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Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?
Akintola kunle May 2020
Where are the saints in white?
    Failing their master judging profane
       Pious is not requisite to honeyland
Sin guarantee no hell all are sinners
Masquerading falsehood a real sin
Greasing your imperfection a greater sin
  Sinners are forgiven, good are
                     rewarded
Some one has to habituate hell who are they?
Real question
Akintola kunle May 2020

This piece projects the way we humans feel and think about our selves in politics, business, social and more. We refuse to trust each other because we all are greedy treasure seekers, we are soldiers always out there to out smart each other
Akintola kunle May 2020
Some say we don't sleep others frawn
Many claim it is short my bottle rebufe
I can't count life days are not figured
I can't stretch blessing pleasure resists.

Poverty is a sin Covid 19 is a crime
No coughing no sneezing all at war
The world is faceless
The white gaurds at the frontiers

How many of your neighbors ache?
Were your grave enough for the pain?
Were your tears able to stream the agony?
The world is faceless.

Some became tycoons others cry
The Giants are standing to fall
There was no world no power
WHO sneeze America shiver
The world is faceless.
Akintola kunle May 2020
When you aggravate the cold vision
What does it mirror?
A pleasant take starring at you and you.
Manikin was never an option you want it large
Be you and you alone in your own way.
Akintola kunle May 2020
No one wants tomorrow
For today's joy assuge the sorrow
Even the moon proscribe no friend to the sun.
Now tell me why man invented gun?

Oyin I shall not believe you
Tell the sun why he shouldn't give way to the moon?
Before you was you
Begging and slaughtering taste of honey Moon's

I shall not believe you Oyin
Plucking your linden like my ancestors
Putting me on the majestic peak of love colour
My faith would declaim you before the win

Wreck me with the mirror of your jaunty mien
It kindly reflects what would be at dawn
Don't make me laugh and lack behind men
In your hollow mind narrow as the lawn

Thus will furrow at your **** and wear
I vow high the hill on nothing to fear
I shall not call you honey twice
For a reason and giving no one is nice

Fear not you ogre to ogle me down your throat.
I thought you are nun but tranquil goat
When your mellow voice militate their thoughts,
I renounce my faith to your remiss and gutt
Akintola kunle May 2020
NO SAINTS IN PARADISE

Paradise here i comb over sea and lands  seeking your kind,
Racing and gazing at wobbling ways to wonder.
Days that weren’t numbered weren’t plundered
From a world drenched in word: lords sinking their gods
I have seen a mad man thanking a drunkard

Before the cap stole the law the barrel snatched the cap,
Paradise crippled like desire meddling with the anvil of greed
Is there no seed in this slumbering heart of Africa ?
No saint in paradise no gain in cowardice no sacrifice
The walls are not the same the boys all want the game

Baba mi’s , raising his pride his milk his talking drum
In Paradise where oil streams like honey valley, Baba mi’s pride,
His daughter's ****** tearing the eye of wanderers in awe,
Their ***** and buttock pulled prophecies from white prophets
Calling for days and deeds: glories in glimmer of hope.

Mama mi is this the cattle papa milked? Heroes loopholes
For “Thou shall not judge” was the song for the solo:
Paradise  diabolical with plundering voices of canker worms .
Exploring her guts, before the eye of wailing youths,
No gold as Garri cements her staple in our belly.

Wiggling tickling and stagnant in the echo of progression,
Paradise craw in the shadow of worthless saints
Harvesting the labour of our fruit
Even motifs hides behind the bar
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