"ayodeji" poems - Hello Poetry

Under the trees we danced Around blue made fires With love and unity Entertained with flutes and moonlight stories Dropping from the toothless mouth of our elders Accompanied with Wise words and warnings That we may not be blown by the wind Or drenched by the rain . Soon,we became orphans Left with no breast to **** Fathers and mothers lost in battle Against unceasing slumber We are alone like an island surrounded By waters of civilization . Now we are lost ,lost in ignorance Our hands,not strong enough To hold firm the calabash Given to us by our dead Filled up with warnings and wise words So we lost it! . Our hen is pregnant But claims the goat is responsible We lack fountain But beg for water Our barns are full with yams But we gnash our teeth in hunger We have golds But cry for stones Our eyes are open Yet,blind to behold As the beauty of our rainbow unfolds. Balogun Tolulopez Ayodeji David (Drunk poet) ANA AAUA chapter 2017

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Jun 17, 2017

Jun 17, 2017 at 12:34 PM UTC

Drunk_poet

lost orphans

Under the trees we danced Around blue made fires With love and unity Entertained with flutes and moonlight stories Dropping from the toothless mouth of our elders Accompanied with Wise words and warnings That we may not be blown by the wind Or drenched by the rain . Soon,we became orphans Left with no breast to **** Fathers and mothers lost in battle Against unceasing slumber We are alone like an island surrounded By waters of civilization . Now we are lost ,lost in ignorance Our hands,not strong enough To hold firm the calabash Given to us by our dead Filled up with warnings and wise words So we lost it! . Our hen is pregnant But claims the goat is responsible We lack fountain But beg for water Our barns are full with yams But we gnash our teeth in hunger We have golds But cry for stones Our eyes are open Yet,blind to behold As the beauty of our rainbow unfolds. Balogun Tolulopez Ayodeji David (Drunk poet) ANA AAUA chapter 2017

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Sister Bisi, A serial fashion killer From what I remember, her beauty was men's dealer. Her ostrich legs would move her, Like a car without adequate fuel See, I doubt it if sister Bisi could really **** . Sister Bisi, Her smiles could make you render Her your head, Of course, before placing her head-drink, You would be dead! Calling her "Beautiful" was an understament . Sister Bisi, I once believed she was a witch Her eye lashes elongated like palm fronds She could barely swallow "amala" But she could linger on "noodles" and "suya" Her lips would dance like flowers in the air When she says "like seriously" . Sister Bisi, I admire you, till yesterday, When a circle of unending presence beheld you Besides the "gutter" you could barely cross Your twins on the chest shaved away! Like demolition of our public library. "she's been used" I heard from murmurs, I was keen Only to know that you were a "slay queen" . Balogun Tolulopez Ayodeji David(drunk poet) ©️2017 ANA Aaua chapter

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Jul 15, 2017

Jul 15, 2017 at 10:43 AM UTC

Drunk_poet

Sister Bisi

Sister Bisi, A serial fashion killer From what I remember, her beauty was men's dealer. Her ostrich legs would move her, Like a car without adequate fuel See, I doubt it if sister Bisi could really **** . Sister Bisi, Her smiles could make you render Her your head, Of course, before placing her head-drink, You would be dead! Calling her "Beautiful" was an understament . Sister Bisi, I once believed she was a witch Her eye lashes elongated like palm fronds She could barely swallow "amala" But she could linger on "noodles" and "suya" Her lips would dance like flowers in the air When she says "like seriously" . Sister Bisi, I admire you, till yesterday, When a circle of unending presence beheld you Besides the "gutter" you could barely cross Your twins on the chest shaved away! Like demolition of our public library. "she's been used" I heard from murmurs, I was keen Only to know that you were a "slay queen" . Balogun Tolulopez Ayodeji David(drunk poet) ©️2017 ANA Aaua chapter

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PREACHER MAN What use is of a sound? Which fails to marry the dancer step What good is of a song Which does not appeal to the ear What good is a sermon Which does not remind man of empyrean A singer is as good as his song A preacher is as good as his sermon But what good use is both him and his handwork When they are egregious With no iota of morality Sermon that is mendacious Therefore, preach me no more your sermon of insanity Because when you preach it I see lugubrious faces of men of my race Because when you preach it I see deluge of blood of slaughtered men of my nation Because when you preach it I hear the wailing of the native of the street Preach me not the sermon of democracy Also when you ring the gingle of your sermon into my hearing The death of justice and truth Rings in chambers of my mind Preach me not the sermon of democracy When it is kakistocracy Preach me not the sermon of bravery When they are never seen Preacher man Preach me not your sermon Until it is innoxious By Ayodeji Lawson lawmyk ©2018

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Mar 31, 2018

Mar 31, 2018 at 5:35 AM UTC

Lawmyk2208

PREACHER

PREACHER MAN What use is of a sound? Which fails to marry the dancer step What good is of a song Which does not appeal to the ear What good is a sermon Which does not remind man of empyrean A singer is as good as his song A preacher is as good as his sermon But what good use is both him and his handwork When they are egregious With no iota of morality Sermon that is mendacious Therefore, preach me no more your sermon of insanity Because when you preach it I see lugubrious faces of men of my race Because when you preach it I see deluge of blood of slaughtered men of my nation Because when you preach it I hear the wailing of the native of the street Preach me not the sermon of democracy Also when you ring the gingle of your sermon into my hearing The death of justice and truth Rings in chambers of my mind Preach me not the sermon of democracy When it is kakistocracy Preach me not the sermon of bravery When they are never seen Preacher man Preach me not your sermon Until it is innoxious By Ayodeji Lawson lawmyk ©2018

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It seems like yesterday When I crawled down from my mother's Womb Drenched in blood and covered with nakedness Compelled to cry,to give smiles and laughter That I may not run to my fathers' tomb Love and warmness were the embodiment of my first breathe . Soon, am employed, to chase away goats And fowls in the neighborhood I recited poems and my lips sing songs To the moon and the beautiful stars I danced in rain and played in the hay With flowers not rollercoaster . The thought of life being all about Rainbows and unicorns cling to my mind Failure must be the treasure that is hard To find But the sun laughed at my ignorance Now,I heard a call! Echoing in waves through my childhood The call of the future itself . I climbed hills and Cross oceans Wilderness and valleys hosted me Lion and tigers I battled In the forest of rare determination Looking for the bed of roses But still lingering in my dream And for I fear I might be woken Soon enough . Balogun Tolulopez Ayodeji David ( Drunk poet) Of course..... All right reserved!!

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Jun 8, 2017

Jun 8, 2017 at 3:07 AM UTC

Drunk_poet

looking for the bed of roses

It seems like yesterday When I crawled down from my mother's Womb Drenched in blood and covered with nakedness Compelled to cry,to give smiles and laughter That I may not run to my fathers' tomb Love and warmness were the embodiment of my first breathe . Soon, am employed, to chase away goats And fowls in the neighborhood I recited poems and my lips sing songs To the moon and the beautiful stars I danced in rain and played in the hay With flowers not rollercoaster . The thought of life being all about Rainbows and unicorns cling to my mind Failure must be the treasure that is hard To find But the sun laughed at my ignorance Now,I heard a call! Echoing in waves through my childhood The call of the future itself . I climbed hills and Cross oceans Wilderness and valleys hosted me Lion and tigers I battled In the forest of rare determination Looking for the bed of roses But still lingering in my dream And for I fear I might be woken Soon enough . Balogun Tolulopez Ayodeji David ( Drunk poet) Of course..... All right reserved!!

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GENOCIDE . The Thunder stuck Pillars got hurt Dreams got blunt Wishes ceased to come . The fire started The house got burnt The fire sang the lullaby The flames danced to it, the steps of ballet Suddenly, it changed The skin of our aged wall What is this again? . A strange boot broke the door latch "Who is there?"we asked, A dumb being answered in a primitive language "Who are you?" This was my question But hard knocks gave me answers . Bad thoughts ran into my skull But I ward them off with a slap "It's not my turn"I said, . Spirits dying Hands trembled Words remained unvoiced Actions ceased to be done Leaves remained impotent Strong men hid under their women At the sight of the beings Who are not humans They are around Those two legged rodents Who disturbs our farms with their four legged wards Those who defiled Our old lady Sons of Eli The Elder brother driving the nay-tion's truck The younger one planting nails on its routes . They have traded their one plank flocking bridge With the American deadly sticks They let out a boom On an innocent soul He raised a hand as if to bless He immediately dropped it violently and let his eyes Opened The man died! . The earth refused to accommodate us It protest When the diggers kisses it We wept Our tears flows to the stream And it rejects them swiftly And the dirge turns to our anthem Our ancestors clasp their hands And watch us die . Lo! A major fragment of the globe is dying They just committed a genocide . By Ayodeji Lawson lawmyk .©2018

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Mar 31, 2018

Mar 31, 2018 at 5:38 AM UTC

Lawmyk2208

Untitled

GENOCIDE . The Thunder stuck Pillars got hurt Dreams got blunt Wishes ceased to come . The fire started The house got burnt The fire sang the lullaby The flames danced to it, the steps of ballet Suddenly, it changed The skin of our aged wall What is this again? . A strange boot broke the door latch "Who is there?"we asked, A dumb being answered in a primitive language "Who are you?" This was my question But hard knocks gave me answers . Bad thoughts ran into my skull But I ward them off with a slap "It's not my turn"I said, . Spirits dying Hands trembled Words remained unvoiced Actions ceased to be done Leaves remained impotent Strong men hid under their women At the sight of the beings Who are not humans They are around Those two legged rodents Who disturbs our farms with their four legged wards Those who defiled Our old lady Sons of Eli The Elder brother driving the nay-tion's truck The younger one planting nails on its routes . They have traded their one plank flocking bridge With the American deadly sticks They let out a boom On an innocent soul He raised a hand as if to bless He immediately dropped it violently and let his eyes Opened The man died! . The earth refused to accommodate us It protest When the diggers kisses it We wept Our tears flows to the stream And it rejects them swiftly And the dirge turns to our anthem Our ancestors clasp their hands And watch us die . Lo! A major fragment of the globe is dying They just committed a genocide . By Ayodeji Lawson lawmyk .©2018

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THE SEED OF TALENT .The mustard seed Fell on the thorny part It found it death .The winter marƙed its funeral The summer markeɗ it resurrection Now green has becomes it hue .The amorphous unrefined pebble Has wiggled leisurely To the workroom of the goldsmith He has made the iron passed it's aggression on it And it ***** ***** has turned golden .The one quarter of the talent Has found its way to the care of a productive servant Riches has he made from a little talent .Green has it becomes The mustard seed of talent Golden has it become The amorphous pebble Of divine gift Riches has he made From the little talent By Ayodeji Lawson lawmyk ©2018

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Mar 31, 2018

Mar 31, 2018 at 5:33 AM UTC

Lawmyk2208

Untitled

THE SEED OF TALENT .The mustard seed Fell on the thorny part It found it death .The winter marƙed its funeral The summer markeɗ it resurrection Now green has becomes it hue .The amorphous unrefined pebble Has wiggled leisurely To the workroom of the goldsmith He has made the iron passed it's aggression on it And it ***** ***** has turned golden .The one quarter of the talent Has found its way to the care of a productive servant Riches has he made from a little talent .Green has it becomes The mustard seed of talent Golden has it become The amorphous pebble Of divine gift Riches has he made From the little talent By Ayodeji Lawson lawmyk ©2018

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GOOD MORNING. DEVIL Your eyes you close oh saucy sun You oceans our first sons are gone with you The frith we called our abode Its the patheon of the seven headed viper The morning comes with tearful noise Hands journeyed to north, and legs to south Heads rolls from the cut of an invisible axe Its the death of devoted worshippers What path have we troden? Who called our master an impotent? Where is the entrance to the forgone shrine? We are mortals Who believes in our immortals In Our finest robe we danced to their dirge We have God but seeks gods We have chosen this path, and forever we will be theirs Esu bear us witness, we rejoiced when you descended But in the ides of march In your house we paid tributes But here we are with tribulations Today of all days You sit with your neck to the sky Staring at us, with palms on cheeks Your chains we pulled Our hearts is free of palm-oil Give us peace we clamor Your gold we want not Give us joy, you decline Though, you are not a god to serve everyday But your praises we will sing all day Good morning Lawson ayodeji Michael 06-08-2018 13;00

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Aug 7, 2018

Aug 7, 2018 at 11:26 AM UTC

Lawmyk2208

DEVIL MORNING

GOOD MORNING. DEVIL Your eyes you close oh saucy sun You oceans our first sons are gone with you The frith we called our abode Its the patheon of the seven headed viper The morning comes with tearful noise Hands journeyed to north, and legs to south Heads rolls from the cut of an invisible axe Its the death of devoted worshippers What path have we troden? Who called our master an impotent? Where is the entrance to the forgone shrine? We are mortals Who believes in our immortals In Our finest robe we danced to their dirge We have God but seeks gods We have chosen this path, and forever we will be theirs Esu bear us witness, we rejoiced when you descended But in the ides of march In your house we paid tributes But here we are with tribulations Today of all days You sit with your neck to the sky Staring at us, with palms on cheeks Your chains we pulled Our hearts is free of palm-oil Give us peace we clamor Your gold we want not Give us joy, you decline Though, you are not a god to serve everyday But your praises we will sing all day Good morning Lawson ayodeji Michael 06-08-2018 13;00

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