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"haram" poems
*Growing to a man and embracing my life. My commitment to Allah, a journey begins with no strife. Once in a lifetime, a pilgrimage to Mecca must be the end, To my commitment to my religion and forgiveness of sin. Number 7 has meaning as the journey begins. First stop Medina, as I seek out peace. Hajj station to Bath, dress in the Ihram. Praying at Masjid Nabawi, purity, equality for all. A statement of intent, I commit to all. Entry to Masjid al-Haram complex is now allowed. Circling seven times Kaaba as I pray to God. Sipping water from Zam Zam to keep the law. Walk through the hills of Safa and Marwa times seven, Where I pray seven times more. Prayers along the way to my God, At Mount Arafat then other sacred sites. Kneeling down to pray to Allah, Day and night. Sleeping the night with 5 million strong, Then rise up to stone the devil to atone, Shaving head for cleansing, showing respect for God. Sacrifice lambs to feed the poor. Onward to Mecca, back once more. Circle Kaaba, pray to my God Repeating Tawaf on each turn of seven and no more. Circle Safa, Marwa then on to Mina. On to Mecca again for more prayers to my God Enter Makkah performing Hajj, Before the faithful return to Mecca on seven then do a farewell Tawaf.*
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Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 11:28 PM UTC
Journey To Mecca
Growing to a man and embracing my life. My commitment to Allah, a journey begins with no strife. Once in a life time, a pilgrimage to Mecca must be the end, To my commitment to my religion and forgiveness of sin. Number 7 has meaning as the journey begins. First stop Medina, as I seek out peace. Hajj station to Bath and dress in the Ihram. Praying at Masjid Nabawi, purity, equality for all. A statement of intent, I commit to all. Entry to Masjid al Haram complex is now allowed. Circling seven times Kaaba as I pray to God. Sipping water from Zam Zam to keep the law. Walk through the hills of Safa and Marwa times seven, Where I pray seven times more. Prayers along the way to my God, At Mount Arafat and other sacred sites. Kneeling down to pray to Allah, Day and night. Sleeping the night with 5 million strong, Then rise up to stone the devil to atone, Shaving head for cleansing, showing respect for God. Sacrifice lambs to feed the poor. Onward to Mecca and back once more. Circle Kaaba and pray to my God Repeating Tawaf on each turn of seven and no more. Circle Safa, Marwa and on to Mina. Then to Mecca again for more prayers to my God Enter Makkah performing Hajj, Before the faithful return to Mecca on seven and do a farewell Tawaf.
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Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 8:31 PM UTC
Journey to Mecca
Listen my dear daughter, to my first song of caution Earmarked for you my wonderful sire, come and listen, That tall old man with white hair all over his head Standing over there is not good; he is gnomish in the mind Be careful with him, he is not human in the heart But a mermaid of Yoruba poetry, just like Thespis of Greece Even the pecuniary psychopomp of Sweden gave him an accolade His heart is selfishly full of avarice; he wants everything for himself, Don’t recite him any of your poetry, lest he spells an abyss Against your juvenile poetic talent, he will fool you with a gift; A white sheep or a scarlet goat for your birth day anniversary Please don’t take it or anything else from him, as nothing from him is genuine But only machinations of evil spell aimed at mahyeming your talent Finally to decimate your girlhood and life, this is my caution For you dear little African girl. Listen my dear little daughter, to my second song of caution That short man in a Muslim gear loafing yonder, is suspect The Muslim beret on his head is merely a smokescreen to aghastly behaviour He is in no way an avatar of god of love and humane piety He is a terrorist working with Boko Haram and Algaeda He is an Alshabab that is bombing young girls in Mombasa and Nairobi All over Kenya he has killed the young people; his long egret-white sari is not for holiness, It is merely a nefarious sanctum of grenades, other tools of work in terrorism trade His loudly prayers, body movements and pocket bursting monies are only a stunt To have you kidnapped into death conduit, once you goof to join his courts, His sanctimony is a total picaresque film, (s)heroes of terror the centerpiece And thus, this is my caution for you dear little African girl. Listen my dear daughter, to my third song of caution Those tourists thronging our streets are deadly *** pets, they also skulk **** Their handsome outlook is not a stamp to any good conscientiousness They derive pleasure from poverty and *** tourism; they yearn to see a girl in poverty, Often rarely will they help an African girl, out of milieu of beggarly squalorism, Instead they go straight for the purse between your thighs, Regardless of the legacy they leave out of this lewdness, they are showy, They regret not in their Byronic broadcast of *** and fatherless urchins in the poor streets Foundation for their further poverty tourism, this is my caution for you dear little African girl.
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May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 4:20 AM UTC
VERSES OF CAUTION TO AN AFRICAN GIRL
Listen my dear daughter, to my first song of caution Earmarked for you my wonderful sire, come and listen, That tall old man with white hair all over his head Standing over there is not good; he is gnomish in the mind Be careful with him, he is not human in the heart But a mermaid of Yoruba poetry, just like Thespis of Greece Even the pecuniary psychopomp of Sweden gave him an accolade His heart is selfishly full of avarice; he wants everything for himself, Don’t recite him any of your poetry, lest he spells an abyss Against your juvenile poetic talent, he will fool you with a gift; A white sheep or a scarlet goat for your birth day anniversary Please don’t take it or anything else from him, as nothing from him is genuine But only machinations of evil spell aimed at mahyeming your talent Finally to decimate your girlhood and life, this is my caution For you dear little African girl. Listen my dear little daughter, to my second song of caution That short man in a Muslim gear loafing yonder, is suspect The Muslim beret on his head is merely a smokescreen to aghastly behaviour He is in no way an avatar of god of love and humane piety He is a terrorist working with Boko Haram and Algaeda He is an Alshabab that is bombing young girls in Mombasa and Nairobi All over Kenya he has killed the young people; his long egret-white sari is not for holiness, It is merely a nefarious sanctum of grenades, other tools of work in terrorism trade His loudly prayers, body movements and pocket bursting monies are only a stunt To have you kidnapped into death conduit, once you goof to join his courts, His sanctimony is a total picaresque film, (s)heroes of terror the centerpiece And thus, this is my caution for you dear little African girl. Listen my dear daughter, to my third song of caution Those tourists thronging our streets are deadly *** pets, they also skulk **** Their handsome outlook is not a stamp to any good conscientiousness They derive pleasure from poverty and *** tourism; they yearn to see a girl in poverty, Often rarely will they help an African girl, out of milieu of beggarly squalorism, Instead they go straight for the purse between your thighs, Regardless of the legacy they leave out of this lewdness, they are showy, They regret not in their Byronic broadcast of *** and fatherless urchins in the poor streets Foundation for their further poverty tourism, this is my caution for you dear little African girl.
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36
Match, match forward and go, you heroic sons of America Reconnoiter into the strongholds of boko haram, And restore our captive girls from the foul custody, Lawlessly held hostage by the connoisseurs of terror, Go on and recover poor souls from ribald of religion Impishly created by Moslem from the satanic verses, Regulating foray of terror on the poor of the poor ****** mahyeming, looting and executing massacres, Match on and on yee angels of democracy, Don’t stop in any haste or in any wonder, To help in the sham flabbergastations, About the Igbos who fought the Biafra, And the Yorubas who federally defended, Under the aegis of Obasanjo the Sandhurst General, where are they all to save the girls Of Nigeria from the Islamist terror Excuted by boko haram the handmaid of evil.
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Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
IN PRAISE OF AMERICAN TROOPS IN NIGERIA FIGHTING BOKO HARAM
They began without notice, in the city of Mombasa By the Al shabab shooting baby Osinya in the head, Killed the mother, leaving a slug stuck in Osinya’s head Killing and mauling many others macabrously, Killing for no other reason, but tribe and faith, Their victims confess different religion and ethnicity. They had initially lynched the West Gate Mall In Nairobi, killing the aged and seasoned darling Of African poetry and true fountain of peace The dearest Kofi Awonor, in full watch of his son, Confirming a trail of the ghastly curse of fate and death That totted him arduously from his home in the west Of the tropical gulag that makes the land of Africa From where the terror maestro ; Boko haram reign scot free Mayheming, Killing, ****** and kidnapping harmless virgins Killing For no other reason but tribe and faith, Their victims confess different religion and ethnicity. They have now killed fifty peasants in Mpeketon town, ****** them in circles to puncture their virginity and brutally kidnapping those that are not ***** Using the AK 47 and the Ak 74 to shoot and **** Without reason nor course but failure of mind Botched down by authenticity of holy diversity Heavenly packaged in God’s idea of tribe, Uhm! An African man with a gun is a brute of brutes, Giving an African a gun is simple mess of the world In to helter-skelter poise tilting peace higgledy-piggledy, Killing one another like animals premised by Charles Darwin As overtly seen in the warring Congo and CAR, Where Africans **** one another in a stupid dint, To ape Rwanda or no! To outshine the Jewish Massacre In the Ammonium chambers of fuehrer Adolf ****** This stupid Africans baser than wild beasts, Who told you that your greatness will come from killing your neighbours; the fellow peasants? These African men are the modern homoguerrillus, Which one call cheap war making man They and **** ! **** **** **** **** **** **** For no other reason but faith and tribe, Their victims confess different religion and ethnicity. Gunshots of the gunmen in Africa are not A song of the caged bird, no whatsoever, They are cowardly maneuvers of the weak As the weak and cowards rarely forgive, They arm themselves to the teeth With deadly weapons from Russia or wherever Only to shoot and **** the old and malnourished Peasant women, killing the likes of baby Osinya Shooting a suckling baby to prove your heroism, These African men are really a Whiteman’s burden, They **** their fellows from cockcrow to chick roost For no other reason but tribe and faith, Their victims confess different religion and ethnicity.
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Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 9:45 AM UTC
THE GUNMEN OF AFRICA ARE NOT A SONG OF THE CAGED BIRD
They began without notice, in the city of Mombasa By the Al shabab shooting baby Osinya in the head, Killed the mother, leaving a slug stuck in Osinya’s head Killing and mauling many others macabrously, Killing for no other reason, but tribe and faith, Their victims confess different religion and ethnicity. They had initially lynched the West Gate Mall In Nairobi, killing the aged and seasoned darling Of African poetry and true fountain of peace The dearest Kofi Awonor, in full watch of his son, Confirming a trail of the ghastly curse of fate and death That totted him arduously from his home in the west Of the tropical gulag that makes the land of Africa From where the terror maestro ; Boko haram reign scot free Mayheming, Killing, ****** and kidnapping harmless virgins Killing For no other reason but tribe and faith, Their victims confess different religion and ethnicity. They have now killed fifty peasants in Mpeketon town, ****** them in circles to puncture their virginity and brutally kidnapping those that are not ***** Using the AK 47 and the Ak 74 to shoot and **** Without reason nor course but failure of mind Botched down by authenticity of holy diversity Heavenly packaged in God’s idea of tribe, Uhm! An African man with a gun is a brute of brutes, Giving an African a gun is simple mess of the world In to helter-skelter poise tilting peace higgledy-piggledy, Killing one another like animals premised by Charles Darwin As overtly seen in the warring Congo and CAR, Where Africans **** one another in a stupid dint, To ape Rwanda or no! To outshine the Jewish Massacre In the Ammonium chambers of fuehrer Adolf ****** This stupid Africans baser than wild beasts, Who told you that your greatness will come from killing your neighbours; the fellow peasants? These African men are the modern homoguerrillus, Which one call cheap war making man They and **** ! **** **** **** **** **** **** For no other reason but faith and tribe, Their victims confess different religion and ethnicity. Gunshots of the gunmen in Africa are not A song of the caged bird, no whatsoever, They are cowardly maneuvers of the weak As the weak and cowards rarely forgive, They arm themselves to the teeth With deadly weapons from Russia or wherever Only to shoot and **** the old and malnourished Peasant women, killing the likes of baby Osinya Shooting a suckling baby to prove your heroism, These African men are really a Whiteman’s burden, They **** their fellows from cockcrow to chick roost For no other reason but tribe and faith, Their victims confess different religion and ethnicity.
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53
You search inner peace in drugs and alcohol, in gambling and dice. You search it in haram money and music and in dens of the vice. In the dead of night you disobey Allah, will your heart be at ease? Hankering after this world will you ever find inner peace? Will never end your search, will never cease your quest. For verily, in the remembrance of Allah do hearts find rest!
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Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 9:32 PM UTC
Inner Peace?
Dalam retrospeksi minda naif kecilku pernah berimaginasi memikirkan dunia luar sana yang bagaikan fantasi hati merontakan suatu kebebasan yang diimpi namun kini ku sedari, itu semua hanyalah persepsi seorang gadis kecil yang dahulunya bercita-cita tinggi masa sudah tiba untuk kembali ke realiti. Selamat datang ke Kota Korupsi di mana manusia-manusia bertopengkan syaitan kehausan kuasa, kerakusan harta duniawi dipuja, dipuji dan disanjung tinggi pil penawar pula makanan ruji untuk depresi tiada lagi tempat mengadu, tempat meluahkan hati hanya tinggal kata-kata yang kehilangan erti terpapar di kotak skrin empat segi. Bangsaku semakin alpa, agamaku jauh sekali soal halal haram tidak dipertikaikan lagi hanya topik sembang santai di kedai kopi bicara hari nanti ditolak dahulu ke tepi. Dunia yang dahulu semakin pudar hanya serpihan di hujung sudut memori masa berlalu terlalu pantas, terlepas dari jari-jemari sekarang sudahpun tiba generasi baru menapakkan kaki namun, lihatlah sejarah mengulangi dirinya sekali lagi selagi nafas belum terhenti selagi kita belum pergi.
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Dec 29, 2017
Dec 29, 2017 at 6:45 AM UTC
Kota Korupsi
Religion is cascading the hill Of reason into a reptilian dale: **** by the dark Jidhadists' acts-- Souls demented beyond the pale. From Iraq to Egypt--there, thanks To Heaven for el-Sisi; from Syria To Yemen to Somalia, and a place Like the lands and shores of Nigeria, Where Boko Haram breathes hell In slaying and off skirting dames, Destroying to the smirk of the devil-- Knowing terrorists are no Muslims.
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Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 11:55 AM UTC
Let Us Alone
From: Richard Riddle using: "nicy stephanie" or "rita derrick" THE INFO BELOW STILL APPLIES---DO NOT RESPOND!! ALERT !! You may already be aware of a message currently showing up in the HP message boxes from a female(supposedly) identifying herself only as "Miss Stephanie". She states that she saw/read your profile and is interested you, and has something important to tell you. She asks that you reply with YOUR email, then gives an email address supposedly belonging to her. No other information is given. DO NOT REPLY!! She will post two, or more poems, probably in an effort to gain trust and establish credibility. She may even mention the on-going situation with Boko Haram, or some other conflict. THIS IS A SCAM!! Once your email falls into the wrong hands, there are untold numbers of consequences.DELETE it immediately, then BLOCK IT. Please pass this on! Thanks, Richard Riddle
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Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 1:19 PM UTC
ALERT!!! re: Stephanie Cuma(Maybe)SHE'S BACK!
Today I was accused to being a bad influence yet again, Simply because I facilitate the forbidden wants/needs of the people I love, Simply because I give them a place to get high and vent without being judged, Simply because I create an aura where they feel free to express themselves in whatever ways they like- modest, humble even ****** And simply because the ones they love refuse to facilitate their haram (forbidden). Haram is bad – we all know this But being human is about passing through all things good and all things bad. Being a Muslim, most of my choices are haram; Not properly attired to the laws of my religion, My speech is not of a young lady with modesty- rather it is defined with sheer profanity, I rather laugh from my heart even though it’s supposedly a ****** act, I refuse to lower my gaze around men; the same men that stole from me The same men that refused to lower their gaze from me. I deny myself the potential for love because of the expectation of great dismay And I drown myself with the 34000 thoughts of what if??! This poem is becoming a disaster; my thoughts aren’t flowing straight, I went from bad influence to haram to rebellious to depressing; What the **** is this **** going on inside my head- it aches with great displeasure. How do I contain my contradicting self? Someone help me please, my soul is crying and sobbing for something to fill this void- The void that is desperately trying to full itself with the acceptance of the people who are hell bent on not accepting me. Why am I like this? A contradicting ******* disaster -fir.m
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Sep 22, 2020
Sep 22, 2020 at 3:12 PM UTC
Contained
Today I was accused to being a bad influence yet again, Simply because I facilitate the forbidden wants/needs of the people I love, Simply because I give them a place to get high and vent without being judged, Simply because I create an aura where they feel free to express themselves in whatever ways they like- modest, humble even ****** And simply because the ones they love refuse to facilitate their haram (forbidden). Haram is bad – we all know this But being human is about passing through all things good and all things bad. Being a Muslim, most of my choices are haram; Not properly attired to the laws of my religion, My speech is not of a young lady with modesty- rather it is defined with sheer profanity, I rather laugh from my heart even though it’s supposedly a ****** act, I refuse to lower my gaze around men; the same men that stole from me The same men that refused to lower their gaze from me. I deny myself the potential for love because of the expectation of great dismay And I drown myself with the 34000 thoughts of what if??! This poem is becoming a disaster; my thoughts aren’t flowing straight, I went from bad influence to haram to rebellious to depressing; What the **** is this **** going on inside my head- it aches with great displeasure. How do I contain my contradicting self? Someone help me please, my soul is crying and sobbing for something to fill this void- The void that is desperately trying to full itself with the acceptance of the people who are hell bent on not accepting me. Why am I like this? A contradicting ******* disaster -fir.m
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23
My name is Rajabu Al Islam, an African Muslim Born in Africa, Black Muslim not Arabic, I am now in the solemn city of Mombasa, Standing on the pinnacle of Tahir Sheikh Towers, Looking at the land of Likoni and Motonkwe Beyond the deep blue arm of Indian Ocean, Behold the Muslim terrorists, lynch fierce terror On the innocent human beings, in ramshackled church, They are shooting women and young children, The pastor at the dais, wielding the Bible, Also succumbs to a bullet in his ***** capacity, The church choir master has also dropped dead And the rest of all humanity in the church Have no where to take cover from terrorist, As Moslem terrorist ********* bullets on them, Poor humanity wail in the agony of death From the injurious bullets, of AK 47, Auma Otieno drops dead her son Osinya falling away, Osinya is not dead, but a slug stuck in his skull, In glorification of Al shabab the Islamic terror wing, Baby osinya is young boy of six months, Without selfish   piety of Middle East in chest, When you shoot him, is it n’t it super terrorism! To shoot a child of six months in the head In pursuit of your religious ecstasy? Who said that Islam is the way of Godliness? He was a beautiful cheat full of brawnish frivolities, Islam is total darkness, as its overt organs are ; Al gaeda, Al shabab and Boko Haram. I hate Islam for its ***** reasonless ignorance I hate it with my full passion and my entirety, Indeed I am prepared to die in stern defense Of my antipathy for Islam; a piety so uncouth When I recall, the Twin towers of America, West Gate of Kenya, American embassy in Kenya, And the stubborn Boko Haram, that condemned human life Foolishly in the north of Nigeria to be foul divinity.
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Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
ANTIPATHY FOR ISLAM
My name is Rajabu Al Islam, an African Muslim Born in Africa, Black Muslim not Arabic, I am now in the solemn city of Mombasa, Standing on the pinnacle of Tahir Sheikh Towers, Looking at the land of Likoni and Motonkwe Beyond the deep blue arm of Indian Ocean, Behold the Muslim terrorists, lynch fierce terror On the innocent human beings, in ramshackled church, They are shooting women and young children, The pastor at the dais, wielding the Bible, Also succumbs to a bullet in his ***** capacity, The church choir master has also dropped dead And the rest of all humanity in the church Have no where to take cover from terrorist, As Moslem terrorist ********* bullets on them, Poor humanity wail in the agony of death From the injurious bullets, of AK 47, Auma Otieno drops dead her son Osinya falling away, Osinya is not dead, but a slug stuck in his skull, In glorification of Al shabab the Islamic terror wing, Baby osinya is young boy of six months, Without selfish   piety of Middle East in chest, When you shoot him, is it n’t it super terrorism! To shoot a child of six months in the head In pursuit of your religious ecstasy? Who said that Islam is the way of Godliness? He was a beautiful cheat full of brawnish frivolities, Islam is total darkness, as its overt organs are ; Al gaeda, Al shabab and Boko Haram. I hate Islam for its ***** reasonless ignorance I hate it with my full passion and my entirety, Indeed I am prepared to die in stern defense Of my antipathy for Islam; a piety so uncouth When I recall, the Twin towers of America, West Gate of Kenya, American embassy in Kenya, And the stubborn Boko Haram, that condemned human life Foolishly in the north of Nigeria to be foul divinity.
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37
Wow! We deserve some... THINGS, which are closely to rise up like a changes from the brain with purely social thoughts in the kingdom of alkebulans... A bit change will landed, even The names of some acts by us will change, like... Nigerian Corruption Nigerian laundering Nigerian cybercrime Nigerian Boko Haram Nigerian IPOB Nigerian Niger-Delta Militants Nigerian Kidnapping Nigerian Political Violence Nigerian Armed Robbery Nigerian ISWAP Nigerian OPC Nigerian Afenifere Nigerian Thugs Nigerian Fraud Nigerian etc. To Beautiful U.A.R May be our values core will gain again a golden sight from the eye of the world ... For my home country Everything as a change to... I welcome it
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Jun 3, 2021
Jun 3, 2021 at 12:10 PM UTC
I am U.A.R
They took them… With a *** shovel and beards engulfed with disguise, By fire, by force and harm They heartlessly took them… Loading with a military van from the snare, the school Sabotaging their education and jubilance At the brink of our oculus, like a hot blade through margarine, Like the  evanescence of dew upon new dawn, They were gone… We cajole to Haram Islamic militants, Not the slavery we signed up for, Yet this is our story, but not our destiny. It is profane and sacrilegious to talk slavery upon our realms. Our ancestral dormancy and Jesus crucifixion outlines our history. We were untrammeled...but today, Our existence is dreary and clouded by mystery We count minutes turning into tormented hours, In lament of our own flesh and blood They took them.. with needles and stylus they pinched poked and taunted us, Like a bunch of sponges filled with voids, Our hearts are painfully porous, Dope them with defects, Bring back our girls… Haram saboteurs came in with a saber, They took them… How less of a man to not respect the words of the late Tata Madiba, When he said"Never, never and never again shall it be that this beautiful land Will again experience the oppression of one by another". There will be war upon the element of Haram when Jesus intervene.. Bring back our girls.. (Nigreian acsent) Chinekeee, man of Haram, bring back our girls_oo I beg, why go they take? Eeeh, god will go get you one day, With our teary Nigerian eyes, will we ever see? Adedagbo, our crown of joy ? Aduke,   our beloved ?             Afolayan  Walking in majesty... Agbogu,  God settles dispute… Bring back our girls.
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Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 1:28 AM UTC
They took them..
They took them… With a *** shovel and beards engulfed with disguise, By fire, by force and harm They heartlessly took them… Loading with a military van from the snare, the school Sabotaging their education and jubilance At the brink of our oculus, like a hot blade through margarine, Like the  evanescence of dew upon new dawn, They were gone… We cajole to Haram Islamic militants, Not the slavery we signed up for, Yet this is our story, but not our destiny. It is profane and sacrilegious to talk slavery upon our realms. Our ancestral dormancy and Jesus crucifixion outlines our history. We were untrammeled...but today, Our existence is dreary and clouded by mystery We count minutes turning into tormented hours, In lament of our own flesh and blood They took them.. with needles and stylus they pinched poked and taunted us, Like a bunch of sponges filled with voids, Our hearts are painfully porous, Dope them with defects, Bring back our girls… Haram saboteurs came in with a saber, They took them… How less of a man to not respect the words of the late Tata Madiba, When he said"Never, never and never again shall it be that this beautiful land Will again experience the oppression of one by another". There will be war upon the element of Haram when Jesus intervene.. Bring back our girls.. (Nigreian acsent) Chinekeee, man of Haram, bring back our girls_oo I beg, why go they take? Eeeh, god will go get you one day, With our teary Nigerian eyes, will we ever see? Adedagbo, our crown of joy ? Aduke,   our beloved ?             Afolayan  Walking in majesty... Agbogu,  God settles dispute… Bring back our girls.
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41
The time to wail has always been here Every day we suffer the consequences owned by the heirs Not for once have they worn our shoes They have refused to please our clues Yet they devise new means of sitting on the throne Without giving in to our daily moan. Hypocrites Meetings upon meetings Agbada upon dansiki Designer upon latest trends Convoy upon macho guards Yet they proclaim it’s all vanity. Hypocrites! In the end of the fashion rally at the house, Worthless Nothing of importance is established But the cake is diminished And then they blame it on poor rats. Hypocrites! Blame them and no one else! Because it’s their selfish interest they fight for and not us. From the doom by boko haram To the slaughter by herdsmen. Hypocrites! Don’t we see it! The people get to die But they live to see their greatest grandchildren While their billion dollar ready made coffins rot in the backyard. Hypocrites! God is the ultimate judge Only God can make the evil one right in his sight.
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May 1, 2019
May 1, 2019 at 4:08 PM UTC
NIGERIA’S BIGGEST CULT
The cowards came in the night All were heavily armed, To ****** and burn and kidnap, But not one of them was harmed. They always make sure their victim Has no means of self defence That is how they operate And to them its just common sense. Why would they pick on someone Who is able to easily fight back Because they are armed and trained To beat them if they dared attack? No, not for them the hard fight With men who are trained to **** They prefer to attack little girls And take them against their will. So these hard men of the group Which calls itself Boko Haram Tell me in what do you really believe, Because your actions are not of Islam. Tom Higgins 14/05/2014
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May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
Thieves in the Night.
From: Richard Riddle using: "nicy stephanie" or "rita derrick"(this time its solicitation msgs) THE INFO BELOW STILL APPLIES---DO NOT RESPOND!! ALERT !! You may already be aware of a message currently showing up in the HP message boxes from a female(supposedly) identifying herself only as "Miss Stephanie". She states that she saw/read your profile and is interested you, and has something important to tell you. She asks that you reply with YOUR email, then gives an email address supposedly belonging to her. No other information is given. DO NOT REPLY!! She will post two, or more poems, probably in an effort to gain trust and establish credibility. She may even mention the on-going situation with Boko Haram, or some other conflict. THIS IS A SCAM!! Once your email falls into the wrong hands, there are untold numbers of consequences.DELETE it immediately, then BLOCK IT. Please pass this on! Thanks, Richard Riddle
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May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 10:48 AM UTC
ALERT!!! re: Stephanie Cuma(Maybe)SHE'S BACK!
It's  a shame... That's, immoral social indiscipline politically bad ethic And ethinic differences Between you and the rulers A wise person abuse no one But himself for misconduct No one respects any Nigerian for our misconduct and then corruption, fraud and stealing How many foreign people are swallowed, by these Nigerian's cyber criminals... North and southern ethnicity Hausa/Fulani, Ibgo and Yoruba the major ethnic groups are... Muslims and Christian Traditional and pagans All, are of the same phase of any crime activities and the Selected and elected rulers are from the same species of nature Like ENDSARS, no one knows the reason... But I, slowly understand why Robbery in the nigeran ancient days, militia in the nigeran iron age, religious crisis in the nigeran social age, Boko Haram in the mid age and abductions in the presence age... Because, you can't harvest the grannies old farm, you ran away to the white men mansion to steal in lieu of work to do... 🇳🇬🇳🇬🇳🇬
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Apr 6, 2021
Apr 6, 2021 at 8:36 AM UTC
Shame
Have you wished someone dead? Self doesn't count. Terminally ill don't count, In fact, that may be construed as kind. No. Someone vibrant, strong, Sure and vain, like: The relentless bully, The cop at your door, The ridiculing teacher Who made you the fool. The betrayer and rumour monger, Your prosecutors, some persecutors, An ocassional critic. The machine voice, The government, The ****** and child molester, The boko haram (all terrorists) Even some family members, But never your children. Some on your own list. Close your eyes and pick one With a pin. You can't wait for the uncertainty Of Karma or God, Or them to go to the devil. You can't depend on toilets falling from planes, Tornados dropping houses. It's not illegal: half of us do it. Billions believe it possible. I envision driving the final nail myself. At certain times, it's true, I regret the absence of hell With its gnashing, its unquenchable fires, That burn without consuming: The smelly, curling, shrinking flesh, The bubbling of fat through skin, Because sudden death Just doesn't cut it.
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Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
Wishing For Death
They are the evil behind the mask, they live in our homes, share same bed with us, in their arms we are ensnared they are the evil behind the mask. At their scenes of play: we mourn our fathers, we mourn our mothers, we mourn our uncles, we mourn our aunties, we buried our friends. Before our very own eyes they are massacred in cold blooded. By the aliens behind the mask. From afar i beheld the ravages of our camp. At my gaze eyes failed to blink, as it rained as of a heavy downpour. even lucifer paused in marvel at their horrible scenes of play. They are the evil behind the mask, their name boko,others haram. People laments,others mourn. Our camp is known in wailing.sitted on the lips of our folks mournful songs of their gone children, all at the hands of the aliens behind the mask. They live in our homes, share same bed with us, enjoy the delicacies of our meal, they are the evil behind the mask. They are the ******** and the menace of the community. Their name boko,others haram, people Laments. They are the evil behind the mask.
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Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 10:45 AM UTC
The evil behind the mask
By: Cedric McClester Terror claimed in Islam's name Is at best misguided Because terrorist abandon Islamic understanding When they make that claim Despite the Middle East, Islam stands for peace Suicide and murder's not condoned Though some choose to use it And in so doing abuse it Thus inventing a religion of their own Chances are none to slim that a true Muslim Could ever think the terror is allowed When there is ample proof of the Qu'ranic truth What is haram can never be halal (c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
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Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 9:53 AM UTC
TERROR CLAIMED IN ISLAM'S NAME
I wrote to your sacrilege Toasted your haram You were an idol among the dregs I was a totem in your palm Love lifts within the scent leaving the body to quiver all once between us, rent, only combustible twigs to give her Hence, We ask of death to teach us life Burn our nests For torchlight to shine the way home and weep of love for which I'll die, For writing such a poem.
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Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 4:44 PM UTC
Poems that will get me killed (2015, Issue 1)
Boko Haram is coming! The wolves are at the door. Buzzards have gathered to pick at The carcass of war. See drones in the sky Against half of a yellow sun. Climb into the tank And we'll play Big Soldier Gun. Far-flung fighters Trapped inside Garrison towns. One misstep away from where they cannot hide. Lafiya Dole! Lafiya Dole! Peace by force. Give your food and water To the troops, of course. Besides all the kids Have shrapnel belly. A fresh scar on a story Old and tired. Things fall apart, Mr. Brown, So check the "sell by" date. Our liberation is all but expired.
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Dec 23, 2019
Dec 23, 2019 at 5:50 PM UTC
Nigerian Camp Song
Over 200 schoolgirls, what difference does it make? If there were only one ten or eight, they were never yours to take Hadija, Febi, Chioma, should be in all of our heads, but are instead in a filthy man's bed. We are the hands that need to hold their mothers or wipe away the tears of their broken baby brothers One found schoolgirl the difference that would make to be held in her fathers arms they were never yours to take
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May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 11:06 AM UTC
Boko Haram