I AM THE POEM BY RAJI AYOMIDE OLAITAN KING OF RHYMES

Ayomide Raji

Biography: Raji Ayomide Olaitan, known as King of Rhymes, is a Nigerian poet, spoken word artist, author, animator, and certified drone pilot. He grew up in the jungle city known as ajegunle. He is the Founder/CEO of King of Rhymes Poetry Hub and TechRise Coding Hub, platforms dedicated to empowering young creatives and training youths in digital and tech skills. He serves as the Global Teenage Tribe Leader of the African Writers Tribe, where he mentors and inspires young writers across Africa. His work blends poetry, storytelling, animation, and digital creativity to deliver powerful, emotional, and visually engaging art. King of Rhymes is a voice, a movement, and a rising force in African creativity. Subscribe. Listen. Feel. Rise.

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Ayomide Raji

Sunday 7 December 2025

THE STREET WHERE MY NAME LEARNED TO SURVIVE

I was born in a place

where dreams walk barefoot,

and hope wears a second-hand shirt

with the price tag still hanging from prayer.

In my street,

children learn ABC through the alphabet of survival,

A for “Avoid trouble,”

B for “Be sharp,”

C for “Carry your future like your last meal

because nothing is promised here.”

Ajegunle raised me.

Not softly.

Not gently.

But like a father who believes

the world will not pity his child.

Here, we don’t grow up,

we rise.

Rise like smoke from burnt tyres,

rise like rent in Lagos,

rise like the sun refusing to give up on a dark sky.

Every gutter taught me poetry.

Every generator humming at midnight

taught me rhythm.

Every mother selling courage in sachets

taught me strength.

I am the echo of streets that swallowed boys

and spat out men.

I am the voice of a generation

building bridges out of broken days.

I speak for the child

whose classroom is a kiosk,

whose notebooks are memories

and whose teacher is life.

If you call my scars ugly,

then you don’t understand the beauty

of a survivor’s skin.

My pain is not decoration,

it is direction.

I am from a place WHERE

light fails,

but destiny does not.

Where pockets are empty,

but hearts are full.

Where we fall seven times

and rise eight

because the ground no longer fears our weight.

So when you see me shine,

don’t call it a miracle.

Call it proof

that even the darkest streets

can raise a star.

My name is proof.

My story is testimony.

My journey is a map

drawn with the ink of struggle

and the colour of resilience.

I am the child of Ajegunle…

and I am still rising.

Ayomide Raji

Sunday 7 December 2025

THE STREET WHERE MY NAME LEARNED TO SURVIVE

I was born in a place

where dreams walk barefoot,

and hope wears a second-hand shirt

with the price tag still hanging from prayer.

In my street,

children learn ABC through the alphabet of survival,

A for “Avoid trouble,”

B for “Be sharp,”

C for “Carry your future like your last meal

because nothing is promised here.”

Ajegunle raised me.

Not softly.

Not gently.

But like a father who believes

the world will not pity his child.

Here, we don’t grow up,

we rise.

Rise like smoke from burnt tyres,

rise like rent in Lagos,

rise like the sun refusing to give up on a dark sky.

Every gutter taught me poetry.

Every generator humming at midnight

taught me rhythm.

Every mother selling courage in sachets

taught me strength.

I am the echo of streets that swallowed boys

and spat out men.

I am the voice of a generation

building bridges out of broken days.

I speak for the child

whose classroom is a kiosk,

whose notebooks are memories

and whose teacher is life.

If you call my scars ugly,

then you don’t understand the beauty

of a survivor’s skin.

My pain is not decoration,

it is direction.

I am from a place WHERE

light fails,

but destiny does not.

Where pockets are empty,

but hearts are full.

Where we fall seven times

and rise eight

because the ground no longer fears our weight.

So when you see me shine,

don’t call it a miracle.

Call it proof

that even the darkest streets

can raise a star.

My name is proof.

My story is testimony.

My journey is a map

drawn with the ink of struggle

and the colour of resilience.

I am the child of Ajegunle…

and I am still rising.

Ayomide Raji

Sunday 7 December 2025

THE STREET WHERE MY NAME LEARNED TO SURVIVE

I was born in a place

where dreams walk barefoot,

and hope wears a second-hand shirt

with the price tag still hanging from prayer.

In my street,

children learn ABC through the alphabet of survival,

A for “Avoid trouble,”

B for “Be sharp,”

C for “Carry your future like your last meal

because nothing is promised here.”

Ajegunle raised me.

Not softly.

Not gently.

But like a father who believes

the world will not pity his child.

Here, we don’t grow up,

we rise.

Rise like smoke from burnt tyres,

rise like rent in Lagos,

rise like the sun refusing to give up on a dark sky.

Every gutter taught me poetry.

Every generator humming at midnight

taught me rhythm.

Every mother selling courage in sachets

taught me strength.

I am the echo of streets that swallowed boys

and spat out men.

I am the voice of a generation

building bridges out of broken days.

I speak for the child

whose classroom is a kiosk,

whose notebooks are memories

and whose teacher is life.

If you call my scars ugly,

then you don’t understand the beauty

of a survivor’s skin.

My pain is not decoration,

it is direction.

I am from a place WHERE

light fails,

but destiny does not.

Where pockets are empty,

but hearts are full.

Where we fall seven times

and rise eight

because the ground no longer fears our weight.

So when you see me shine,

don’t call it a miracle.

Call it proof

that even the darkest streets

can raise a star.

My name is proof.

My story is testimony.

My journey is a map

drawn with the ink of struggle

and the colour of resilience.

I am the child of Ajegunle…

and I am still rising.

Ayomide Raji

Sunday 7 December 2025

What they didn't teach us in school

They taught us formulas, but not how to survive real life.

They made us recite facts, but never taught us how to feel.

This poem is for everyone who had to figure it out the hard way.

poem by king of rhymes

They taught me about gravity,

But never how to handle a fall emotionally.

They taught me kinetic energy,

But never how to keep my spirit in motion when life stands still.

I memorized photosynthesis,

But I never learned how to breathe when the world takes my light.

They gave me equations for success,

But not the formula for surviving failure at night.

I knew how to calculate velocity,

But not how to speed up healing when pain hits constantly.

I studied cells in biology,

But no one warned me about being trapped in emotional solitary.

They drew atoms on boards,

But never explained how humans split bonds too.

They spoke of the heart as a pump,

But forgot to say love can rupture boundaries too.

They taught me the periodic table,

But I still couldn’t identify the elements of betrayal.

Told me about current in physics,

But didn’t show me how to flow through pressure without breaking.

I passed exams in silence,

But failed in expressing the noise inside me.

I was A+ on paper,

But real life marked me wrong where it mattered.

They taught me photosynthesis needs sunlight,

But never how to grow through storms in the night.

Said I needed lab reports for proof,

But my scars and struggles be my strongest truth.

They never taught us empathy,

Just symmetry.

They cared more for neat answers

Than messy honesty.

School no teach me say life dey bite like mosquito for blackout.

Say e fit slap you like NEPA wey no dey give shout.

Dem no teach say money no dey obey syllabus.

Say person fit get sense book-wise

but still dull for survival like broken compass.

Dem teach me science,

But street teach me silence.

Dem teach me maths,

But real life na luck plus small sharpness.

I sabi diagram,

But I no sabi diagram wey dey show who go betray me for back.

Make I yarn you last last...

No be everything school go show you.

Some lesson na life go flog you

like say you copy for exam wey you no write.

So shine your eye!

Hold your sense like lab coat,

'Cause this life na ex

periment,

and everybody dey test you

with or without textbook.

Ayomide Raji

Sunday 7 December 2025

💞 “When the Wind Spoke Your Name” — A Poem Inspired by Love

There are moments when the heart speaks before the mouth ever opens…

moments when a feeling grows quietly, choosing its own language,

its own rhythm, its own way of being understood.

Some emotions don’t arrive with noise

they come gently, like whispers the wind carries,

or memories that return without asking permission.

This piece was born from one of those moments.

A moment where silence felt full,

where thoughts found their own music,

and where the presence of someone special

shifted the air in a way I couldn’t ignore.

And so, I wrote this…

not as a declaration,

but as a reflection

a soft place where meaning can breathe on its own.

💞 “When the Wind Spoke Your Name” — A Poem Inspired by Love

The wind carried a whisper today,

soft as dawn, warm as memory.

It sounded like a name I’ve heard a thousand times

yet never truly understood

until my heart leaned closer.

Your smile rose with the morning light,

painting gold on everything it touched.

Even the quiet trees seemed to pause,

as if they, too, wanted to remember

the way your presence shifts the world a little.

There is a calm your laughter brings

a kind of peace that doesn’t ask for permission.

It just arrives, settles, and stays,

like it has always belonged beside mine.

And somewhere between yesterday’s shadows

and tomorrow’s prayers,

I learned something simple,

something steady:

not every story begins with a sentence…

some stories begin with a person.

If the night ever forgets its stars,

I’ll lend it the glow you left in my chest.

For affection like this

does not shout, does not rush

it writes itself quietly

into the places only truth can reach.

And if destiny is real,

then perhaps it moved a little closer

the day the wind spoke your name

into my waiting heart.

Ayomide Raji

Sunday 7 December 2025

I WROTE THIS POEM FOR THE GIRLS BY RAJI AYOMIDE OLAITAN KING OF RHYMES

I wrote this poem…

for the girls.

The loud ones,

the quiet ones,

the ones still learning how to speak without shaking.

I wrote this poem for the girl who dreams in silence,

for the one whose laughter fills a room like sunlight,

for the one who’s been told,

“you talk too much,”

but still speaks

because her voice is thunder,

and thunder was never meant to whisper.

I wrote this poem for the girls who rise

again and again,

even when the world forgets to clap.

For the girl who reads and glows,

the one who leads and grows,

the one who knows

that “no” doesn’t mean stop,

it just means find another door.

I wrote this poem for the girls who dare.

The girls who don’t wait for permission

they sign it themselves.

For the girl child who holds tomorrow in her small but mighty hands,

for every dream wrapped in ribbons and rough edges,

for every little queen learning her own name.

Listen

you are not small.

You are the universe dressed in pink sneakers.

You are lightning in human form.

You are proof that gentle can still be powerful,

and pretty can still be brave.

So shine, girl, shine

break the box,

bend the rules,

paint your name across the sky in bold letters that say:

“I am here!”

Say it loud!

“I am here!”

Say it again till fear gets tired of listening.

Because today,

we celebrate you.

Happy International Day of the Girl Child

the day the world remembers that girls aren’t the future…

they are the now.

So go ahead, girl

read, rise, roar,

lead, laugh, love,

and still remember

no matter how high you fly,

don’t forget to slay your edges before you go!

Ayomide Raji

Sunday 7 December 2025

I AM THE POEM BY RAJI AYOMIDE OLAITAN KING OF RHYMES

I stand here today,

Not just as a voice,

But as a universe vibrating in syllables.

Call me Yoruba

Because my words dance like talking drums,

Every line a bata beat,

Every pause a proverb.

Call me Igbo

Because my rhymes trade like kola nuts,

Every stanza a market square of wisdom.

Call me Hausa

Because my verses ride like horses in the North,

Strong, steady, carrying the weight of tradition.

I am not one tribe

I am the tongue where tribes meet.

I am the rhythm where cultures agree.

Even football knows my name

Real Madrid, Arsenal,

Two clubs fighting like metaphors in my chest.

I pass words like midfield magic,

I shoot bars like penalties,

I score goals in the net of your memory,

And the crowd

The crowd is applause breaking like thunder.

Science too is poetry

Listen:

My heart is a drum powered by chemistry,

Pumping metaphors through veins of biology,

My thoughts spark like neurons in physics,

My dreams orbit futures in astronomy.

Even gravity can't pull my voice down,

Even silence can't break my sound.

Call me the atom of art

Because I split verses like fission,

And release energy enough

To light a continent.

I rhyme like mathematics,

Equation of survival balancing hope and struggle.

I drop metaphors heavy as iron,

Yet light as helium when hope rises.

And still

I am history’s DJ,

Scratching records of tradition into beats of tomorrow.

I am culture’s scientist,

Mixing formulas of old and new

Until they explode like experiments of freedom.

I am football’s poet,

Dribbling past despair,

Scoring goals of joy,

And lifting trophies carved from hope.

Do not box me into subjects

I am literature and laboratory,

Tribal marks and telescopes,

Market chants and mathematics,

Arsenal jerseys and Real Madrid victories,

I am every angle of the prism,

Bending light into colors of possibility.

This is not just poetry

This is wordplay with purpose,

This is rhyme with resistance,

This is culture braided with science,

This is Africa,

This is the world,

This is me

And I say to you,

I am not just a poet.

I am the poem.

And as long as I am breathing,

This performance will never end.

Ayomide Raji's Profile

THE STREET WHERE MY NAME LEARNED TO SURVIVE

THE STREET WHERE MY NAME LEARNED TO SURVIVE

THE STREET WHERE MY NAME LEARNED TO SURVIVE

What they didn't teach us in school

💞 “When the Wind Spoke Your Name” — A Poem Inspired by Love

I WROTE THIS POEM FOR THE GIRLS BY RAJI AYOMIDE OLAITAN KING OF RHYMES

I AM THE POEM BY RAJI AYOMIDE OLAITAN KING OF RHYMES

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