Weep not Nigeria,
for justice is in the offing.
Weep not Nigeria,
for your cries resonate and ring.
Weep not Nigeria,
It's time for your African spring.
Weep not Nigeria,
none shall usurp your role as king.
Weep not Nigeria,
for soon in ecstasy you'll sing.
Weep not Nigeria,
for to towering heights you'll cling.
Weep not Nigeria,
and soar atop the eagle's wing.
Weep not Nigeria,
for your patience will gladness bring.
Weep not Nigeria,
it's time to sing the ding **** song.
Weep not Nigeria,
for your misery will not be long.
Weep not Nigeria,
for you are numbered with the strong.

Wake up Nigeria whilst it is still day.
Your darkness thickens in the hot summer sun.
Wake up Nigeria from your spectators' fun.
Like a titan to the slaughter, your way
to financial hades might be certain.
Awake, or your future is uncertain.
Your teeming youth population languish
in persistent erosive social crimes.
Awake Nigeria from pain and anguish.
Your tragedies exceed your countless births.
Awake Nigeria, for these many deaths
reveal a corrupt weakened armed forces.
Awake Nigeria from your great slumber.
Your rank in the black world has been usurped.
Awake Nigeria, reclaim your number
one position by treading those courses
once trod, and never again to be stopped.
Awake Nigeria and discern the times.
Cease for good to be black gold dependent.

Nigeria our great and beloved motherland,
where multitudes of tribes unitedly stand.
Our land of hope by two rivers divided,
with lush vegetation by nature provided.

Nigeria our home of people resilient.
A land of great icons in works diligent.
We hail thee our great and revered black nation,
our land of human dignity and redemption.

God arise and take your place as sovereign Lord.
Enthrone Thyself in Nigeria's seat of power.
Make her edicts and laws Thy eternal word.
Let justice prevail in her courts by the hour.

Our flag will peace and industry symbolize,
whilst our history will always immortalize
the deeds and sacrifices of our heroes past.
Help us Lord to serve our beloved land with zest.

Nigeria the blessed will pervasive peace know,
even when the threats of tumults seem to flow.
Her crops and yields will neighbouring countries nourish,
from her fields that inexhaustibly flourish.

Bloated belly, swollen cheeks,
and a sunken stiff neck on robust torso.
Yet well fitted in flowing apparels;
falling and being raised frequently
from side to side.
Obscene opulence is your delight,
your prestige and your pride;
amassed unlawfully by the pen,
ever wet for your deception
and thievery.
The flight of your spoils of office
enlarge the shopping Malls and treasure houses
of the Occident,
leaving your covetous people
deprived of earning power.
To arms they take at boredom's peak,
whilst your virgins and maidens go a-*******.
Still, you in your sinister acts of re-election,
widen their capacity for Evil, just to have
your sit-tight bid guaranteed you.

Your life's twilight on a
September evening came.
And ferried you were by
crimson cherubs; conveyed
in splendour on a celestial
cruise, to gates pleasant for
a permanent reign.
Your reign on the throne
on a September autumn
exited,
but your indelible legacy
in the hearts of Brits
is enthroned gloriously.

The Paragliders like ravenous vultures flew
to southern Israel to predate on soft targets.
Like swarms of bees, they snuck, *****, maimed, shot, burnt and slew.
Terror did every man's fragile conscience becloud.
Hate made their embittered hearts to mercy forget.
Abductions followed, having to terror avowed.

Then came the IDF's genocidal intent,
having intended global laws to circumvent;
Children, women, all consumed by mighty vengeance.
A disproportionate response beyond balance.
Homes, hospitals, Mosques, Churches and schools are levelled,
as Gaza is by torrents of bombs bedeviled.
I do not with a livid Israel sympathize,
nor do I with a besieged Gaza empathize.
With humanity I have my affinity,
for my deep love for it, tends to infinity.

Elizabeth;
Of immensely esteemed birth.
Highly respected in life,
but more respected in death.
Having a crown that ceased to decay
for many decades long.
A queen of kings, but still a wife,
custodian of traditions strong.
She that saw historic anniversaries,
She that saw millennial discoveries,
She that transcends previous monarchies
in length of days and pivotal reign.
Queen of a realm of historic gains,
where the sun never sets on their plains.
All to Westminster their griefs convey
to our departed who countless smiles gave.
And for your funeral would many for death crave.

The ballot box does my persistent fights convey,
to restore what predatory lords did cart away;
because I cast my vote for good governance to enjoy;
that I may integrity in governance employ
by firing evil men who human rights destroy.

On a summer day I saw a pretty dame
bathing in the warm waves of the beach's tub.
She tanned her skin to adorn her slim frame,
massaging its softness with each gentle rub.
From that distance, she exuded sweet fragrance
stemming from the refining of her radiance.
Sensual movements from lips, hips, curves, legs and hands
made me fantasize as I relished each moment.
My love-struck eyes gazed at the rhythmic movement
of this ******* clad model for all lands.
After a sunbath, she tied her pristine towel,
then with a fixed look, she gazed straight at me.
'Hello, the adventurous gentleman,' said she.
'You sure look gay, hale, hearty and swell.'
Shyly my fears of rejection loomed large,
whilst my love dreams turned out to be a mirage.

Though I style my curly braids with ribbons bright,
and colour my sweet moist lips with royal red
to look as bright and fair as a newly wed.
Though I stand on two towers to get a better height,
with eyelashes that beckon at each gazer.
Though my trendy gowns make me a trailblazer
with great designer labels that distinguish.
Though I have curves which men wished they could relish,
revealed slightly through my ******* clad frame.
Though I have this charm which could hardened hearts tame,
making vicious criminals to dream and lust,
still I am nothing more than organic dust.

Give me a smile, that I may build on your assurance,
Kiss me, that I may have to thy kind heart entrance,
Love me less, and see how tumultuous life could be,
Give thy command, and see my loyalty to thee.

In thine absence, mine heart cannot from thee depart;
A moment's departure would rend my world apart.
I recall that very day I beheld thy face;
A lasting memory I will forever retrace.
That Sunday when thine eyes did my emotions disarm;
The day mine heart responded to thy Love's alarm,
The day you sat upon mine heart's epicentre,
To govern my feelings from their very centre.
Josephine my love, I bequeath my self-will to thee,
Let me thy world share, and make thine own tumults mine,
And come in to my own world, for all I have is thine.

Take me to the land of crystal rivers,
that glitter like a mirror for the gods.
Take me to the height for altruistic lords,
revered by the oppressed for being givers.
I dream of a world drowned in abundance
of joy infinite at its renaissance.
Where the warm rays of the tropical sun
soothe the pains of a bleeding wound by day.
Where nature entertains with so much fun,
like a funfair in the sweet month of may.
I smell the pleasant scent of flowers gay
pervading the plains of awe and wonder.
Where colourful fruits in season render
sweetness and nourishment at my behest.
Where the sun's showers of warmth dry each tear,
bringing to extinction, a world of fear
in this magnificent haven of rest.
I see a paradise for virgins fair,
devoid of blemish with their silky hair.
I see breath taking mountains clad in green,
where romantic love birds would find serene.
I see this world of beauty at its peak,
which all dreamers would relentlessly seek,
coming closer now to my possession
than any dream or imagination.

Take me to the crystal rivers that flow
with calm pristine diamond torrents that glow.
Take me to where all seasonless yields grow
from the effortless hands of men who sow.
Take me to lands of neither high nor low,
where equality reigns with none below.
I see meadows lush that men do not mow.
I see people who do not toil for dough,
with minds innocent, and without a foe,
beaming with smiles radiant that overflow.
In gardens green where sorrow does not show,
kindness is what all men their neighbours owe.
For all men do not accusations throw
at their neighbours calm who vice do not know.
Where each man with a cheerful heart says hello!

Joyous angels an entire night spent,
singing with flutes they ceased to relent.
Shepherds lowly pitch their dusty tent.
A story indeed reminiscent
of ageless advents when we all went
to sing in churches in wintry Kent.
In fright we gazed at Santa's beard length,
in a speed sleigh drawn by the Elks' strength.
We sought more fun for an extra cent.
But after pleasure we did repent,
speaking solemn words of a good gent:
'Oh, what a pleasant time in advent,
to usher in the infant God sent.'

The beautiful bride for the world prepared,
by Europe's colonial powers divided.
Her priceless worth was seen and hardly spared;
hence the need to woo her was decided.
Two great superpowers made their advances,
as she danced before their lustful glances.
Now she's wooed by none other than the Chinese;
who dangle their bread crumbs and putrid cheese;
seeking relentlessly her heart to please.
Africa is no doubt a priceless jewel,
historically contested for by a duel.

Christ is born this day with Bethlehem's poor.
So unassuming, he enters our world
with shepherds lowly coming to adore
this infant Lord who will freedom herald.

Christ is born this day with Bethlehem's poor.
His star in the east did the magi see.
A star never seen from the days of yore
led them to this great child of low degree.

Christ is born this day with Bethlehem's poor.
His birth this day is marked by angels bright.
Singing with cymbals in a placid night,
they ushered in peace from heaven's great door.

Christ is born this day with Bethlehem's poor.
As foretold by the prophets and the law,
He is born of a ****** chaste and meek.
He will never loudly on the streets speak.

Christ is born this day with Bethlehem's poor.
He is lowly with royal ancestry,
born of David's revered noble gentry.
Men's grievous sins His blue blood atoned for.

Christ is born this day with Bethlehem's poor.
He came to earth with men to empathize.
With us for each state he does sympathize.
Our peace with God He came down to restore.

Christ is born this day with Bethlehem's poor.
A unifying force who will world peace make.
Men of different races sing to adore
this Christ child who will their cleavages break.

Christ was numbered with the poor at birth,
and with the transgressors at death.

Sweet Akunna of the forbidden caste,
with ******* ***** and succulent to taste.
She has marble eyes that blossom by day,
and ivory teeth worth a millennium's pay.
Her rear curves dangle to her feets' rhythm,
for the gaze of rivals deep in schism.
Her moist lips have their natural redness,
as bright in colour as a crimson dress.
Her body's landscape is soft with fragrance
of love and sweetness in sheer abundance.
She has long, smooth and fine pillars for legs,
for which every man dreams daily and begs.
In rejection she rules the rain forest
as the queen of misfits, but still the best.
An outcast with beauty that subjugates
all free born women yearning at the gates
of the gods for such unique endowments
which are natural without ornaments.

The living to themselves gossip attract,
but at death eulogies mitigate lies.
Love and care from he who breathes is withdrawn,
but his slumber does attract parties.

Fake mourners with feigned tears in burials act.
They rip off and use the grieving as pawns;
Their loss is their gain, their tears their laughter.
To fill their stomachs, they sob and flatter,
as they to misery dance, from dusk till dawn.

Whilst alive, at my deeds everyone frowns.
But at death, I am a departed 'saint'
whose sepulcher you spray with costly paint.

If you must celebrate me, do so now.
Do not in reverence to my casket bow.
Visit me now in my ramshackle house,
sharply rebuke me if you have a grouse.
Do as much you can to show you love me,
do not when I sleep go on bended knee.
Never belatedly show your respect
by attending my funeral in retrospect.

Corsican born, and an emperor mighty indeed.
Who from obscurity came up to prominence,
who from French shores the attacks of armies repelled,
who had at his disposal, Europe's resources,
who to Saint Helena from French shores was expelled.
Of old Italian nobility he was seed.
Shortish in height, yet towering in ambition.
Military genius of the highest distinction,
whose military strategy is second to none save
Alexander. Whose courage is held in reverence,
whose cradle at infancy was kept in a cave
from strong invading imperialist French forces.
He gave up an empire so vast at Waterloo;
A threat to the memories of his victories past.
Mighty Napoleon, who at Austerlitz excelled.
You did on the beautiful older Josephine cast
your loving eyes, which were hypnotized with passion,
yet focused on so lofty an ambition.
Not even your love for her would rival your love
for world conquest, for which you assiduously strove.

Intrepid gadfly;
the voice of dissent.
Multiple times stricken,
multiple times resolved.
Though he bleeds,
still the pen that chides never bleeds,
nor is it obliterated.
For three decades and four,
death he evaded,
still, multiple times stricken,
evasive he remains.

At Austerlitz I two nations vanquished;
making me historically distinguished.
At Marengo I had Austria subdued;
then I was to honour undoubtedly glued.
At the Pyramids, Mamluks kissed the sands;
then like a French Pharaoh I annexed their lands.
At Jena-Auerstadt, Prussia to her knees fell,
to avoid carnage, and possibly hell.
At Borodino, Kutuzov my boots licked,
as his Russian forces had their arses kicked.
At Ligny, Blucher like a coward fled,
as his smitten forces profusely bled.
At Toulon I first distinguished myself
for a career that would exalt oneself.
Rolica, Leipzig, Waterloo like curses came,
but history will forever my triumphs reclaim.

Just take a good look at me;
My frame is attractive!
It does the unsated
appetite of the chauvinist
fuel.
My curves and your fantasies
are mutually inclusive!
Without them, dreams
are truncated.
But I am an *******
symbol.
The self opinionated chauvinist
designs me in his sub-conscious
to serve and be utterly subservient.
I am incarcerated as a chef,
and timeless baby sitter.
A baby machine for a
patriarchal dynasty.
My education is a threat to chauvinist ego.
My ignorance hones his misogynist confidence,
whilst my erudite head
retards his self esteem and worth.
The illiterate ******* symbol is his
ideal and virtuous woman.
The smarter and more professional
is the age-old Jezebel.
My chastity and virginity
are twin virtues of a
mutilated genitalia.
My restrained *** urges are
designed for his unrestrained
proclivities and gratification.
I must be restrained,
for him to be unrestrained,
because, share him I must
with two or three others of
my kind.
But take another good look at me,
and see a versatile womb-man!
Translate each prejudice of yours'
and see my remarkable antonyms.

The world is a spicy *** of diverse races
that exhibits colours pleasant on different faces.
Each race revealing features distinct and unique
of varying hair texture but uniform physique.
Oh yes, you know undoubtedly that I am black.
But still my black heritage does not prestige lack
because my black beauty is revealed in the dark.
Oh yes, you all know that I am Caucasian white,
with my magnificent ocean blue eyes for sight.
I am blonde, brunette and red haired with fair skin light.
Oh yes, you know that I am oriental yellow,
having traits distinct that nature itself did bestow.
We look alike but vary from fellow to fellow.
Oh yes, you know I'm middle-eastern or Indian brown.
I adore my skin tanned and hair black as a crown.
I have a pleasant heritage of Asian renown.

Nigeria my beloved home is under siege:
A death trap I see in her third mainland bridge.
The crying blood of the slain in the North-east
overwhelms vicious politicians with guilt.
Humans with hearts of beasts ravage her North-west,
outgunning her corrupt weakened armed forces.
Catacombs of mass graves quantify losses
incurred from incessant farmers-herders clash.
Darkness looms as stupendous amounts of cash
are cast in an energy sector like trash.
Her healing centres are no more than health morgues,
and her institutions breed intellectual dogs.
Her oligarchs of the six zones unify
to plunder, **** and line their pockets with filth.
With peanuts they entice poverty stricken
youths, just to have their sit-tight bids guaranteed them.
Indulgences from the gullible gratify
custodians of faith endowed with seducing lips.
My beloved Nigeria has failed to hearken
to the values of the elders before them.
With priorities misplaced, we go seeking
for stereotyped reputations in our trips
to foreign climes for filthy lucre to acquire.
Good Lord! When will values my mother-land require?

My Lord Jesus Christ is king,
Of him only I will sing.
He loves me dearly I know,
And to him only I'll go.

My Lord Jesus Christ is Lord,
He nourishes me with his word,
He saved my doomed soul from death,
When in sin it lacked good health.

My Lord Jesus Christ provides,
And when I am lost, he guides.
Like a shepherd he leads me,
Even when from trials I flee.

My Lord Jesus Christ is good,
In sad moments, by me he stood,
In my moments of despair,
He does my mood swing repair.

Poverty may not necessarily
laziness connote,
and riches may not
necessarily hard work
indicate.
The hand of providence
does its major role play,
as successes and failures
to each man is assigned.
Work resiliently before
the twilight of life,
extending the goodwill
of fortunes divinely
earned,
thus leaving indelible footmarks
on the paths of existence,
because one day,
die we all must,
and our deeds to future
generations will loudly
speak.

Rose,
The morn is bright
and fair,
and so art thou.
Good Lord! when
shall my envy
cease, for he that loveth thee?
My convincing love words
will never be exhausted
until your highly sought
after hand in marriage I have won.
Contenders from the east, west,
north and south of France
line up by day just for your
consent to seek.
But just as dauntless, relentless
and resilient in battle I have been,
so will I be in my struggle
with these contenders
for your heart's epicentre.

I am the sun, I energize your day.
I speak expressly to the humid air;
'dry up for a day that is bright and fair.'
I command moisture to dry the lush hay
for non-ruminants to be well nourished.
I am ageless, and I am distinguished.
My golden rays have living things enriched,
my yellow rays induce the labourer's sleep,
having toiled so hard for his family's upkeep.
The flower smiles at my usual advances,
and with her fixed gaze, she makes no glances.
My loving rays speak with no utterances.

The day flourishes with my assistance,
as I serve from my celestial distance.
My service to you, none else can replicate.
Without me, life-form will from the earth vacate.

I am his punching bag,
he punches me at will,
he punches me to vent his anger,
he does so to douse his frustrations.
He tries to regulate my emotions,
he entrenches himself fastidiously
in my life's branches.

My constant battery is his love's
justification.
To him, none else could care better,
not even my own sacrificial mum.
In my secular and public life,
his raging jealousy is hardly concealed.
I am his only mood swing's spectator,
I am enslaved by regular and
suicidal threats.
I must to his own will remain subservient
for my own dear children's survival.
Not even my domestic pets are spared.
My movement is restrained, every
friend of mine is a suspect,
and my conversations are thoroughly
scrutinized.
His watchful eyes are never exhausted
by prying.
He makes my life a world of suspicion
and espionage.
My conscience is daily by blame overwhelmed.
I am worthless and hardly esteemed, and can on
none else rely.
I have no better friend or acquaintance than him.
My inferior gender is a social stigma,
hence I am closeted with his unquestionable
desires.

I must please him to the utmost
with my food, chores and body;
My meals must sate his insatiable appetite
with the very best cuisines of his choice.
My house chores must be flawless in dexterity
for his perfectionist requests to please.
At bed time my **** and body curves
must gratify and gratify his ****** proclivities,
even at my own very expense.

To what shall I liken thee?
An angel in realms above,
a mermaid in Oceans beneath,
a costly stone in the fiercest
contention sought for,
or even a costly diamond in the
earth's elusive epicentre buried?
Your beauty is a turning point
reference in your amazing book
of chronicles.

Napoleon Bonaparte

You sprout like a flower in my heart,
You erode my frowns with laughter.
My mind is struck by many darts,
each time I view your ****** art.
You always my desires water,
as loving petals from them sprout.
In my loving heart's deepest south,
I feel just you entrenched therein.
None else could my emotions win,
but you, the goddess of men's hearts.

Africa's venerated literary
icon with words of eloquence
esoteric to the blind.
Distinguished in letters
for ages infinite.
Unparalleled in intellect,
and a gadfly of constructive
dissenting views.
Soyinka,
You are indeed a priceless
asset to the black race.
The wise grey-haired doyen
of literary geniuses,
whose ingenuity is in a century
once seen,
and in a Millennium, ten times.

Christ in a manger was laid,
regally known but lowly.
His royal identity
was to three wise men revealed,
but from his kinsmen concealed.

Christ was in Bethlehem born;
his royal ancestor's city.
A king that sinners would scorn,
and would by his friend be betrayed.

Messiah to the unholy;
born to salvage the wicked
with the blood of his innocence.
He was nailed with no evidence,
He shared the fate of the crooked
but his unjust conviction
he never appealed against.
Born that we all might be cleansed,
born that men no more may die,
born that men may reign on high,
and born that men might see God.

My heart cannot
anymore my emotions
accommodate.
Permit me to be pragmatic
in affections which
in its very bottom I
have buried:
Let me hold you in
my cozy arms and
kiss you. Let me your
succulent apples feel,
as I explore the smooth,
soft and sweet fragrant
landscape of your body.
The sensual touch of your
lower curves would
undoubtedly to the
highest heavens convey me.
Let me hold you tight
so that no one else
may grab you.
Let me in your love's
citadel seek eternal
refuge from the vast
armies of Europe.

Intrepid damsel,
a heroine unsung.
A willing martyr
with courage
unrivalled.
Unransomed captive
with a ransom
infinite.
She gladly faces
death with eternity
in view.
Like her lover before her,
she chooses to be
a sacrificial lamb
to the slaughter.
Leah Sharibu,
the heroine unsung.
She that chose to mortify
her passions
for timeless paradise.
Hardly daunted by
Kalashnikovs and
thunderous explosives,
she inherits a world
deemed abstract by
unfaithful adherents.

Executive- My powers are absolute,
                    thus I am totalitarian.
                    The legislature and judiciary
                    are each subservient to my whims.
                    I pass my bills with attendant
                    compliance, and interpret my own
                    terms as the law.
                    I shut the doors of compassion,
                    I am very deeply elusive.
                    I give no room at all to dissent.
                    I get bloated with the treasures of the nation.
                    In a leap year's tenure I bulldoze
                    my way back to my incumbent status.
                    And when four multiplies two, I impose
                    a minion to cover my ills.

Legislature- To obnoxious decrees I give my consent.
                       I inflate yearly forecasts to become opulent.
                       I am gratified for the cabinet servants' affirmation.
                       I always my selfish treaties ratify.
                       I am undoubtedly slavish to executive excesses.
                       I seek the redress of constituents' grievances
                       to enlarge my pocket's size.
                       And above all else, I am largely rubber stamp.

Judiciary- My evasive justice is yours' to reap
                   if you are a top notch,
                   whilst I withdraw the distributive
                   and restorative from insolvents.
                   I base my interpretations on business
                   interests,
                   and make laws for the interests of
                   a cabal.
                   Equity and rights are only in my
                   constitution stated.
                   But in reality they are no more
                   than abstract twins.
                   The sacred laws of our national prospectus
                   I serve as a weak custodian of,
                   and weaker still in the face of political
                   heavyweights.
                   But with all the lofty responsibilities
                   I am reverently saddled with,
                   I can do nothing more than
                   empower bigwigs because I am weak,
                  and they are powerful.

Well, so they tell us-
the political gladiators and
heavy weights. That in permanent
servitude we must remain.

They create a void in our stomachs,
which they momentarily fill with
what they carted away from us.
Just for their self will and whims
for another leap year's tenure to
be entrenched.

They widen the capacity for evil
of the canines they have intentionally
starved.
For a bone's morsel, the canines
viciously their draconian orders
execute.
Just for their masters' sit-tight
bid to be guaranteed.

Restrained with the servile chains
of their desperate overlords, they bark
ravenously at the oppressed,
who have come to liberate themselves
at polling units.
Each time the unworthy is by the
ballot box overthrown, the ravenous
canines at the hands of feeble
patriots gnaw.

A pound of flesh they take
from the down-trodden kingmakers,
to usurp the power they have
in good governance vested.

The umpire with filthy lucre gratified,
raises the hand of the fraudulently
triumphant political Brahmin,
who for another leap year's tenure
subjugates his dalits with utter
deprivation; ASUU strikes, poor infrastructure,
incessant power cuts, poor health delivery,
persistent insecurity, unemployment
and the cancerous bad governance.

With fat cheeks and stiff neck
that is well sunken into a robust torso,
he regularly raises the sides of an
African attire of elitist renown,
set once more to amass more spoils
of political office for a privileged
family dynasty.

I heard the voice of the good shepherd say;
"I did your sad and weary soul salvage,
lean on me, I did for your freedom pay.
Lean on me, and come to God with courage."
The soft voice of Jesus tenderly speaks,
when in moments of pain, my sadness peaks.
His assuring words give my poor soul rest,
as I lay my wearied head on his breast.

I heard the voice of the good shepherd say;
of the life giving bread he freely gives
to all the redeemed in whose hearts he lives.
I came to him as hungry as I was,
and my spiritual stomach he did sate.
His soft spoken voice always pleads my cause,
his love for me is always up to date;
thus on him only I can hang my fate.

I heard the voice of the good shepherd say;
"I am the only sacrificial lamb,
no one else can duplicate my good role."
I once was lost, but he rescued my soul,
he did protect my fallen soul from harm.
When from his sheepfold I stubbornly strayed,
with no regard for the price he gladly paid,
he lovingly sought me out without delay.

Chika the angel in the distant clouds.
Treads slowly along the utopic path.
With eternity's splendour in your grip,
you were awoken by melodious sounds,
played by celestials who guided your trip.
You fled divinity's eternal wrath,
to dwell in realms of laughter infinite.
Those on earth have said a final goodnight,
desiring someday to share in this bliss,
when we like you will earn the Saviour's kiss.

I heard an old old Christmas song
sung by grandma on Christmas eve.
I heard an old old Christmas song
of a ****** who did conceive.
I heard an old old Christmas song
of a Christ child who will relieve.
I heard an old old Christmas song
of glad tidings we shall receive.
I heard an old old Christmas song
of peace on earth we shall achieve.
I heard an old old Christmas song
of joyful people who did grieve.
I heard an old old Christmas song
of pain eternal we shall leave.

I will cling closely to your breast;
on which my wearied head will rest.
I will lie gently on your thighs,
from whence I'll fly to distant skies.
I'll seek refuge in your warm arms,
it always my thunderous head calms.
I will to your heart find entrance,
the moment I'm given a chance.
I will in your smiles take delight,
when from looming trials I take flight.
I will from your voice get comfort,
in times of utmost discomfort.
I will at your heart's doorway wait,
even if your consent comes late.

In seventeen sixty nine a child was born
in Corsica, Genoa's former vassal state.
Prior to his birth, his land had been war-torn,
Paoli's resistance did his birth predate.

At school, his geometrical talent was inborn,
and he was tutored by none other than Laplace.
For his accent, his peers at school laughed him to scorn,
but fortune would elevate him from grass to grace.

With his much older heartthrob he tied the knot;
much to the chagrin of his own dear family.
For the heart of Josephine he relentlessly fought,
and at Chateau de Malmaison they lived happily.

Later he would choose a military career
that would take him beyond the Corsican frontier.
France's revolution saw to his glorious rise,
when at Toulon, he took royalists by surprise.

To Egypt he led a dual expedition
of a military and scientific mission.
To France he returned and sacked the directory,
taking charge of the affairs of state and treasury.

Europe did contend with him in seven coalitions;
at Austerlitz he subjugated two nations,
at Marengo, Austria on her bended knees fell,
at Jena-Auerstadt, Prussia to victory bade farewell.

At Borodino, Russia met her nemesis,
as her vanquished forces saw their paralysis.
At Ligny, Blucher like a beaten canine fled
with the terribly smitten forces he once led.

Portugal's sovereign lord to distant Brazil ran,
when like an invincible lord he came to his realm.
The emperor he feared, and made no military plan;
thus he paved the way for him to ascend his helm.

But despite his triumphs, his weakness was exposed.
At Rolica, his troops a major set back saw.
From Leipzig he did to Elba's island withdraw,
from whence in 1815 he returned unopposed.

Russia's wintry plains did his grand armee deplete,
making his troops vulnerable to a future defeat.
After the famous battles in which he gloried,
his great ambition at Waterloo was buried.

A percentage of me has to hell been consigned
by the ever raging zionists' war machine.
To each livid soldier, a mandate is assigned
to uproot terror where multitudes are confined.
Torrents of explosives have swept my landscapes clean.
Churches, mosques, schools have all to mighty vengeance bowed.
Stricken mothers wail uncontrollably aloud.
Itinerancy pervades my horror stricken crowd,
whilst my kids toy with explosives, carnage and ruin.
Survivors will take shelter from snipers shooting
death ***** and lead from peevish and portable guns.
Horror unprecedented the people outruns.
I have metamorphosed to nothing but a morgue.
Lice and bugs have infested hoodies lined with borg.
Disease and maimed limbs have no remedies in sight.
Let not the world be unmoved by my sorry plight.
Why must I this price pay for a thousand or more killed?
My morgues are beyond their capacity filled.
The deaths of innocents are nothing but unjust.
My once-populated streets have been turned into dust.

Eureka! it's Christmas time again!
A time to reminisce about seasons past
of pizzas hot, cup cakes, icing coated snacks,
home-made lemonade, champagne and Santa's sacks
of choicest toys, newly produced and recast.
Eureka! laughter pervades the plain!
for dazzling lights of astonishing colours
exhibit rare heavenly multicolours
for the yuletide's ambience of pomp and pageantry
in every country tropical and wintry.
Eureka! it's Santa's express train!
A very pleasant holiday time indeed.
When a dream becomes wonderland for a kid
who takes a trip in Santa Claus's speed sleigh
in this great and awesome paradise for play.
Eureka! it's the ding **** season!
A time to raise sweet voices for a reason
A time to sing a heart warming and sweet hymn
in well lit Cathedrals that are hardly dim.
Eureka! it's Christmas time again!
Ding **** the much awaited Christmas bells chime.
The gladdened poor are cheery without a dime,
whilst the rich is cheery with his loaded barn,
each of them spending as much dough as they can.

Samson and Delilah
Submitted By: Joseph C Ogbonna

Delilah: Samson! Why do you imprison my love in the dungeon of mistrust?
The hypnotism of my succulent *******, and the soothing soft feel of
my moist lips, your stolid heart betrays.
You really do have the strength of a God, but even a God is subject to
the mind blowing caresses of a goddess. Prove your love to me by submitting
to just this nagging request, and our much anticipated wedlock which you very
much desire will be certain.
Samson: Your words turn me on as much as the moist feel of your honey gate. How could I
ever resist thee Delilah? Certainly at your behest, I bequeath my awesome and
divine strength.
Delilah: Then rest your troubled head on the comfort of my massaging hands, and see that
there never was nor can ever be, a warm resting place for your wearied head like
these lovely hands of mine designed like a pillow fit for a Prince.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
Even when in a famished state I hunt,
In pastures green and lush with abundance,
He renews my spry and exuberance.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
In gardens of drought He will fortune plant.
He leads to quiet pools of fresh water
from which I draw strength and endless laughter.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He does my requests for pleasant paths grant.
Even when to deepest darkness I stray,
He lovingly paves a most glorious way.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
Even when my foes seek my life to hunt,
His rod and staff give me all the comfort
that allay my fears of every discomfort.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He does my sumptuous feasts and banquets flaunt
for my blood thirsty adversaries to see
from abased locations on bended knee.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
Even when Satan tries my soul to haunt,
His goodness and mercy will follow me
until His heavenly abode I see.

As we begin a journey so uncertain,
you and I made one in a world of ours.
Our thoughts and emotions to share,
our pleasant moments together to cherish,
and our pains and sorrows to endure.
I pledge my unflinching loyalty to you
this day, and for the rest of my life, by
taking an oath of fidelity to make our
uncertain journey certain.
I vow before you and God almighty
to be there for you in times of need,
in times of want, in times of joy,
in times of bliss, and in times of despair.
I vow to nourish and to nurture your
mortal body and soul.
To share my infinite possessions with you,
and to bequeath them at death to you.
I solemnly promise to cast my hopeful
sunbeam on you,
to cause your emotional eye fluid to dry
in your moments of grief.
Every thought of thee gives me health,
and a minute with thee is truly a life time
to remember.
Nothing else shall separate us both save death.
May heaven grant its consent to our eternal union.

Deify me, I illuminate your world.
I shine like your luminous guardian angel.
In the cosmos, I am your adored arch-angel.
I awake to brighten a lack-luster morning.
I always your routine activities herald.
I glitter for the flora to have their fill,
so do I for men to energize their mill.
Of the ocean currents I keep on warning.
I make the flora lush for medicine and food.
I awake for the globe's universal good,
and sleep at even with a sated crimson smile.
I pave the way for the silver and dew for a while.
The globe's life would cease without my needful presence.
Of the firmament, I am the very essence.

A lovely December morning like this,
connotes nothing else in our world but bliss.
A time to mine our richest depths of love
on fifth avenue's apartments above.
Every split second is worth a lifetime
with your warm presence in this wintertime.
A kiss from you is like an explosive.
Your lips hypnotize with a corrosive
touch of arousal and sensuality,
bringing heaven on earth to reality.
I will relish the softness of your skin,
like I have never before relished in
our union together as a couple.
We will dine, dance, kiss, romance and cuddle,
because I sure hope to make this December
a unique December to remember.

You raise your wings like an angelic insect,
sent with a goodwill message to deliver,
hovering around flowers gay with a gentle touch,
and the kiss of life of a kindhearted fairy.
You are truly blameless of anything scary,
bringing more life to nature without defect,
generously giving without desiring much
in return, unlike many a human deceiver.