"lawmyk" poems - Hello Poetry

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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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

27

DRUMMER BOY With your sticks You cook the beat of rationality Your omele,a preacher It's preaches sanity into an insane world Obviously you are heavenly endowed Tell sango,to come see The sticks which heat Kindle his flames The beats that lure him into dancing Mysterious drummer Even the deaf sway to your rhythm The lane raise hands To stop the quarrel between Your sticks You drummer of life Play your beat So I can tap the foot of my conscience Hit your drums For the dry bones to rise sticks of rationality Beats of sanity Are what Eledumare Has endowed you with My village drummer boy. #TheRadicalThespian __ LAWMYK ©2018

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Apr 1, 2018

Apr 1, 2018 at 8:36 AM UTC

Lawmyk2208

DRUMMER BOY

DRUMMER BOY With your sticks You cook the beat of rationality Your omele,a preacher It's preaches sanity into an insane world Obviously you are heavenly endowed Tell sango,to come see The sticks which heat Kindle his flames The beats that lure him into dancing Mysterious drummer Even the deaf sway to your rhythm The lane raise hands To stop the quarrel between Your sticks You drummer of life Play your beat So I can tap the foot of my conscience Hit your drums For the dry bones to rise sticks of rationality Beats of sanity Are what Eledumare Has endowed you with My village drummer boy. #TheRadicalThespian __ LAWMYK ©2018

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