The Untouchable Irrelativity of the Past Future


If there is one lie you should never tell my heart,

Is that Fantasy is unrealistic.

Why is it that anytime she touches anything I do, my heart skips?

Should I continually deny her touch?

Prophecies are endless,

Everyday is new,

Words are breaking forth,

Yet there is no new propaganda!


If the future is this bleak to my eyes, then I PRAISE GOD and acknowledge HIS ALMIGHTINESS

His thoughts are not our thoughts,

I’m not planning on knowing them but He his relentless,

His voice,

Such hope,

My soul cleaving,

My spirit hanging,

My body changing,

My heart melting,

Please, speak to me clearly!

Oh! Is it just the euphoria of infatuation?

My nerves jacks anytime she touches me,

Or, I’m I still bound in this timesless prophecy?




Image Credits: 123RF

If she is the picture of the future,

She sure looks like a Sleeping Beauty yet to awake from her eternal slumber…

If she is the picture of the future, then why is the Present ugly?

Why are there so many decisions to make with so very little time on the variability of seasons?
The picture of the modelling lady above is being used as a metaphor or figurative design of the picture of the future in this article.
The Present doesn’t seem like she is adding up to the future we always envision when we day dream. Any man not caught in this web of dreams is not living.
The Pressures in the Present are ironically the same pressures of the future but it is from a different angle, that’s why the future is always unpredictable.
No one can tell the exactness of the future because the present runs in a flux of mirage from the past, therefore, tell me, who can prophecy unto us if an earthquake will shake our faith in times to come?
There was an Hurricane in Texas, U.S.A and their scientists did well to predict many facts and even deaths but I realized that there was no bold record in specific details of the hurricane event before it happened.

If she is the picture of the future, then it is time to war!!!
Such an honor for the future to be unpredictable, such a misery for man to be ignorant of. That is why the problem of the future is her BEAUTY.
Any ugly future hasn’t passed through the process of pain and she is a baby: process of pain which brings about maturity, and maturity, which is the design of any beautiful future.
If she is the picture of the future, then we better be weary and let our heart faints at any sounding silver line in the sweetests of Prophecies. For who can tell if the Sun would rise without a prophecy, or is there any need?
Listen, if you always view the future to be this beautiful, then get prepared for the painful process, the hurtful crafting of the CRAFTSMAN, that hard hitting of the blacksmith,

Beauty may be vain but never cheap. A vain beauty lacks the process, its just as good as fake, but we know Google cannot find a virtuous woman of incomparable beauty!
These words paint a picture, but your perspective is what matters. 

Again I say, if the she is the picture of the future, then it is time to war!!!

Even if we attain this beautiful future, 


Like your beautiful wife or finance or girlfriend, seductions will come her way, and like I read in a Good Book, the Holy Bible,

She said, “Wisdom is a defence and money is a defence…”

She is one book that doesn’t condole laziness and idleness. 

If she is the picture of the future,

What wars lies ahead?

What wisdom is surely needed?

What money is there left to be spent?

If she is the beautiful picture of the future!!!
© Adedeji Writes.

Sharon and the BIG PICTURE [Seven Perfect Lines] Series Three

Sharon refuses to slumber at the sight of the Sun in eclipse, Her sight reaches the core of the Sun in her royal purple glory,

Sharon eyes are envied by the Eagles, they ponder the strength of her wings, and her attire is her wings,

She takes her flight, if she takes her flight, across the reflected sea of the coloring Sun, where will she set her feet,

Her Glory is dependent, her Prince is not independent, at the most, not yet, but she awaits his coming,

Dreams like myhts are better than day dreaming, but her Prince rebukes her nightmares,

Day after day, reality wakes from her slumber for Sharon to take her pick of the future to see the big picture,

Her Prince is named after the King, their future lays in probability, surely the Eagles and Sharon are picking the pieces of the big picture.



Sharon At The Edge (Seven Perfect Lines) Series Two

Sharon takes two step,

Edging closer to faith,

She’s heard the Clarion call of her Prince,

Her heart is gladdened, yet, her Prince, breaking hard constraints,

His Ship is ready, but Freedom has rules,

His desire is light on his princess for lack of waves to beat his ship to Havilah wherein is his prowess of love…


#adedeji #sharon

Sharon At The Edge (Seven Perfect Lines)

Time bags the Grammy Award for being the most Mysterious Thing ever.

Sharon can’t tell the difference between time and a wrist watch.

At the edge of her long awaited desire, she slumbers,

At the pace of the invincible foot steps, she shudders,

Her heart in quite test, her desire in open check,

Who can whisper to her the silent words of the prophecy

Ancient landmarks can’t be removed, of what use is change?

Long Awaited Poetry (My Third World, My Monologue)


(I saw the wife of the devil)


I had a dream I shouldn’t have had. I slept into a sleep I shouldn’t have reawakened from.

I opened a chapter that was reserved for night mares. I saw enigma in strict communion with mystery, while misery was their host.

While the day was hot, I focused on fantasies, while it was yet a cool evening, I should have repented from them, but they were better than my realities.

I tasted the fog. I released the frog of confusion into the night. Children would curse me if they awake from their sleep, for I have sent them into the captivity of their childhood dreams.

My mother is to blame.

My step-mother is a witch. My mother is the Mummy of witches.

So I kept a diary in vastness of my boredom to relinquish the happiness of fun. By gone are the days of wizards, by gone are the days magic, by gone are the day’s spells and portions.

Don’t judge me because I don’t have a name. Don’t look down on me because I said I will live in the valley forever.

If you search the Hills, there you will find me, If you search the West, you will find me to be the Queen of the Coast.

I have no relations with the East, but my son is from there. Don’t judge me.

My words are for the mighty, so if you are a weakling, toss me the coin of Ceaser the great. If indeed you are mighty, bring me his head a silver platter. I, if I curse the days of Lucifer, heaven shall be my foe.

To say I saw him, fall like lightning from heaven, you will need to forgive me. Curse is his wife and their children.

She came into my dream.

I saw her, yes, she saw me.

We spoke, she trembled, she voiced out her threats but I wasn’t moved. She mothers the bitches I know so I wish them grave prayers for their whoredom.

I am what you say I am, but I am not what you think I am. So chew on your thoughts, bite your fingers, for I have arrived!


My Diary should speak but her unfaithful words against the moment of my delivery relinquished my trust for her.

I should have had a wonderful day at the heart of the famous City of Tears but Nemesis caught up with me.

I was arrested to go to the Jail of Retribution. Then I found fault when I by passed the Court of Law of Retribution.

I laughed within me.

on my way to Jail, I scorned her that called herself Justice, for she is deceit.

After a decade in Jail, I came out a monster, yes, that monster you see in your dreams. I was jailed for a crime I didn’t commit.

What was my crime? That I cried in the City of Tears!

Life is a Crime if you do not commit a crime, don’t take my words for it because everyone is a potential criminal.

I am not your Mentor, don’t follow me.

Today is my Four hundred and Tenth birthday, should I curse the day I was born, should I curse that day again.

For today, I had seen the wife of the devil and my witch diary is not full, satisfaction is far from her.

The wife of the devil, she is beautiful, every man’s dream, the desire of every woman, in the soul of every child.

Those that kept the whip from their wards will eventually entertain her, the wife of the devil.

She creates the dresses that we wear but the devil wears Prada.

You will find her at the top of every mountain, at the gate of every city, at the tits of every harlot.

A good man once sent her to the Isles of her beast, the devil, but Wickedness released from the shackles but it will only last for a season.

Series One…

#davelstots ©