banging;

“It’s time now, oh Junior, to wake up.”

Then would sleep say, “You don’t want to miss this part of your dream’s song.”

It is characteristic of all

For work is against nature.

Just a little more sleep, then a little slumber,

A little folding of arms to sleep in broad daylight.

A little “I’m not doing it now,”

And an iota of “there’s still much time.”

A little more of these little foxes,

Then would the vineyard be turned into a dunghill.

Laziness her name is called,

For she obeys no principle.

She is a seductress, oh my, and a hot beauty,

But underneath her skirts is the bottomless pit.

Oh by means of her whorishness

A man is reduced to a crunch of bread.

Laziness hey name is called

Laziness indeed.

Do not delight in her pleasure,

It is destructive.

It all starts from a little sleep,

Then a little slumber,

Even just a little folding of the arms to sleep.


GMT +1 2348 hours


Denu Vour Bon



The moon is sad today,

Yet none noticed her deep sighs,

Yesterday she didn’t surface,

None cared to ask her why.

No one saw the moon in her gloom,

In the genital pain that, across her face, loomed;

No one saw her tears running down

Though they look at her, as they share moonlight tales, dressed as a clown.

The moon ain’t glowing tonight

You didn’t acknowledge her sighs.

Yesterday she was as black

Yet you cared not know why.

One by one they passed caring less of what she felt

Having no affection for nature’s wealth.

One by one they gathered

To sit and laugh at twilight; when the moon is sad…

20th/21st July, 2019

© Denu Vour Bon



“What is happening?

Why is everyone crying?”

Unanswerable questions ran through my mind

As I ventured to uncover the window’s blind.

“I can’t hold onto this curtains;

Maybe the window is just plain…

I guess I framed up window blinds in my imagination

It is possible I have not woken up from my hallucinations.”

I turned around and headed for the bed,

It was then I discovered I was also lying there…

“How can this thing be?

Was I born a twin?”

I looked over to the man in bed

And soon the nurses came to cover his head,

So I had to think again,

Why that man was so lain.

None could answer as before

Neither was there any that heard my call,

I just was there unnoticed

I was just as invisible as a viz.

“Love, it is me your husband,

I was he who gave you that wristband,

Wait! Don’t you recognize me?

I’m your husband, you call me honey…”

My arguments continued, they were endless

No one noticed all my gestures and futile attempts,

So I went back to the bed

And tried to force me into myself in bed…

Then I knew that was the end

Would I be able to my new life blend?

Soon I was transfigured

And I appeared in white before God.

Wait! Is this real, am I dead?

So those sayings of the Bible were rightly said;

I am being judged and found faultless

See me glowing with a glory that’s flawless…

Then I saw the world

Well-wishers all crying and weeping on the floor…

Again, I saw a group of fiery men

Praying earnestly and fervently over the dead

That the man may be raised back to life

So that he might be a comfort to his wife.

I ran back to the third heavens

And I sought the face of the Lord of the heavens

That their prayers be not answered

I don’t want to go back.

“Let me stay here in this place

It is nice to hang around and pace

Through the walkways of heaven

Whose foundations are more than seven.”

So I was buried,

Dead but living.

GMT+1 0929 hours


© Denu Vour Bon



Lurking round the forbidden sanctuary

Gathering sticks of knowledge about

Looking willy-nilly for food

For the eyes and for scuttle-butt for the mouth

“Achan, don’t go there I say” mother warns

“Don’t worry, I’d be back in seconds

And off he betook himself

And if he ever came back, he’d share of his plight’s cunts.

The wise one said: “Idle man get a job, see your friends’ a’gone for war…”

The fool replies: “Yea, just a little moment of rest I need and soon I’d be affront the war.”

The king rolled up his apparel and curled up in bed

Soon he was bored up and needed fresh air…

Off he went up the pavement and saw was eyes called “beautiful

And pity as I write, his kingdom is rent a’two

© Denu Vour Bon
GMT+1 1638 hours


Credit: Pinterest @paulamichellewhite

Credit: Pinterest @alogico


Just five minutes and the world would be in chaos

Then you’ll see the church goers clinge to mountains shouting “fall on us”.

Their pastors are together with them,

Alas! Their eyes are opened to see the deception in them!

The prophets who are liars together with their prophetesses,

And the apostles who through vain words soled the Lord’ teachings

With that evangelist that preach fables and not the truth,

All are now gathered to face the +brute.

The world is set into pandemonium,

There could no longer be decorum!

Parents running for their lives and children hiding their heads,

Now is doom written on their foreheads!

Seven years would be fulfilled and he that would not receive the mark

Would be denied of food, the beast’s soldiers always down their track!

Not a safe place to hide exist

Any who would get to heaven would dace the cruelty of the beast!

Men and the church world would know this in five minutes.

© December 2018

Feranmidenu Favour Ogunbona

+ the brute here is the Antichrist. Before you raise a brow, the word brute could be used as a noun!



She needs just five minutes

And oh! What corruption lies ‘neath her blouses!

Just give her a second

And you’ll know this sister was never called of God!

Oh! She was the president of her campus fellowship

But how did she into hell slip?

See the lady that would blast out, speaking in tongues

Now groaning in hell together with the demons!

None ever thought she could be into sin

But now is she in hell #rejoicing!

Hear the brethren say “What a fervent sister!

Hard to believe she was actually devil’s sister!

Wait! Her skirts were an open cheque,

She’ll leave the pulpit and go open wide her leg!

Her sin partner, that fervent brother, was at her burial

He remembered all these and her fate and he cried.

He knew it would not take five minutes.

© December 2018
‘Feranmidenu Favour Ogunbona

*#rejoicing* here is an irony.


Credit: Pinterest

Credit: Pinterest


At stake! Eyes at wake!
A shock greater than that of an earthquake
As the world wonders “what has happened?”
A phenomenon had occurred which science has no explanation;
A third party of her population disappeared into Bermuda triangle?

Philosophers around the world would gather,
Logics and their reasoning would confuse over and over;
Then, what would science do, astronomers, observers of time or atheists?
Stupefaction would grope all,
“Unnormal” would come out as a new word.

Follow the lines, the height of unnormality
Then would history attest the claim of a Divinity.
The thought of the disappearing leaving men in dismal shock the next seven years:
Then would one come to wrought the more confusion;
Anti-Christos, venerated as God!

Hear me out; “life would go on,”
Ha ha ha ha ha ha, undeep laughters covering a mourn.
While the beast’s false prophets go about deceiving many more,
Two under would come back to this surface
With power from many generations, witnessing of perdition & grace.

The two witnesses, Enoch & Elijah,
Two powerful Es that would cause Anti-Christos to sigh,
Standing with an authority that had never & can never more manifest,
Performing miracles devils cannot learn,
Proclaiming & prophesying of doom the next seven years.

Some instagrammers would watch their execution
An online trend that would go viral within seconds.
Then would Anti-Christos convince presidents of nations to battle at Armageddon,
A typical rebel of Satan and his angels against God,
Only to be wiped out, at Christos coming, in one word.

Don’t sit just there and wait for the unnormal,
Don’t take a risk that you don’t deserve.
This world is bound to encounter unnormalities & it likes,
My advice this very minute
Is that you get connected to Safety.

© May 2019
Denu Vour Bon


The true story behind what hppens after death

Photo Credit: Yinka Adebayo

“What is happening?

Why is everyone crying?”

Unanswerable questions ran through my mind

As I ventured to uncover the window’s blind.

“I can’t hold onto this curtains;

Maybe the window is just plain…

I guess I framed up window blinds in my imagination
It is possible I have not woken up from my hallucinations.”

I turned around and headed for the bed,

It was then I discovered I was also lying there…

“How can this thing be?

Was I born a twin?”

I looked over to the man in bed

And soon the nurses came to cover his head,

So I had to think again,

Why that man was so lain.

None could answer as before

Neither was there any that heard my call,

I just was there unnoticed

I was just as invisible as a viz.

“Love, it is me your husband,

I was he who gave you that wristband,

Wait! Don’t you recognize me?

I’m your husband, you call me honey…”

My arguments continued, they were endless

No one noticed all my gestures and futile attempts,

So I went back to the bed

And tried to force me into myself in bed…

Then I knew that was the end

Would I be able to my new life blend?

Soon I was transfigured

And I appeared in white before God.

Wait! Is this real, am I dead?

So those sayings of the Bible were rightly said;

I am being judged and found faultless

See me glowing with a glory that’s flawless…

Then I saw the world

Well-wishers all crying and weeping on the floor…

Again, I saw a group of fiery men

Praying earnestly and fervently over the dead

That the man may be raised back to life

So that he might be a comfort to his wife.

I ran back to the third heavens

And I sought the face of the Lord of the heavens

That their prayers be not answered

I don’t want to go back.

“Let me stay here in this place

It is nice to hang around and pace

Through the walkways of heaven

Whose foundations are more than seven.”

So I was buried,

Dead but living.

GMT+1 0929 hours
© Denu Vour Bon


Credit: Pinterest

Credit: Pinterest


Her name is Bisi,
She’s just fourteen…
Underage immature girl,
She’s got her hymen broken.
She works as a sales girl
She sleeps under the bridge;
Every night after the robbers rob
Her vulva serve as sweet retreat.

Oh yes!
She looks pretty;
She’s not for sex,
She needs schooling!
Small girl with great hurts
She’d always cry “Where’s the good life promised us?”
She’s young,
She’s got innovations;
But no!
Who wants to pay for her examinations?
Her life from small
Had been filled with alcohol…

She laughs beaming with smiles,
But who cares to know she cries?
She comes and go,
Another citizen with no home!
She’s fourteen
Caught in robbery;
She stole
Because she needed money…
And she’s part of those with no choice
Than to sell their votes to afford buns.
She’s just fourteen
And she’s so sick.
The street calls outs!

© Denu Vour Bon
March 2019


Credit: Pinterest

Credit: Pinterest

Credit: Pinterest


The boy is sixteen
But the lord of the streets;
He doesn’t know love,
For he was born in slums.
He looks haggard, unkempt
Smoking Indian hemp.
Some say he’s the child of devil
And refer to him as evil.
He’s got a gang under him
Politicians order for him;
In the secrets they’d sign
An agreement to cut short lives.
His brother is death,
He’s been taught to hate health;
His lungs are blackened,
His heart’s been darkened.
But he’s just a child,
Once his mama’s pride…
But the time he was born
Was during independent corruption.
He’s just a lovely beautiful lad
Which corrupt government smacked hard.
Cult groups are on his track;
Friends they are, foes at his back.
He’s crying out,
His voice’s colded out;
Locked up, sixteen in prison
Condemned for no reason!
The boy is sixteen,
He’s never lived a teen.
All he wanted was joy,
His country was the wrong soil.
The street calls out!

© Denu Vour Bon
March 2019



The rose shone bright in sun;
When it rains, it takes on flesh.
At autumn, it is at its best,
Always pink, rosy and fresh.
Once it is broken before time,
It withers and dies;
Just a little slice,
And it soul would be lost to the skies.
I am the rose that was cut
And so must I die; my hymen’s broken,
I have been defiled.
I didn’t disobey God’s words, but do understand
That my marital bed is already defiled.
Weep not!

© Denu Vour Bon


A novel written by Denu Vour Bon coming up soon!


Just give him five minutes

And he would forget he ever had riches!

Just give him a second,

It is enough for him to regret his producing *bond.

Oh! It is the man that lived in great pleasures!

And oh no! He is now full of seizures!

Oh! It is that man who had no time to sigh!

Alas, he had found time to die!

Just a minute ago, his voice was heard

But now is his relatives gathered and sad!

So many nice things to sat about him,

“Rest in perfect peace” written in bold letters above him;

Not knowing that he was already in torment

Hell’s flood over him was more than a torrent!

The minute he got there he started crying😢…

Oh! See one who never wailed crying😢 bitterly!

© December 2018
‘Denu Vour Bon

*bond here means the coming together of the male and female tissues to produce an embryo… Hence *producing bond* impress the union that brought an individual into existence…


Mother Nature

She’s been watching me all along

And ensured I made myself strong…

At all times she’ll guide

And say, Junior stand here by my side.

When I slip and fall,

She’ll cry out and call

Neighbours to help Junior

Saying; ‘He is still young’

In the morning, her care is always greatest

She’ll take you out of the cradle and get the towels…

You are still yawning, she wishes you a welcome;

‘Junior at last have come.’

She’ll make the tea and bath you,

She’ll even take you to school;

Ensuring your security,

She would not go for mediocrity. . .

Afternoon comes,

She’ll yell at you to come!

She’ll shout: ‘Run else you’ll miss classes’

Then you’ll know life isn’t a bed of roses.

Running through each day errands,

You fall into different hands,

Mother Nature is at your back

But ignores and look to the other track.

At times, you’ll ponder

And begin to wonder

What type of mother she is, . . .

. . . No answers, just face your destiny.

Early afternoon horrors

Is followed by the late afternoon world. . .

Nature might not give you a job

Then you become and entrepreneur.

Through life’s hurdles,

You get confused. . .

You might wish to die,

But it is not yet time.

In the eventide,

Mother Nature is right back at your side,

She’ll sit by you till twilight

And tell you stories in the moonlight.

When the nightingales finish singing

And the churches bell stop ringing,

Mother Nature will sigh,

You’ll cry.

It’s actually of no use,

Since you can’t refuse

Mother Nature’s call to bed

Even if you plead with tears out of your head.

At last, . . . On your bed you’ll lay,

Humane but just clay. . .

Then, in the spirit world you’ll wander off

As your spirit leaves your remains to dry up.

Thus, Mother Nature finishes her job on you,

She continues her work, . . . And life continues without you.

#album, #Christianliterature, #literature, #poetry, #poets, #poems, #poema, #rhyme






Death, my love

Death, my love

When my works on Earth are fulfilled, 

And my years of life expired, 

When I need not pay no school fee, 

And my muscles are worn out and tired. 

Then I need you by my side

To take me to that wonderful height, 

Where there is no sorrow to hide;

Where I have to sing in light. 
Oh death, sorrow to many, 

Especially those that are femine

And those that have no family, 

Or maybe those that are caring. 

My plea to you is that

I want you to come when I am prepared, 

I am very sure that, 

One day I would die and that is the end. 



Our masters made us servants on our own land,
They treated us like the dog that does eat on the sand;
They made us work for them like filty slaves,
On our fatherland…

Our masters made us servants on our land,
They took our resources to the foreign land.                                  On a platter of gold, they stressed our fertile soil,

They killed the rebels with the gun in their hand,
They treated us bad.

To distinguish whites from blacks, they called us niggas.
When we die, it seemed nothing in their eyes,
They castrated our men, and made the women barren.
That was how we were treated in ancient times.

Among us, responsible ones sprang forth,
Learned, wise and people of great worth…
For our victory and liberty, they fought,
And many died on the journey to independence.

Notable ones like Chief Obafemi Awolowo,
Struggled along with Dr. Nmadi Azikwe,
Alhaji Tafawa Balewa always has something to say,
All of them moved on with a watchword:
‘Nigeria , our fatherland’.

Late Pa Taiwo Akinkunmi
When he saw there was need,
He designed the National Flag in 1956,
As his service to his beloved country.

October 1 1960,
Our masters declared us free to have our own government
Emphasising that we are now Independent!
Our own policies, they made us implement,
And now we are able to celebrate Independence.

It was a long walk to victory,
With challenges on the way,
But we thank God for this grace we see
To celebrate INDEPENDENCE.

BY: Ogunbona F. F
October 2nd 2016

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday

When I remembered thee on my bed
I discovered that others might have been dead
And you see today because of God’s grace unlimited
Yeah, God’s grace that never end.
It’s not by your might, neither do you have two heads,
But God in His infinite mercy gave you go ahead
To continue in this world, He gave you His living breath
To continue your life on planet Earth.
When you came to this world, most were jubilant;
Though you were crying, yet they didn’t mind
They even guarded you like a grand account,
And as you grew, they said you shouldn’t play with sand.
Girl you know today is August eighteen
And it’s been four years now when you became a teen
I know many a little your eyes have seen
And that is just why you came into being.

On this land, you have used 16 years,
I pray for you that many more years would come.
Even though in life, you have to shed tears,
Just know that your succeses they(the tears) serve like a gum.
In school, you are being taught simile
Yeah, they taught you along with hyperbole;
So don’t think I am exaggerating
Because God will take you to heights unlimiting.

All this blah blah and blah
I just wrote to say happy birthday
And also to show you I’m a friend indeed,
So that when you are in your times of need,
To me you can come and the problem say,
And you get encouraged, satisfied and go gay
Nurse Toluwani, I purposely composed this for you,
Yes, it is for you and only you.
Happy Birthday Bes

See yah…
By: Ogunbona Feranmi



We are working, but hardly are we working,
We sit in front of the systems and games are we playing
When the boss come around to check if we’re progressing
We in haste close the the games and go pretending
And form that we are working…

Later in life…
You are now a boss of your own;
You have apprentices in your care,
They behave as you did in the days of old,
And you call them ‘enemies that are not dear’.
Don’t forget you did that,
… they follow your steps
Brother Paul…
By: Ogunbona Feranmi F.


The alarm clicked…
6 O’Clock…
Sunshine streamed into your room,
Illuminated the covers of your bed.
You open your eyelids and see the broom;
Laid carelessly at the rooms end.                                                Not long, everything appeared to be in a zoom

And seem to be in a funny orange red,

You close your lids and open back again
And you see with no much gain say,
This your little, unchanging room again;
You have to go on your kneels and pray
And thank baba God once and again,
And also tell Him to bless your today.

It might be you will go through pain…
Tell Him to see you through the way
And make a way
Where there’s no way
So you could say with faith
‘I am gay’.
Good morning.

NICKS: Fehrozy Beluxe

Horrors Of The Night

Soon night fell…
And the day was forgotten
Even though you are well
You still sleep like a tin
Because night in authority yelled
And ordered you to sleep
Even when you wish to ring a bell
Night tells you to close your eyelids
In sleep.

When at last you sleep,
Night leaps…
Goes out,
Sees the Knight
And orders him that
no one should come out at night
Oh, how I wish it were daylight
Where we have freedom to decide
And to think of what will make us high…
Here we are lured to sleep
By Captain Night.
My brother, my sister… Sleep tight.

POEM BY: Denu Vour Bon