I found out I had not been sharing, I had only been shelling.
This prompted me to share on my Facebook page for the period, Shobb’s Diary (@shobbsdiaryofficial)

The whistle is our new alarm.

We’ve learnt to hide
from straying nails
propelled by our
actions, yet
laying blames.

We’ve suddenly slit
our neighbors
sleep, in search
of slips for
fanning fame.

We’ve gradually built
our bed of rose
with cement
And tiles to
Hide our shame.

We’ve become parents
with corroding
tongues, our kids
dare not forget
our names.

We’ve become all this
and more, but nothing
draws in what we want;
A life of peace and
untainted love.

We’re too heady
even wisdom calls
us daddy ’cause we
chose the whistle
not it’s warnings.

The more we search
the more the search
Like thieves, looting
all we can for satisfaction
from a big beer can
Till the whistle becomes our new alarm.

Shall we pause to think
for a while or two
what has left us with
pants and and hatred too

Shall we leave that
peak and take a
peek at why we do
our chase-less runs

Shall we try to
reason and for once
not think treason
making everyone felons

Shall we make our
beds of straw
not because we’re
dumb or poor

Shall we cease to
hold our claims
when it’s smeared
with poison or

Shall we wait
for our sentence
from the burnt and

The Whistle is Our New Alarm
P.C: Damilare Okunola

The action lies at the centre of trUth.
Realise your faults, then change yoU!
©Shobb’s Diary


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