GREAT POEMS

02/12/2025

THE RING ABOVE THE QUIET WORLD

Some nights feel like this,
you, standing on the ruins of something
that once carried people somewhere,
an old bus rusting into the soil,
your past collapsing gently into the earth
that never asked for your stories
but holds them anyway.

Above you, a circle of light
cuts the darkness like a quiet question:
What now?
Like the kind of peace that doesn’t shout, doesn’t promise anything,
but sits with you until you’re ready to breathe again.

You look up because sometimes the sky is the only thing big enough to take what you’re feeling.
Life is messy like that;
broken vehicles, unfinished journeys,
stars that burned long before you arrived
and will burn long after you’re gone.

But there is something Holy about being small in a vast universe,
about knowing you don’t have to have all the answers,
about realizing peace is rarely a destination and more often a moment,
a pause, a ring of light above an abandoned road reminding you that existence goes on and you, somehow, do too.

And maybe that’s enough for tonight.

© GrEaTnEsS 🦁

01/12/2025

"WOKE WORLD" Now streaming on YouTube. Full video here �
https://youtube.com/shorts/r_zvMUieW-M?si=RKkYHHc2y9JuV4cR
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28/11/2025

THE ART OF LETTING GO (II)

At first, we fight, clutching people, dreams, even pain,
because it reminds us we once had something.

Then one day,
you wake up tired of remembering.
You start to see that release isn’t the opposite of love.
it’s love matured, love that no longer demands to possess.

Letting go is not peace; it’s process.
It’s the quiet surgery of the soul cutting away what’s rotted, what stayed too long, what stopped growing.

And when the ache settles,
you realize:
nothing you lost was truly yours,
only what remained after losing was.

That’s where life begins again.
Not in what you hold, but in what your hands finally learn to open for.



© GrEaTnEsS 🦁

28/11/2025

27/11/2025

I Have Never Seen Anyone Bleed From Hearing A Punchline 🦁

26/11/2025

THE ART OF LETTING GO

They never tell you that letting go is a language,
you learn it slowly, word by word,
as the world takes things you thought were yours.

First a moment, then a friend,
then a version of yourself you thought you’d always be.
It’s not forgetting; it’s the quiet undoing of your grip,
the permission to stop fighting gravity.

You realize some things don’t return,
not because they didn’t love you,
but because they outgrew the shape of your need.

You learn that holding on
can also mean holding back,
and that peace sometimes feels like loss when you first taste it.

The art of letting go isn’t about giving up,
it’s about making room.
It’s about trusting the empty spaces
to teach you what fullness could never say.



© GrEaTnEsS 🦁

24/11/2025

Full video on YouTube �
https://youtu.be/Va-ZcJQX2Io?si=e2B_eRwWf1SUjvxl

23/11/2025

WHERE LOVE GOES AFTER IT ENDS

No one really tells you what to do after.
They just say move on
like it’s as simple as closing a tab.

But love doesn’t log out cleanly.
It lingers in playlists,
in half-used toothbrushes,
in your instinct to reach for someone who’s no longer there.

You tell yourself you’re fine,
and for a while, you almost believe it;
until a random laugh sounds like theirs,
and your chest forgets that healing means not answering.

You try distractions, try becoming new,
try pretending endings are lessons
when really they’re just long silences you learn to live inside.

Where Does Love Go?
It hides in the small, ridiculous things:
in the scent of rain,
in the way you still double-check your phone,
in the muscle memory of care that no longer has a target.

Eventually, it changes shape,
it stops demanding to be felt
and starts existing as proof
that you once did.

And maybe that’s enough.
Maybe love doesn’t die,
it just moves houses,
settling quietly into who you’re becoming next.

© GrEaTnEsS 🦁

22/11/2025

WOKE WORLD

The internet gave everyone a voice.
Now everyone is talking, and nobody is listening.
“Google it! Google it!” they say.
But I keep wondering:
What are you Googling?
What are you reading?

They know you’re searching for truth,
so they control what you find.
Brainwashing kids, calling it English and Math,
facts twisted into another L.I.E
to keep you locked in chains.

They lie through their teeth
and still call it the News.
There’s a man in a white coat whose medicine kills,
he loves when you’re sick because your pain pays his bills.

There’s a man at the bank
who gives you a loan to buy a house
then waits for the day he can take your home.
There’s a man who wants you
spending your life online,
he knows you’re searching for truth
so he filters your mind.
And there’s a man in the church…
God, I hope he told me the truth.

Africa is burning, turning people into animals.
Politicians build bridges just to slip the funds and rob the nation dry.

The flag burns in the streets, tempers boiling, youth raging.
We don’t trust our leaders.
The police are th!eves.
Freedom is a crime punishable by death.

Nigeria is at w@r, bloodshed everywhere.
Terrorists crowned as kings roaming freely.
But speak the truth from the East
and they’ll sentence you to life imprisonment.

Nigeria is getting ‘woker’ every day.



© GrEaTnEsS 🦁

21/11/2025

And maybe the saddest truth is this:
we’ve mistaken quiet for peace,
because real peace would demand too much:
truth, healing, forgiveness.
And those are wars we still refuse to fight.

© GrEaTnEsS 🦁

19/11/2025

Pray For Nigeria ��

19/11/2025

WHAT WE CALL PEACE

They say peace is when the guns go quiet,
but I’ve heard silence more violent than war.
Sometimes it hides in clean streets,
in the smiles that don’t reach the eyes,
in the children who learn early
how to dream small to stay safe.

We raise white flags,
but inside, the battle hums
between what we’ve done
and what we pretend to forget.

Peace, they say, is a treaty.
But maybe it’s a truce with our own ghosts,
an agreement not to dig too deep,
not to ask why we sleep so easily
while others bury their sons.

Maybe peace isn’t found,
it’s negotiated with guilt, grief, memory.
It’s the trembling hand that rebuilds
after the ash settles,
the whisper that says, try again even when history promises it will all fall apart once more.

And maybe the saddest truth is this:
we’ve mistaken quiet for peace,
because real peace would demand too much:
truth, healing, forgiveness.
And those are wars we still refuse to fight.

© GrEaTnEsS 🦁