Author: Preciousjosh

My pen, my heart, my mind, a blend of symbiotic intimacy.

Stream of my Hurt

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It was the sleep of my pain,

Boredom to the eyes of my mind

Innocently plagued by words

My heart was in a hurry to laugh

So much, so little

Much knowledge making my world dizzy

I struggle with the molecule of my biology

No one dares to believe mere opinions

Yet so convincing is the history of labelled organisms

Gene against gene; the war of microbial intelligence

Alas, it is no choice in freedom

Destiny was given a vague definition in brief eternity

The beginning of an ending

Everyone listening for the treasure of scores

Well, all my ribo hear the voice of a transfer

It’s no D or N that makes an A relevant

All I want is to keep my cosmos simple and free

Striking taps of buttons

Intimidating the loneliness of my simplicity

My hand never mind, do what only your eyes cry out for

Write out the letters of your heart

Never care if you are all alone

Besides, your before, during and after are all up to you and you alone.

A Clockwise Life in a Timeless World

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A bright afternoon under a breathing tree,

Given life by the smile of the beautiful sun,

Imagining that I was time and time was me,

What power in my hands to define the meaning of life,

Yet made by One beyond my boundaries,

It’s no contest to believe I am more significant,

Without a connection to my ancient history,

Why do I fail to understand the horizon of my brevity,

A moment my pen gives life to my thoughts,

My eyes screamed the words of my heart,

As I beheld all creatures speak to my curiosity,

Fading away with the gripping hands of seconds,

Now let me count my walking minute,

As the hours hilariously whisper to my aging heart,

That I am living a clockwise life in a timeless world.

No Dying Dreams

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Dreams outside the space of time,

Never on bended knees to reason,

Neither on standing feet to purpose,

Yet, it’s no will to believe it’s just a wish,

Rootless without a defined course or route,

Is my destination in pictures, a reflection of my joy,

Why am I so ignorant of a chance to truly live,

Torn apart by many opinions, diverse perceptions,

This isn’t the me created… this is just helpless clay trying to make sense,

Pulled out of the womb of pain,

Told that there was some ancient prophecy without a voice,

All in a moment, my time walks with a waving hand,

Soon stops to give me a long, careless hug,

Amid its rush towards meeting its ancestors called eternity,

Oh, that my ignorance knew its worth but not its place,

Knowing that “I don’t know” speaks peace to peace,

A reflection of my identity in one beyond the skies,

My dream still lives because death is alien to its reality.

The Sweet Pain of my Perception

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Such a view of an undulating universe, the stars singing to the melody of photons;

Not scared or intimidated to shine in quite beautiful darkness;

It’s never an “anyone for himself” in the outer cosmos,

Rather a connection beyond the definition of gravity;

Would I have wished to be among the constellations;

All embedded in a blend of uninterrupted serenity;

What a privilege to behold the majesty of a misunderstood dimension without a voice for an explanation;

By chance, I would earn a minute conversation with nature itself.

Would I dare to ask “Are these all about you alone”? Should I believe so?

Indeed, faith to believe in nothing or even in something, either way, is a risk to believe in anything;

What an oceanic risk, everyone asserts a belief, now and beyond;

Yet a Being treated with absolute unapologetic disdain seemingly without a logical voice?

Must I defend something or “someone” with an abstract rationale?

Ja, let me choose rhema after logos in the fullness of bio and technikos;

This is the sweet pain of my perception.

No One Knows

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A shocking day arrives on my timeline,

My mind was in a state of a raging storm,

Many thoughts wrestling for visibility,

All challenged by the gravity of my reality,

Even the vicinity sings boring songs,

And my eyes have become a collapsed dam,

Earthquakes of imaginations rattle my brain cells,

And no one knows why we are but silent talkers,

Is everything supposed to be true?

What if all were a deception of my cranial neurons?

Lies very true than the truth of my personality?

No surprise no one hears the screams of my heart,

Crying out loud, every day searching for a couple of peace and purpose,

A journey of lightyears in a few days,

And soon everything will be calm and yet no one knows.

Patient to learn

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In the atmosphere of my mind flew a flock of thoughts,

Reason seems to swim in the ocean of my consciousness,

While sitting with many estudiantes in the belly of a designed giant,

With crowded specks of light running a beautiful race,

Just outside the handsome skins of glass across the wall,

As we listen to a passionate voice of a chica,

Our diversity muttering unity to the tyranny of knowledge,

Many were voiceless to the sincerity of their boredom,

Yet play the game of Latin smile and a burst of Nigerian laughter,

In desperation for a koinonia with Espanyol,

Lips dancing to the beat of language,

Just when laughter decides to spray its perfume everywhere,

Nuevo logos entertains us with good frustration,

Everyone enjoys a moment in time.

While the future waits for us to arrive,

Nevertheless, we will be patient to learn.

Too Young to Cry?

~ Preciousjosh ~ 10 Comments

A young boy cries and no one asks why?

What a beautiful morning to receive an invitation in the living mailbox of my being;

It was a call from the royal chambers of history, a beckoning to attend a symposium of thoughts;

What a radical diversity to watch races of feelings all gallantly dressed in the attires of a rich past;

Uber, what a moment to click the start button of my tear gland with an electric impulse of sight;

A beholding of a gorgeous thought smeared all over with a fragrance of pain, deep pain;

Soon, she approached me with a smile and took me for a walk through the woods of my past;

A strange morning indeed it was for a little child loved beyond love itself by a selfless mother;

To take a glance at his true jewel on bended knees of silent pain and sudden lameness;

Is this happening? My only mother precisely struck with a dart of stroke;

A supposed roadblock in an innocent neuron within the city of her precious brain;

Her bulgy eyes of red collide with my watery channels of sight, a message sent to me;

“I love you, son” remains the undeniable picture of her wildered countenance;

The doors of my ears flung open to the faintest voice in my cosmos “Call your Dad for me”;

My emotional adrenaline charged up, my body quickened by grief, and my feet put to flight;

Soon, a myriad of dark days and bright nights, my young heart in the cradle of daily sorrows;

“Why, just why my mother?”, the naïve cry of love echoes through the dimensions of time,

Indeed the universe wailed with a loud voice saying “this boy is too young to cry”.

A View in Time

~ Preciousjosh ~ 3 Comments

Göttingen

Within the tiny speck of a force-dependent world, 
One life which is a million too small, 
Valued by the power of many oxygen atoms, 
All riding on the resonating sound of a breathing flute, 
A furious odour dancing recklessly around two huge hairy caves, 
Amused by the resilience of a gentle heart intimidated by shameless beauty, 
Its crowded imaginations zigzagging to the tune of fear, 
While hungry pigeons don’t care to twirl towards creamy ice, 
Wondering why two energies sat side by side, 
A bell singing, a castle on guard, yet the universe is aware, 
That there’s glamour in the eternal harmony of selfless love, 
Whose melody makes sense to none but all, 
Eyes clashing, hearts discussing, words colliding, 
The end from the beginning is no one’s concern, 
The moment is the priority… living now than past or future, 
Still, all prisoners of silent time who chuckle at our pride of comfort, 
Nothing new to the constellations, same old story: 
Everyone, everything, is but one little mystery travelling into history.

The world of my lab

~ Preciousjosh ~ 8 Comments

It’s a new day as a special gift,

Friends valuable than gold I see,

Memories of mind too new to be old,

Families of tubes with a glance of hope,

A hope of a discovery to be made,

No identification beyond helpless time,

Still the joy of a bouncing DNA in a PCR machine,

Tiny life itself in the dock of a pipette,

The mighty hands seeking wisdom,

Why all these troubles,

Voiceless winged creatures die a martyr,

But do we care more than dare?

Our true balance is tipped over by the ego of knowledge,

A strive for survival without a revival,

Alas, it is the gain of her pain,

All behind the scene of fame,

It’s no rain too heavy for happiness,

That all life is made unfairly judged,

In the distant land of fear,

Everything is but brief,

All within the world of my lab.