It all started with me saying ‘I like you’ – true, I did
Then when did this turn to love – false, I didn’t
She said these words, and how would life had been if I didn’t say it – so I said it indeed

Now check my deeds
Am filthy all over
For different ladies, I am thirsty – it’s now or never

The truth is that I came to her innocent
I said ‘I like you’, the truth
But for the words ‘I love you’ – No, I’d be nocent

‘I love you’, if said from a woman – is sweet and clever
To trap I – Myself, the trap
To me she straps
But to my belt strap – hung a lot of women
Then she joined – people for me, wont you clap

She says she sensed the omen
That she would lose me and find another man

Good for her, she knew all along
That she knew all along, sober is no longer my song
Happy me, player keep on playing strong

Now here are the days of Karma
I didn’t care – I was addicted to women, even those I called Ma

So I came to my senses
It’s been 4 weeks of saying those three words that got things intense
Tired was I talking of love
‘I love you’ – I would say this in a minute
While I cheat in the next second
Tell me – why won’t this love thing get me tense?

I love you – she complains that I am not saying it
Love – I do not convey it
Yet, she still loves me, and it’s weird
It means Kudus to me the player nerd
A genius in women – so much I own in herds

Will all these said make me look wicked?
Yes, the ladies would call me a dick head
True – I am a dick head, and down below is a small head

At the beginning, I wasn’t crooked
I said I only liked her and it cooked
Now she sees me as a succulent meal that she couldn’t like but love

There goes the vocal at the other end of the phone
Janji, I love you
Silly me saying ‘I love you too’
Just that, turned out to be the right woo

Now tell me, what I would have said

Saying ‘I don’t love you’, would make the girl sad
‘I don’t love’ would make every Nigerian Fella, or Fela curse and call me a bastard
The players in the game would call me a retard
A retard even if I claim that from the game, I am retired
Even some ladies would ask, does this guy ever go hard?
While some agree that telling her the truth of not loving she, is playing the right card
Some would disagree, saying that life is ‘FAD’
Bleep and Discard


But why didn’t I listen to God
If I told the truth that I didn’t care, then he would not spoil me but spare the rod
And I would make him glad

The funny thing is what is about being a PLAYER

Players keep playing
Ladies would keep hating
Aids would keep hunting
You keep thinking that condom is the thing
Evil keeps singing
Rapture keeps hanging


Peace

'A genius in women – so much I own in herds' Play on player if you really wrote that.
But remember women aren't cattle or sheep.

women aint cattle or sheeps, very true
thanks for given me a clue

id need more critics to review that part, but how do you see the poem !!
Thanks anyway

i wasnt even thinking that women where herds
was just trying to relate to you how numerous they were !!!

I like your originality and the concept. I can clearly see the predicamnt he's in but also does it change him in anyway or does he continue to be a player.

Janji:

A retard even if I claim that from the game, I am retired

From this I thought he had stopped but wasn't sure?

the concept is that a player is glorified in his own eyes
but the end of it is that, he is diggin his own grave
even if he escapes on earth, what about heaven
Its actually for players who have stopped playing and those who are still in it
its like choice

i hope we could build a bridge and share our poems on a page
its your call
originality and concept, thanks

i know we both have a lot to offer
looking forward to a reply

Janji:

the concept is that a player is glorified in his own eyes
but the end of it is that, he is diggin his own grave
even if he escapes on earth, what about heaven
Its actually for players who have stopped playing and those who are still in it
its like choice

i hope we could build a bridge and share our poems on a page
its your call
originality and concept, thanks

i know we both have a lot to offer
looking forward to a reply

Ok I that's cleared it up for me thanks.

The poem you read was my first attempt at poetry and I wanted to get feedback to see if I'm any good at it. I was very inspired reading peoples work on this forum and I've studied it but never written my own. I think sharing our work would be very helpful thanks.

well thats not a bad attempt in poetry
am impressed

the thing is that i wonder where the poets are on naira land
I mean there gotta be something we could do about our works

i dont know if we could have a live forum or something

Anyway, are you going to write more, while we both share some lovely expression thatw e both have written

Holla

Life starts with a hustle
Like Ayo’s struggle for his breathe
That is how it starts
Or lest he’d go beneath the earth by death
So to breathe, he was smart
Now he and death are wide apart
So he grows
To face the hustle of tomorrow
To find his life’s place
So as to catch comforts accelerated pace
In other not to be a disgrace
But here is Dayo’s row
Needing to hustle for money to end his sorrow
For to get money, struggle is his brace
And he gave it embrace
But Fayo was young and free
Hustling like the buzzing flight of a bee
Because from poverties torment – he wants to flee
“Torments of poverty” - which can turn permanent
But for Thomas
The first step to be a monument is being on the streets
He says – “you can only be on the streets to steady your feet”
While Shina takes on high and low class women
Who pay to get this good performer’s semen?
He keeps sucking on their teats
He can’t stop – for the money is quick and sweet
Also James was a young man in another city
His hustle seems all wrong
For that – it’s such a pity
Because robbery was his song
Defiant he was, yet mean and strong
I guess he’d keep robbing to infinity
So i say – there are different hustle to which everyone belongs
Peter was on that which was called crime
There is a lot – but car stealing brought him to his prime
But I leave you to wonder if he eventually became supreme
For Jude was another during James time
Defrauding was his theme
Do you think it’s the right way – if he did get money rolling?
While David survived by his business sling
Making and waving money like a king
But allow me fly you with my wing
To a hustle with a different swing
It’s Solomon – the slave blinded with a degree
His eyes almost in tears whenever his Boss makes a decree
All I can say
Is truly and truthful that he was never free
Because he slaves with his school degree to pay his fee
Let’s pray for him that he becomes independent


Can I forget Paul – who does the hustle of a dent?
Only to wash the windows of passing cars – does he find himself to represent
Whenever I drove by 9th street he was always present
But do you think he is better than Jide – doing the hustle of a beggar
Alms can only be given to him by his feeders
But my reader
Check Lawrence the juggernaut sender
He becomes this by going abroad
He’d still travel if getting to overseas is only by road
But our Nigeria’s prince charming has been shrunk to a toad
by his endless unrealistic fantasy to get foreign currencies in loads
His suit and tie here can only offer in overseas – menial jobs
Let’s give him slight sobs
There is a runner up if his hustle doesn’t pay off
It’s Niran – who swallow stuffs
I don’t know- but I heard you say it’s called cloud dust or cocaine
If he succeeds – he moves to the rich line
To eat and drink best of wines
But if he fails – he becomes a swine
He ends up in prison
His same family to accept him if he had succeeded calls him a rejected son
Why – because his failure is the reason
After 50yrs – he comes out of jail an ex-con
But that of Titus was that of claiming to be holy
An in-genuine pastor calling Jesus his one and only
He finds people to fool by preach
He looks and smiles at offerings coming to his reach
As he fakery teaches
He sucks the poor out like leeches
But there is this grand hustle not my doing
Writing my poems and also rapping without booing’s
It’s the genuine hustle by a talent
Only if it is given no relent
Flowing easy for I am truly God sent
By this hustle which is truly descent
But I conclude by saying that truly in everywhere
And surely absolutely is there nowhere
That there isn’t a form of hustle
Whether good or bad – it ceases when you can no longer feel your torso
It ends at death
When by request for eternity – we become banished from the earth

Uncle JAnji , Your poems are too long, haba, brevity is a virtue, the yoruba's say "Opo oro ko k'agbon", "too many words cannot fill the basket", please temper your poem with mercy,

well, thats so harsh of you
how could u say that to me, words just flow and thats why it is long
well i dont know where the meat tastes sour to you for coming at me like that, well i guess you are just one critic
and its not that i do not have short poems too

i dont know sha, its how you feel anyway, i understand