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"iroko" poems
Behold Nigeria my motherland A land that sits upon the hills of many waters A country built on the ancient landmark of heroes band An Eagle that protects her citizens in the arms of her feathers. A beautiful Nigeria whose fields are as green as green could ever be An Iroko that stands on the root of peace and unity A fertile land that is as fertile as fertility can ever be A united people, a proud nation void of segregation nor discrimination in her city. My motherland a land that upholds the staff of dignity and natural endowment A land of unity and peace glowing like a river of gold across the horizon A nation that feeds on the diet of heavens supplement An ocean that runs through the test of raging storms un-torn. My motherland! My motherland! A Nigeria that adores her women more highly than the Queen of England An Olive that yields more than the cedars of Lebanon A land whose daughters are as beautiful as the daughters of Job in Jerusalem's land An independent country as powerful as the King Nebuchadnezar of Babylon. It's Nigeria my motherland A land that rests on the pillars of her freedom A country seated on the pearls and treasures of many Ireland A Nigeria that lives on the soil of heavens wisdom.
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Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 5:55 AM UTC
My Motherland
Nigeria, a Dying country, Her kinsmen will gather in war to share her sweat More troubles for the unborn and her growing heirs, The unfolding dread non-soldiers at heart like me. Nigeria, she spring forth from the dark soil Her past never stop to echoe, her Iroko turned void Blessed with milk, honey and seeds with hearts fixed to the creator, The sword bearer of coal  war-ful gladiators. A vineyard in the days of her reckoning A different story after her great hair home coming. Tale of a true black race And the  down laying of her good moral ways. Just like how a river side tree dries, So does her firewood also cries. Her genuine red caps are nowhere to be found Her wind, her seed will have to make do with the feeble dust in character around. Shaking is her government seat on the rock Still steady is her opposition in their secret walls. They keep killing her vision in disguise of trying to unlock While they battle to pluck away all her roses. The voiceless murmur and watch, Her pocket papers fly and run While a once great country keep dying on.
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Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 11:52 AM UTC
Dying Country
A pen a pen my little pen Slowly, I took a little pen To write a poem with a pen A poem, to beautify my pen It’s a bonafide my little pen A bar-like, my woody pen A new, and passion my pen It’s a grey-hued and little pen And, it has a green bark a pen Quite soft to touch my only pen It’s a sharpen, my little pen An iroko wood made my pen A yellow part covered a pen It’s a red, strike on my pen With a black, strike my pen Its look like a bow my pen To write a bit with my pen Supple to draw on, my pen Can be use as dotting pen Enclosed no ink in my pen A bit looks like my little pen To write, like my little pen To sketch well, like my pen To beautify, like a baby pen Not like my handsome pen
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May 21, 2020
May 21, 2020 at 5:23 PM UTC
A pen
My dear, do you want to know why this stream shall never cease to flow why this countenance shall know no smile why in vain you realease torent of bile for eternity shall my face tarry behind the sun and ever shall be till this ugly scenario run cut off from every string joint to my mind to recall no more that gruesome day Limbeh turned a cadavar awaiting decay how my heart tremble while my tongue relates the incident that turned an early widow late the night before, cried a owl across at nightfall grandpa beheld and discerned the mysterious call tapped he my shoulder and opened his phangs look beyond the pregnant night in labour pangs waiting to birth a child as mysterious as the cry Ekumbo! May i live not to witness that melancholic night(he sighed) a thing unheard of in Aweh beyond countless centuries worth plunging a kingdom into an endless misery frightened, departed me with my ribs to my cradle to fall holdin his words to await he upon whom the lot shall fall so as the pregnant night did flipped departed then this poor widow to her field to gather bread for her fatherless kids then in agony their lips they bit as their eyes rained in torrent and their sobs grew even fervent when the fatal tiding was unleashed a thing which feared hearts and andrenaline released how she bent beneath a dry iroko gathering yam in her distant and lonely farm a branch uphigh cracked turned she to see the source of the crack behold a log fell on her skull pouring out what was left of her brain- all keeling rightward, she fell as her spirit transcended a plane beyond a place so gray, so blund now poor orphans, as poppies to be shared departed they to various kins to be rared and daily this dirge about her goes as villagers their drum beat and lyre blow forget not the story of the unfortunate widow who for the door, took the window and drank not from the spring of old age nor for her maternal labour achieved a wage
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Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 7:05 AM UTC
The Unfortunate Widow
My dear, do you want to know why this stream shall never cease to flow why this countenance shall know no smile why in vain you realease torent of bile for eternity shall my face tarry behind the sun and ever shall be till this ugly scenario run cut off from every string joint to my mind to recall no more that gruesome day Limbeh turned a cadavar awaiting decay how my heart tremble while my tongue relates the incident that turned an early widow late the night before, cried a owl across at nightfall grandpa beheld and discerned the mysterious call tapped he my shoulder and opened his phangs look beyond the pregnant night in labour pangs waiting to birth a child as mysterious as the cry Ekumbo! May i live not to witness that melancholic night(he sighed) a thing unheard of in Aweh beyond countless centuries worth plunging a kingdom into an endless misery frightened, departed me with my ribs to my cradle to fall holdin his words to await he upon whom the lot shall fall so as the pregnant night did flipped departed then this poor widow to her field to gather bread for her fatherless kids then in agony their lips they bit as their eyes rained in torrent and their sobs grew even fervent when the fatal tiding was unleashed a thing which feared hearts and andrenaline released how she bent beneath a dry iroko gathering yam in her distant and lonely farm a branch uphigh cracked turned she to see the source of the crack behold a log fell on her skull pouring out what was left of her brain- all keeling rightward, she fell as her spirit transcended a plane beyond a place so gray, so blund now poor orphans, as poppies to be shared departed they to various kins to be rared and daily this dirge about her goes as villagers their drum beat and lyre blow forget not the story of the unfortunate widow who for the door, took the window and drank not from the spring of old age nor for her maternal labour achieved a wage
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45
Nothing feels good than having an angel by your side, Someone who knows all your flaws & doesn't quote the law, Someone who you can be awkward with & Would smile & won't say a word, I have searched all around the world for that special one, Up over the foothills & beneath the mountains, Truly they don't exist, These girls come & go like cargos, After building the relationship so tall like iroko, Sometimes, i sit, i stare, i glance at this girls and wonder, What do they really want, They say taste varies, Some dream of tall guys, Who smell nice & doesn't tell lies, Guys with abs,some go for guys with mba, While few go for guys with integrity, i call this mental confusion, i love to be affectionate, despite this emotional challenges, But I have no one to share it with, i have trusted so many, Even when your voices are ringing sonorously in my mind, i will forever remain a loner, Truly not everyone is worth the stress, Shoulders raised high been so unnecessarily sensitive, Penning these long lines isn't even worth it, I'm done writing about love, It's time to face reality.
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Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 4:49 PM UTC
MENTAL CONFUSION
Don't be like the Plantain tree That rips it's leaves as though it has had a violent lover Be like the Iroko tree Tall and intimidating As people sweat at its splendor May they sweat at yours
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Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 1:59 AM UTC
Plantain Iroko
Witch From Iroko Tree. You're a witch, I am mere an image, spellbound by your beautiful magical eyes, I'm trapped in your hut, with your broom, you brought me here, you witch from Iroko tree I'm held captive in the beauty of your mystical spell, lost in the spells of your charm, my spirit I am unable to find, my soul at lost, you've hanged them in the rain forrest, you witch from Iroko tree Under the cursed, I am on your mystical power, wandering in the depths of the darkness under the moon, you've clothed me with your spirit, tying me with the spider's Webb, you witch from Iroko tree Entangled is my fate, in the strings of your destiny, you're the healer of my thoughts, saving me from my agony, you make me laid by you night and day, you witch from Iroko tree You've bewitched my heart, from the spells you cast, caged in the colours of your cloth, I'm punished by my past, I beg you, let me be free, take your spell of my soul, you beautiful witch without a soul, you witch from Iroko tree Enchanted by you, I'm the one reviled by all, I can see through your magical masks, you're drowning in your forest rainfall, free me from your magical spell, you witch from Iroko tree. Ameen Olorunnimbe© 29.11.2018 Copyrights Reserve®
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Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 5:13 PM UTC
Witch From Iroko Tree
A Tribute to Nelson Madiba Mandela A great hero once born is gone, His legacy shall indeed prolong All African leaders acclaim him as a hero, He is a son of the roots, the African sun Oh hear his heroic voice, our Idol Oh let's scream his name, Mandela! Oh hail the great Iroko, Madiba! For freedom, did he fight? He the age old lantern, source of light His words' a symphony to our delight Oh you awakening spirit of Africa, Your voice heard in the Himalaya Your memories forever in our hearts, Your legacy remains till we part, Oh the fighter still fights! Madiba shall you rise again? Shall the fighter fight again? Oh so selfless a heart of love, He's reached the heavens above On earth we build him a grove Oh this tribute We give to you, Though the sun no longer shines on you, In our hearts you remain engraved From dawn to dusk, on your grave, Shall birds sing of glory, it's true Oh Mandela, Madiba, we miss you father For freedom's sake, you did not surrender Your seeds shall forever bloom, In heaven the brides await their groom, Your laughter did erase our gloom
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Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 9:43 AM UTC
The Fighter Lives
With rapture on and on I played Hoping to cease if the stars'd fade Strong, smart as my father's son Sure! I was not a fiddler for fun At twilight out of my house I crept Each instance was a promise kept To your ears under Iroko I'd croon And our third party was the moon As I inhaled the lines turn by turn I knew our love was born to burn At home they lived in my blue box Hard to break like igneous rocks Now the box has priceless value For saving the love for me and you Now my lines find a safe avenue To embrace integrity and virtue Then I sang for you with my violin Now I hold it more under my chin I am like the box or the loyal bird Each time i try to keep my word
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Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 4:33 AM UTC
THE BOX
Her skin shines like a newly smoked earthenware Beauty glows on her like the colourful scarlet Of a newly married hindi woman And her perfection; so refreshing as the early morning rising sun. She is a lady; Yes! A lady of class Full of Glamour like the glitz awards The African night sky with her stars of hope are nothing Compared to the grace that adorns her. Her smile lights up my world Love; her greatest charm Smile, her sweetest perfume Her words are more soul touching than the hard-bop tone of Lee morgan's side-winder She is a woman ; An African woman , the best of women The sound of her name sends chilled thrills down my spine like Water from a fountain quenches thirst in spring. Nhammie as i passionately call her, So have i missed every single minute that flew past when we are not together I stand tall like the great iroko tree amongst great trees to mention her name; Nana Ama!!! Yes! Nana Ama She is a woman An African woman of substance and of Great virtue.
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Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 9:24 AM UTC
Nana Ama
I was a young maiden when I had you. At first, It was just a flash. Oh heavens!!! Such a purity. Your beauty was such that slapped the strongest of men, Your depth humbled the most arrogant of them I ever met. When you stayed, All wondered. Never let anyone away without a laughter. Your shadow I saw my lips stuttered. The days decided to be two decades through the night, Yet I held you as a treasure through the flight. Too precious to be drowned in my mind, Now tells me why your crown was taken to a hive. You may not know how firm I stood with bows and knife. I took down one I thought was a foe. The blood that day from there still flows, Then I knew you bowed and left your might. Four score five today. I still wish, Wish that that Iroko in the centre of Igbo Olodumare still stood. But alas!! The low in wisdom conspired, And cut down the most admired. Oh, my dear My world My TAMAYA!!!
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May 24, 2020
May 24, 2020 at 7:43 PM UTC
TAMAYA
Loneliness is my companion, Silence has been an inspiration, So I sat under that iroko tree, Me, myself and I making us three! Devil talks and angels whispers, I traveled when I vibe, Oracles murmur, ascenstors watch, To my beloved Lucy, a woman I believe To be rare! The wind blows from my head to the east, I see beyond Albert telescope, But too afraid to write, Cause I lost my light! I lost the grip of my pen! The talks, murmurs and whispers override My heart and hand! heart, I became clueless, I lost my consciousness!
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Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 2:33 PM UTC
I lost the grip of my pen
Ayinke mi, eleyinju aro Your arms comforts me... like ēka iroko your eyes... so colourful like rainbow light and your cuticle smiles.... gives ah heavenly sight Nibo lo wa, Ayinke mi owon Omo to rewa ti o la 'bawon Our heart has been intertwine to one So living alone suffocates my lungs What else could I have hoped Luxuries and gold, don't want none of that The doctor said I've been diagnosed And ife re nikan lo le mu mi lara da Ayinke mi, igbawo lo' made If you want me to, I'll forever wait Cos you're worth more than okuta iyebiye I'll spend all I have.... mi o ko iyekiye To make my heart' the home you forever stay
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Aug 27, 2023
Aug 27, 2023 at 11:12 AM UTC
Ayinke
(Dedicated to the late Prof Chinua Achebe) Mountain ranges in the east wind, Like wet dew on a grass. Amid soggy tears, Enthusiasm denies us. Squeal of gongs and drums Sound throughout the land, North and South: Poignant blood runs through our veins. Indeed, things have fallen apart... Spring thunder -The Iroko has fallen! Albert Chinualumogu Achebe. You it was who issued the great call For us to rebel against despotic rule. A glittering colossus among literati, With an esoteric mastery of proverbial dictions. The literary luminary and patriot, It's the very best we have had. Storms of the societal reformation have brought a flowering of heroes on the land. In the wind and thunder of cultural revolution, The rising sun casts a myriad reflections. Achebe's thought glows golden bright, Struggle-criticism-transformation; flowering everywhere. Though the dogged messenger has become silent, The candid message-wave still dance in my ear, I wipe warm tears from my eyes, And press my hand to my throbbing heart, Keeping the peerless books in my ***** Oh yes! Achebe was here, And we felt his magical pen. Adieu! Great Iroko of our land. © A. O. Nwulia Literary Diary 2013
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Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 3:26 AM UTC
Wisdom From His Ink
I was once a bamboo tree, bending over for everyone to climb, dancing in the wind by the moonlight. Listening to the flute and the songs of the birds. I am the feed of the animals, I took in their farts smelling all around me. Now am taller and stronger. I was once a young iroko tree, standing tall with dignity and pride. I am matured, and become like an umbrella for shade. My presence alludes strength. But now i am the sacred dwarf iroko, the mysterious anunuebe tree of which no one or any living thing is allowed to come near or approach or fly over without serious consequences. No one can climb me, it is not allowed. The once loved is now the abhorred, revered and respected. I'm no longer bending over for anyone and will not allow anyone to climb all over me. You must approach with respect to be allowed entrance. This is my natural stance. ©2019,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
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Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 2:06 PM UTC
DANCING IN THE WIND
Like a prophet in a trance I saw the gathering of black snakes, Among them is a giant black snake Whose size and nature Falls on the retina of every eyes, Like an Iroko tree In the mist of other trees. He is a strong and proud creature Like the Barbary Lion, As the king of his region, He stays on the greener pasture. But as I look closer My eyes began to see my ears, And my tongue touches my nose; For the other black snakes Were like the seven thin cows In Pharaoh's dream; They were eating better Walking faster, And getting greater Than the giant black snake. Then I look even closer As confusion and curiosity Beats the drums of my heart, I gradually found my foot On the ground of reality As I realize that, The giant black snake Has thirty six heads And thirty six tails With one body. Different heads With different tongues, Different tongues with different tastes So they move in different directions In search of different foods To quench their different tastes. As to this different goals They fight themselves Only those whose tongues share same taste Walks in the same direction. While the body preaches Unity and faith, Peace and progress The different heads preaches Tribalism and division, Inequality and oppression- This has given birth to The crocodile smile and The python dance in The heart of the giant black snake. Waking up from my trance, I realize the giant black snake Can be a GREAT giant black snake And see beyond his limit Like a soaring eagle Only if, the whole thirty six heads Walks in the same direction Despite their different tongues For their is strength in UNITY The ant can explain better. ..........The end.......
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Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 11:59 AM UTC
THE GIANT BLACK SNAKE
Like a prophet in a trance I saw the gathering of black snakes, Among them is a giant black snake Whose size and nature Falls on the retina of every eyes, Like an Iroko tree In the mist of other trees. He is a strong and proud creature Like the Barbary Lion, As the king of his region, He stays on the greener pasture. But as I look closer My eyes began to see my ears, And my tongue touches my nose; For the other black snakes Were like the seven thin cows In Pharaoh's dream; They were eating better Walking faster, And getting greater Than the giant black snake. Then I look even closer As confusion and curiosity Beats the drums of my heart, I gradually found my foot On the ground of reality As I realize that, The giant black snake Has thirty six heads And thirty six tails With one body. Different heads With different tongues, Different tongues with different tastes So they move in different directions In search of different foods To quench their different tastes. As to this different goals They fight themselves Only those whose tongues share same taste Walks in the same direction. While the body preaches Unity and faith, Peace and progress The different heads preaches Tribalism and division, Inequality and oppression- This has given birth to The crocodile smile and The python dance in The heart of the giant black snake. Waking up from my trance, I realize the giant black snake Can be a GREAT giant black snake And see beyond his limit Like a soaring eagle Only if, the whole thirty six heads Walks in the same direction Despite their different tongues For their is strength in UNITY The ant can explain better. ..........The end.......
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62
Slumbering all night On the cradle of comfort. Mixing the oil of night With the wax of sleep. Conjuring the day to night. Protruding womb of the day Howling for the birth of light Unfolding the mantle of darkness Awake from timing slumbering. Awake from caging nightmare, Awake from the deadening slumbering Awake now Ma'am Jonah. Conquering gnome of darkness Standing beneath the shades of the iroko tree. Poachers of darkness hunting for the river's manna. Mauraders of darkness peeping through the lintel of trials. Awake from sluggish slumbering Awake afresh into the newness of dawn. Awake Ma'am Jonah.
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Nov 2, 2019
Nov 2, 2019 at 10:50 PM UTC
SINGING FOR MA'AM JONAH
You came, saw and conquered I'll tell your story to the world One of our greatest Ambassador How did you even survive? While putting Nigeria on the world map? This is the story the Ajala, The Globetrotter Life in itself is a journey At one time in our soujourn We have been caught by your bug I'm sorry if you are of the indomie generation We all, at some point have cauht it The Ajalabug, amplied by Chief Commander Ebenezer Obey Mashood Olabisi Ajala Rest well with your ancestors We have not stopped our "Ajala" That makes you larger than life Evergreen in our mind and soul But "Sha", you can pedal for Africa 40 countries, 9 months, 30,000 miles Give it up to a man of the people In your soujourn you met principalities and powers Men and women of timber and iroko Penned great memoirs first hand You browsed different inter-continental softwares And deposited droplets of yourself And insignia of a world citizen Then landed "White Witch Doctor" by Fox All, for the love of Ajala Did you actually meant to end it When you mounted that 80 footed mast? Faraway in God's own country Or was it just a ruse; "a lamber?" Thank God you were deported to England Not to your nation, so rich, so poor That you may continue your escapades And your name linger forever As a man of ink and paper You inspired my generation Hence I wanted to appreciate you specially Your feat, none in this generation has surpassed Lest they gas out before they start out You were even imprisoned In faraway whiteman's land But it never supressed your zest Today and forever, "Ajala still travels all over the world" Wait, aren't we all "Ajala?"
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May 17, 2020
May 17, 2020 at 2:56 PM UTC
Ajala
You came, saw and conquered I'll tell your story to the world One of our greatest Ambassador How did you even survive? While putting Nigeria on the world map? This is the story the Ajala, The Globetrotter Life in itself is a journey At one time in our soujourn We have been caught by your bug I'm sorry if you are of the indomie generation We all, at some point have cauht it The Ajalabug, amplied by Chief Commander Ebenezer Obey Mashood Olabisi Ajala Rest well with your ancestors We have not stopped our "Ajala" That makes you larger than life Evergreen in our mind and soul But "Sha", you can pedal for Africa 40 countries, 9 months, 30,000 miles Give it up to a man of the people In your soujourn you met principalities and powers Men and women of timber and iroko Penned great memoirs first hand You browsed different inter-continental softwares And deposited droplets of yourself And insignia of a world citizen Then landed "White Witch Doctor" by Fox All, for the love of Ajala Did you actually meant to end it When you mounted that 80 footed mast? Faraway in God's own country Or was it just a ruse; "a lamber?" Thank God you were deported to England Not to your nation, so rich, so poor That you may continue your escapades And your name linger forever As a man of ink and paper You inspired my generation Hence I wanted to appreciate you specially Your feat, none in this generation has surpassed Lest they gas out before they start out You were even imprisoned In faraway whiteman's land But it never supressed your zest Today and forever, "Ajala still travels all over the world" Wait, aren't we all "Ajala?"
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°Common sense please help me Law my days [Ōrīēnte Înçānte Wînd whispering]. The discourse of Isè & Ämen Seth a cain & a bell clock a spehrical compass a balance scale for a frequency sequential key care to eternal everlasting forever °smile. Listen to the seed that turn into a firm root the Iroko tree advise, how you dress your death bed is how you lay on it. Aviod err & mistake If you must sow ³cord as talent on a good soil I swam the tough sea of desire & intention I seek no shore as the dead of the night I'm Èl--- Thought business 101 Out of the eater came something to eat, and out of the strong came something sweet. Yes, eat honey 🍯for it is sweet eat honey, my child, for it is good; honey from the comb is sweet to your taste, also know that groomed wisdom is sweet to your body Star-dustedly. if you find it, there is a future hope for you, and your hope will not be cut off Guathama Go darkness bright Ideas sleep like an angel low. The Seed data; • CourtParadise+OccultNubian °Læd³ Dâ Hū {³Hàír-Īfé-Bell-Åî Hella'Hadeẞ Of UrBabylon HâmKemetic-Kush'Sheol} ETERNAL EVERLASTING FOREVER ÍFÌNĪTY ³COOL LIVING °SMIL3• Ifé-6ix electro-mechaniced voodoo stream Arreal {my children} When the two rivers meet they'll mate the river  "errand & homly" of ancient & modern and then you'll be satisfied fulfilled eternally everlasting forever smile living flow•
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Dec 20, 2022
Dec 20, 2022 at 10:13 PM UTC
•Oness Unionfication posited Perfecthood•