Tuesday, 15 August 2017


(For the lost soul at the Remedial Centre...)

I got hurt emotionally though "I can always control myself" when I feel this kind of passion for an unknown lost soul. I think life is to be lived to the fullest and not taken because of one situation or the other.
I always feel... "why haven't I come into her life when she was pregnant(not sure) or something... Why haven't I stay with her, make her cry on my shoulder, share her pain, tell her not to love me but 'breathe and continue living, love and continue loving, hoping, wishing all will be well while I stay by her side, not as a lover but a best friend, a closest confidant...'"
I wish I could, I swear, I wish I could be close to broken hearts and hurt minds, I wish I could make everyone smile, happy, feel really good. But when I don't know them, or when they don't come indirectly, how will I know them? It bothers me.

Well, to you there, don't think love, affection, care and sort is gone because you're tagged a jinx or you're trapped in sadness. Forget your sorrows though it's hard to be forgotten, live though it's hard to live. Love, though it's hard to love. Cry, though it's hard to do. Most of all, dance though it's hard to be happy, to be cheered up, to dance. I can't tell you I'll be here for you, but when you need someone, Philip Peace is for everybody, he's there(here) for you.

To the girl that died at the University of Ilorin, Remedial Centre at Fufu, Ilorin South, Ilorin. It's a shame yet she wasn't loved, I know the personnel at the clinic would have... I know it's an odd in the society, but I would have loved to be the only best friend you would have ever had. I don't know you, but I wish you lived.

I write this with so much sadness, but I hope it will help someone.
Please, don't stop living, don't stop smiling, forget your sorrows and dance without a tear. Without a sad face. Please, without sadness even if you have them inside of you.
If I could cry for you, I am truly crying now.

I love you.

I'm Akinwale Peace Akindayo
Philip Peace


What shadow would bridge the splatter splash of
angry guns, greeting the eyes of the boy —
Than the rattles from his haunting eye-sight'd?

What soft hands would be as the tears he cried,
The comforting tears from -eyed- gushing bloods?
The eye candle would flame its blinks, that's all.

Yet would it be; that he'd eye sighted would
hurt nor would shutting of blind nor soft hands
grace the last word of his murdered father.

Nor would the State know the Bok+o victims
are dead to the breathing lives, for, they have
met death from cradle, what new gift is grave?

Yet is it, that life values least of noth',
For, with thin air breathed are there accosted
Savagery to man, but the State mightn't know...

Akinwale Peace Akindayo
Philip Peace
Painting by Bruno Amadio (Wikipedia)

Saturday, 12 August 2017



Each moon greets us with its own song;
The cool breezes and the night wind.
Each moon greets us with a new song;
The chilly heat of a night wind.

It's the time to smile, laugh and live
Yet the time to think, live and die
But while we worry to... to live,
Let's live ev'ry moment to th' sky.

Listen to the song of the moon;
The birds that will chirrup at night;
The birds, the chirrup in your voice;
The beauty of your smile at night.

Dance is the still voice in ' blue sea —
yet the silent beauty at night,
Dance is the jingling beads of glee
and the saunt'ring mist through sunlight.

Akinwale Peace Akindayo
Philip Peace

The Silent Deep Blue

The Silent Deep Blue.

Deep blue silences like thin waves
The depth, lone, such blued solitude,
No earth beneath, nor sky above
No rustling leaves nor dancing trees.
Keep...k e e p breathing, keep...k e e p breathing,
And you, feel just your breath, your breath;
Ev'ry moment. Like ne'er again
Yet, like ev'ry time, lovely yet
fearful for a first timer. Such
solitude; It comes just once, once.
And you, diving in the blue wind
where fishes thirst for water and
flowers, they look good 'neath this blue...
A thousand memories extinct
as they came but one softly said
keep...k e e p breathing, keep...k e e p breathing,
And it's just your breath and heartbeat.

Akinwale Peace Akindayo
Philip Peace



She who earns money within the house with
her pot of sweetness. She is a night toy:
Money in her hand, her back on the bed,
That is all she knows; the wheel of the town;
Walking helter skelter like a lost smoke —
She knows not that her pot is a palace;
When burnt, it loses glory as Israel.

Elebolo, who doesn't know what you
do when the sun is dead — when the moon sleeps.
You kine of Bashan, Adam's men whose head
is the foot has flooded you with streams of sperm
and your womb is a graveyard; burying
the lust of yourself in its barrenness,
Who does not know you're a shameless night toy?

You can be bought with a note of bread, yet
pride in your -foul body that's- God's temple...
The horse is having an erection, get
ready for penetration, Gold digger.

Elebolo means prostitute in the Yoruba setting.

Akinwale Peace Akindayo
Philip Peace

Sebotimo Elewa Sapon

Sebotimo Elewa Sapon.

I have ten cups of rice
I cooked the ten cups of rice
I called home and farm to dine
before my house like as a King.

I called on Awoko to sing
I called Ayandupe to drum
A thousand feet greeted my face
before my house like as a King.

I called my wife before them Queen
I called my sons before them chiefs
I called my rag the golden robe
I called my-self a King, where's the throne?

A thousand feet greeted my face —
yet I feared not that fear will kill me,
I just wanted to show them I'm in town,
Hence, called I feet I cannot ' shoe.

They sat and smile, I melt like soft snow
They couldn't see me, yet they lay waiting
for food until the sun died on their head,
They burned charcoal where I once stood.

Akinwale Peace Akindayo
Philip Peace

Fáríolódó Paríolódó

Fáríolódó Paríolódó.

Who doesn't know hunger walks on the street?
Yet, Fáríolódó eats than a glutton.
The farm is a hell of heap, he can't work
yet he eats like a sentenced prisoner.

Who doesn't know hunger 's a miracle?
Yet, Fáríolódó feels none, not even
the one Lazarus once felt. He has a
big head, an oily head shin'ng as the sun.

Fáríolódó is not a son, not yet
a bastard. For, he has hands that can't work
and he has brain that he can't use — yet he
greases it with the oil waste of stolen

Akara. Let's all hail Fáríolódó
Paríolódó, the one that can swallow
the mortar and pestle, but please tell him
that October won't rain and March reaps not.

Akinwale Peace Akindayo
Philip Peace

Fáríolódó means someone whose head is always well cut, no hair at all.
Paríolódó means someone who eats anything (everything) at anywhere.


If the sugarcoating
Of sugar isn't tasty as bee,
The waste from the use-in
Humming bees would make it be.
If the kinsmen are drunk
With gourds by them, like a soaked clay,
They have come in the sunk
Of greeting the faces stead the day.
Then if the sugar wears
Coat and hides behind the priest's cloth,
Do not think what he cares
Is oath, yet it is, of witch's troth.
Then if the sugar coyly smiles
To a wide mile that could convince,
Never forget his styles-
And Ablutions of the cat convince —
To the meat he wants to filch in the pot,
They could be sugar, we could be the pot.

Akinwale Peace Akindayo
Philip Peace

Designed by David Akindeji