“THE COSMIC MUSE” (part one)

After many other precepts. The organization has since then offered to render customers assistance service, prio to your demands.

Ay, here’s another info battered by ‘unserenated-folks’ to deceit the majority and at the same time ruin the general efforts made for humanity sake. “if no Snake creeps in to the cabin, then there ain’t no hope for the rabbits.”

And if she’s gone, ‘en my tears will never stop;
For as a play’r, I can’t squeeze out one drop;
I’m brave and untouched, but that’s nothing,
I’d rather lose my bread, and a hot tea;

Than—I lose my head; T’sweet co’en is laid upon ‘he bier.
Shelter and I shall be chief moun’rs here!

To her a mawkish drab of spurious breed,
Who deals in sentiments, will succeed.
Poor Neo and I are, dead to all intents;
We could as soon speak Latin as Sentiments.

Both nervous grown, to keep our Spirits up,
We now and then, take down a heaty cup.

What shall we do?, If Art forsake us!
They’ll turn us out, ‘d no one el’ ‘ll take us.
But, why can’t I be of g’od moral?, well, ‘lemme’ try,
My heart thus ‘pre’ing f’ward’ fixed my face ‘d eye.
With a sententious look that noth’ means,
Faces are like blocks in sentimental scenes.

Pleasure seems sweet, but pr’ves a glass of Bitters;
Hence, I begin again, all is not Gold that glitters.

When ign’rance jabs in, folly is at hand,
Learn’ is far better than house and land.
Let not your potent trip for, who tri’s may stumble;
And potent is not virtue if she tumble.

Like stars mountains are rooted on a solid ground!

Likeh Omah Jikah



“A BOTTLE OF WATER” ‘2nd edition’

 The fi’st was bureau. the 2nd wit worth for ratings, nonetheless, if the storyline doesn’t suit the writer as you may suggest; then, I may wrightly say- If you think we’re waxwork you ought to pay you know contrariwise…if you think we’re alive you ought to speak.

In the journey of life, one thing
You must never forget to carry along, is:
“A Bottle Of Water”
During the exile period you’d definitely,
Need some h2o to quench thirst swift’ and,
Too soften the throat.

He had only begun writing in order to earn him more money. ‘n’ t’ help Boost his financial status quo. Gd/
His childhood was no’ all that fun and happ’ besides, he was fascinated by Adventures, more rapidly than most,
Of his accompanies. He had the best as pride. So easily misunderstood by The minority. He be’ame se’f absurd.
Whereas, some of his acquaintances were somewhere in nowhere to be found. His se’onded version look’ as mo’ld.

I was never like this before; Wearing
Cr’zy jeans and, ‘opulent’ perfumes;
At first, she ‘ent—aloof in despair,
And remembered only but f’w things;
The dark wave of the morning fus’ disdain,
She’s warmed hel’ a little bit.

It was twilight already. So, that latter on the morrow, ‘pcsl’,
In what lo’ks ‘ike an hour shift, I was too resilient.
In youthful exhibited values and rating of trends. Add, maybe, a pair of shoes: cushion sports or sprinters. Sneakers;
T’ or a let go ‘stretschechers’ burst,
With ever’thing, we’re here and waiting; Bad plays need not be badly written.

Ay, I know what sort of a relation you want to make of me.
Well, I vow, Mr. Hastings, you are very entertaining and mean.
Though, as sad as it may be, he was nor’–or a beau.
The Sun was in hidden shade,
The Rain’ow was briskly faded-away in mist.
And the skies had suddenly changed.

Frozen cold in the atmosphere, by the invisible gaseous substance surrounding the Earth, (Air).
All the men of the city; had in a forceful, intense manner; (vehemently) ran in to their caves.
And more over half of all the maidens of the community were, shivering like ‘waxdolls’ drowned in a well.
Leaving many wandering inn: who was the wax and where is the cave?

Some elites were ‘in the know’.


By: Likeh_Omah_Jikah. Artiste; CEO- LIKEH-O-J-B.org. writer of ‘A DANCING MOON’ (poem). A singer & a song-writer. A lifestyle blogger. And a BELIEVER.

The car climbed higher into the blowing ice.
She turned and tacked along the front edge of the storm.
Eastward and then South, till the morning light.
Trudged up ahead of the others then stopped.

The engine had drowned,
Out all other sounds. Below,
The dogs and men seemed,
To cling to the ice. Their,
Lights had found him and,
The dogs and men went crazy.

Hold it right there! Someone had shouted in spasm.
He backed his way into the main tunnel. Then,
Started to crawl West. After thirty feet the air seemed to cool.
There’ he felt a slight breeze coming from the left.

The tunnel followed the slope,
Of the hill down to the secret,
Door. After several yards the floor,
Became icy. He started to slip,
Skidding and picking up speed.

He slot along through the darkness and slammed against the door.
He pulled his legs under his body and lay on his back.
Kicked the door open he was completely naked and didn’t really know.
The blast of “coldair” there was a deep cut in the arch.

The strange, warm sensation in his rightfoot,
Made him reach down to touch it slowly.
Then, a bright flash of light from the Lakewood,
Illuminated the blood against the clenching snow.
Behind him he could hear the dogs and men.
So, he began Running.