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"madiba" poems
you were just one man. jailed for infinity. you never bent. stronger than steel. oppressed from day one. segregated by your skin. you were never broken. stronger than steel. the odds were against you. against your entire race. your faith never wavered. stronger than steel. i walked where you laid. where you eat, where you ran. your land gave me strength. stronger than steel. your love was so unending. your hate, no where to be found. you saved a who nation. stronger than steel. Madiba. Madiba. Nelson Mandela the original superman. Stronger then Steel.
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Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
madiba
I can't end the year this way, the title of this piece won't sway, It is not an anchor to hold the stay, but wait and listen to the choir singing as they practice in the church hall down the road, with too many cars, so listen...closely and you may hear the high notes on a night clear like this, just like this, the information that swirls on and on, about people, places and events, homeless people kicked out of the park and tents, political figures mishapen by absolute power, absolute greed, absolution to them a quick rinse in a shower, more information feed my gluttonous mind, I absorb none of it as there is newnews to find, there is a woman out there who has a reputation for causes, wicked witch in the East beyond Oz, gut check as some said world paused to remember well, so much left to do there as well, Oh Africa! The world's greed for your resources, makes nasty fodder for the choices, as to who is in charge this week. So much pain, it is plain to see I can't write about it all, it would take an eternity. A loss this year like no other, but a life to celebrate, who will Madiba motivate? Natural disaster, filled with remorse after the eye of and storm has passed, loved ones looking their loved ones lost, some evil gang backfills, a brand of poison into the the void, the pain the anguish, in lives, to steal the aid and make it their prize, to be aportioned at their will and price. And George is back in the news...sad, so many things this year that make me want to ball up my fists and punch the air, walk down the streets until I begin to shout and let it out, harm no more, harm no more, anniversaries of bullets, and little ones who touched, so many with who they were, I wonder who they would                                                                                                                   have been,     I am not being flip and this is not Christianese, but God knows as the spirits they are                                                                                and He is. There is no one poet who can say it all, there is no one place that tears did not fall, this may be a wrap up, I have left so much out and it falls so short, maybe the ink I spill is wrongly placed. Tomorrow night at midnight, let's just embrace REFRESH! not forgetting lessons learned poetic stripes maybe earned by writing or typing or wiping away tears I could go one, but that is one of my fears, ...losing you. ©DWE122013
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Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 10:04 PM UTC
Gossip, Lollipops and Flip Flops
I can't end the year this way, the title of this piece won't sway, It is not an anchor to hold the stay, but wait and listen to the choir singing as they practice in the church hall down the road, with too many cars, so listen...closely and you may hear the high notes on a night clear like this, just like this, the information that swirls on and on, about people, places and events, homeless people kicked out of the park and tents, political figures mishapen by absolute power, absolute greed, absolution to them a quick rinse in a shower, more information feed my gluttonous mind, I absorb none of it as there is newnews to find, there is a woman out there who has a reputation for causes, wicked witch in the East beyond Oz, gut check as some said world paused to remember well, so much left to do there as well, Oh Africa! The world's greed for your resources, makes nasty fodder for the choices, as to who is in charge this week. So much pain, it is plain to see I can't write about it all, it would take an eternity. A loss this year like no other, but a life to celebrate, who will Madiba motivate? Natural disaster, filled with remorse after the eye of and storm has passed, loved ones looking their loved ones lost, some evil gang backfills, a brand of poison into the the void, the pain the anguish, in lives, to steal the aid and make it their prize, to be aportioned at their will and price. And George is back in the news...sad, so many things this year that make me want to ball up my fists and punch the air, walk down the streets until I begin to shout and let it out, harm no more, harm no more, anniversaries of bullets, and little ones who touched, so many with who they were, I wonder who they would                                                                                                                   have been,     I am not being flip and this is not Christianese, but God knows as the spirits they are                                                                                and He is. There is no one poet who can say it all, there is no one place that tears did not fall, this may be a wrap up, I have left so much out and it falls so short, maybe the ink I spill is wrongly placed. Tomorrow night at midnight, let's just embrace REFRESH! not forgetting lessons learned poetic stripes maybe earned by writing or typing or wiping away tears I could go one, but that is one of my fears, ...losing you. ©DWE122013
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57
1976: black boy, black boy, we shot you -- nothing left in your small, shiny black shoes; your tidy school uniform 2013: white boy, white boy, we will not shoot you -- nothing right in your big, broken black shoes; your untidy school-form -- instead, we will not teach you white boy, we will not teach you: English is for black schools -- Madiba, Madiba: the jacarandas of Pretoria are dying; the mimosas in the bushveld have taken the Acacia tree's name and beneath the soil, the roots of South Africa are still growing, exactly the same?
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Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 3:26 PM UTC
Madiba, Madiba
Obama jetted back to Africa soaring aloft on gulf stream swank a posse of oil company execs in tow, intent on liberating Dark Continent fossil fuels from unjust underground prisons American entrepreneurs angling to get the upper hand in the high stakes global resource poker game pulled a big time race card to trump China’s full house On Goree Island, political paparazzi popped and clicked a perfect image of the neocolonial white clad President framed in a doorway filled with dark shadows and heinous memory of the unspeakable horrors of global trade leering from the portal at the Gate of No Return Obama welled with meditative epiphanies of personal seachange, and the vicissitudes of life, pondering his meteoric rise from a Land of Lincoln State Senator to American President in the span of one golden 9/11 decade At a South African University Town Hall Summit, the fist bumpin, mike droppin Prez telepromted the star struck folks with solemn universal civil rights pronouncements, wrapped in the riddle of the pursuit of peace, hidden in the enigma of the reverence for human dignity Later in the day Mr. Obama sat at the feet of a comatose Mandela; whispering into his ear why an Afghan peace eludes him, why his drone strikes rain death upon innocents and why his democratic republic defiles the civil liberties of its citizens to ransom a daily diet of fear But Madiba does not hear Mr. Obama’s feverish confessions; his ears are closed, he dreams only of the paradise of liberation he earned for his life's hard wages Music Selection: Gil Scott Heron Western Sunrise Oakland 070213 jbm
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Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 11:14 AM UTC
Obama in Africa
Obama jetted back to Africa soaring aloft on gulf stream swank a posse of oil company execs in tow, intent on liberating Dark Continent fossil fuels from unjust underground prisons American entrepreneurs angling to get the upper hand in the high stakes global resource poker game pulled a big time race card to trump China’s full house On Goree Island, political paparazzi popped and clicked a perfect image of the neocolonial white clad President framed in a doorway filled with dark shadows and heinous memory of the unspeakable horrors of global trade leering from the portal at the Gate of No Return Obama welled with meditative epiphanies of personal seachange, and the vicissitudes of life, pondering his meteoric rise from a Land of Lincoln State Senator to American President in the span of one golden 9/11 decade At a South African University Town Hall Summit, the fist bumpin, mike droppin Prez telepromted the star struck folks with solemn universal civil rights pronouncements, wrapped in the riddle of the pursuit of peace, hidden in the enigma of the reverence for human dignity Later in the day Mr. Obama sat at the feet of a comatose Mandela; whispering into his ear why an Afghan peace eludes him, why his drone strikes rain death upon innocents and why his democratic republic defiles the civil liberties of its citizens to ransom a daily diet of fear But Madiba does not hear Mr. Obama’s feverish confessions; his ears are closed, he dreams only of the paradise of liberation he earned for his life's hard wages Music Selection: Gil Scott Heron Western Sunrise Oakland 070213 jbm
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85
When I hear FEMINISM, RACISM, SEXISM, IMMIGRATION or the TORTURE OF A NATION, my mind cries and my eyes go blank. Children ****** waving to their teacher Their teacher waving back A grenade is launched and chunks of her pained memory soar through the windows of the bus. War just won't stop. In the Internet, White-washed Latinos diss their mother's birth throw stones at their father's graves. Praise Uncle Sam Although Caucasians are abusing them because of their skin pigmentation Oh great U.S.A. Who incarcerated Madiba and murdered MLK. Killed more humans than Adolf and now want to buy them. With a small piece of useless land in New Mexico and Kentucky Fried Chicken. You PATHETIC CHICKEN who wants to own the world even though you haven't been here one stinkin millennium. A decade of power and now you patrol the streets. please You can't even patrol your own streets please
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Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 11:21 AM UTC
YOU CANT EVEN PATROL YOUR OWN STREETS
He was the voice of those who had no voice, The spokesman for the oppressed. He became a true hero to the downtrodden, Who had been denied their basic human rights. There were those who tried to stop him, But he proved himself a true force of nature. Because you can arrest the man, But you can't arrest his vision. And while they could lock him in a cell, They could not lock away his ideas. And while they could put shackles on his body, They could not put shackles on his dreams. And those dreams live on, To the very ends of the Earth, In every classroom where black and white Learn side by side. In every place of worship, Where young and old gather together, In every peaceful demonstration, Where tyranny falls, and liberty reigns triumphant. And in the cry of every newborn, That they be born into a world of hope and tolerance, Where equality and civil rights are the norm. For you can bury the man, but not his beliefs. And though his voice may be silent, His spirit will live on and on. 12-31-13.
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Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
Madiba
O Madiba! Madiba your ship has finally come to rest Rest now, now rest, for peace was your bequest. Humiliated, disgraced, yet in captivity you chose By embracing your enemy, you learnt and rose. Insulted, assaulted, assaulting, at fault, Lover, Soldier, for Justice, for God’s sake! Stop work, break bread, water and salt And follow in his wake.  O Madiba! Tata Madiba you who have overcome A true mandala spun, a Nelson who has won Overcoming loneliness, cowardice and fear. Bravery but a blindness brought on by all held dear. Shame, defeated, blame, defeated, fame - Let all come, let all shake, Same blood, same, all the same, And follow in his wake.
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Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 12:07 PM UTC
O Madiba
What's the Word? candles lit held high "JOHANNESBURG!!" above the marching crowds What's the Word? Madiba "JOHANNESBURG!!" Madiba Madiba Madiba
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Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 8:57 PM UTC
Johannesburg
A man who fought for freedom Is frail and old yet remembered For all his contributions and sacrifices He made to rid all types of discrimination In the early years a Law Degree Seemed perfectly suiting Boxing made him tough like a brute But his soul-passive, polite and caring A role-model to everyone Who said, "Debate, no guns!" A peace_maker for all A teacher for all Even in darkest hours His humilty, nobility and responsibility Is but a few of what we can reap of his success 27years of incarceration All for the fight of discrimination His sacrificed time In quarries of lime A day that they remembered A day that they paraded With happiness and delight 1994 People in queues of snakes Waited for a chance to cast their first vote *We salute you TATA MADIBA Thank you for your valiant services*
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Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 1:10 PM UTC
THE PEACE_MAKER
Your legacy lives on beyond your death You were constant in prison and palaces You character was beyond fear or favour You tempered justice with abundant mercy You extended your hand of forgiveness You turned the other cheek in impossible times You taught us that reconciliation is possible You saw a future beyond the present crisis You cast off any illusion of being a hero god You taught us that freedom comes at a cost You reminded us that to lead is to serve You gave our nation and the world special gifts You gave us gifts of love, unity, faith and hope Your legacy lives on as a bright light in our hearts
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Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 3:45 AM UTC
Madiba - your life and legacy
'Tata Madiba' Father of the Nation, Today you could have been 97 years, but your journey of life was cut so short, 21 years years of democracy is what we will all remember you with, Nelson Mandela, the great fighter, you tought us to love and be in unity, your works we shall remember, may your dear soul rest in peace forever, while we still hold on to 67 minutes of Madiba day, showing our love and care for our great nation as much as you did, we love you Tata, we honour your legacy, together we still can because of your great dids, 'Halala Madiba Halala!!'
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Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 4:31 AM UTC
A Tribute to 'Tata'
HOW I MOURNED MADIBA IN EXCESS Alexander K Opicho (Eldoret, Kenya; [email protected]) Rationality is antediluvian Emotionalism is post napoleon Shrewdness comes with the queen Slyness a game of head boys Strength ist meine Kampf Bad dirgical mourning is mine The dark son of Africa My billow is love for humanity Giving a **** the tick where it is due Mourning heroes of the world That battled for songs of freedom In which cradled I the son of zinjathropus To day Nelson Mandela is born He is sired a new and again anew Not the son of a chief but humbly In humility as son of humanity
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Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 10:20 AM UTC
HOW I MOURNED MADIBA IN EXCESS
Away with the angels, Mandela, he flies away with brilliant wings, Joyfully smiling with heavenly beings, He leaves behind, hypocrites, and crocodile spells.
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Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 9:58 AM UTC
Madiba! Madiba!!
O Madiba! My Madiba! by Walt Whitman (changing the word Captain for Madiba) 1 O Madiba! my Madiba! your fearful trip is done; The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize you sought is won; The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring: But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Madiba lies, Fallen cold and dead. 2 O Madiba! my Madiba! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up-for you the flag is flung-for you the bugle trills; For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths-for you the shores a-crowding; For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Madiba! dear father! This arm beneath your head; It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead. 3 My Madiba does not answer, his lips are pale and still; My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will; The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done; From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won; Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells! But I, with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Madiba lies, Fallen cold and dead. Hi all and hope you are all well, haven't posted anything for a while but today I felt that this poem by the great Walt Whitman could pay tribute to one of my life long heroes Madiba or Nelson Mandela. I hope Walt Whitman wont mind me substituting Madiba for Captain but his beautiful Poem which he wrote after the Death of his great hero of Abraham Lincoln just fits the occasion at least I think so!. Hope you all like it. Best wishes to all Tom.
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Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 9:07 AM UTC
My Madiba! by Walt Whitman (changing the word Captain for Madiba)
O Madiba! My Madiba! by Walt Whitman (changing the word Captain for Madiba) 1 O Madiba! my Madiba! your fearful trip is done; The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize you sought is won; The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring: But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Madiba lies, Fallen cold and dead. 2 O Madiba! my Madiba! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up-for you the flag is flung-for you the bugle trills; For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths-for you the shores a-crowding; For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Madiba! dear father! This arm beneath your head; It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead. 3 My Madiba does not answer, his lips are pale and still; My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will; The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done; From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won; Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells! But I, with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Madiba lies, Fallen cold and dead. Hi all and hope you are all well, haven't posted anything for a while but today I felt that this poem by the great Walt Whitman could pay tribute to one of my life long heroes Madiba or Nelson Mandela. I hope Walt Whitman wont mind me substituting Madiba for Captain but his beautiful Poem which he wrote after the Death of his great hero of Abraham Lincoln just fits the occasion at least I think so!. Hope you all like it. Best wishes to all Tom.
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31
Arrested and convicted of sabotage, Madiba resists the Apartheid. We live and rest in good company, while counterparts seek new shelter to hide. Time has elapsed, and man discusses these changes, of the past that has rotted away, which builds upon our ignorance. Do you not see the same in existence, the backwards, in truth, which our skin folk arranges? Rewind or fast forward, backwards will remain the truth, I will remain Madiba, President of Belief. Trusting enough minds with similar desires, may place an unwarranted end to all others’ grief. Swimming through a crowd of faces, painted shades I witness unfolding. We are but fingers on a hand, separate yet together, Booker claimed this truth as a new era began molding. Yet is this era really new; Are we to believe the past is past, as I witness starvation, corrupt education, and abandoned dreams? My kin folk inform and educate my evolving mind, of hidden conceptions that my skin folk blatantly screams! I am able to speak with my mother, knowing she is safe, grateful that our family must not live in fear. But why must some of us remain unused, when our help is called for year after year? Indira has communicated, that you cannot shake hands with a clenched fist. The fingers, which are part of the whole, clasp tightly, for my skin folk, not my kin folk, are amidst. There are racial issues, undoubtedly, in the land of the free, home of the brave. And all over the world it reigns, you cannot be blind to it, that we have a modern slave. This is not a physical destruction, you will not witness it branding the skin. But a mental and spiritual deterioration, directed, and has infected, most of my kin.
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Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 5:04 PM UTC
Skin Folk - Not My Kin Folk
Arrested and convicted of sabotage, Madiba resists the Apartheid. We live and rest in good company, while counterparts seek new shelter to hide. Time has elapsed, and man discusses these changes, of the past that has rotted away, which builds upon our ignorance. Do you not see the same in existence, the backwards, in truth, which our skin folk arranges? Rewind or fast forward, backwards will remain the truth, I will remain Madiba, President of Belief. Trusting enough minds with similar desires, may place an unwarranted end to all others’ grief. Swimming through a crowd of faces, painted shades I witness unfolding. We are but fingers on a hand, separate yet together, Booker claimed this truth as a new era began molding. Yet is this era really new; Are we to believe the past is past, as I witness starvation, corrupt education, and abandoned dreams? My kin folk inform and educate my evolving mind, of hidden conceptions that my skin folk blatantly screams! I am able to speak with my mother, knowing she is safe, grateful that our family must not live in fear. But why must some of us remain unused, when our help is called for year after year? Indira has communicated, that you cannot shake hands with a clenched fist. The fingers, which are part of the whole, clasp tightly, for my skin folk, not my kin folk, are amidst. There are racial issues, undoubtedly, in the land of the free, home of the brave. And all over the world it reigns, you cannot be blind to it, that we have a modern slave. This is not a physical destruction, you will not witness it branding the skin. But a mental and spiritual deterioration, directed, and has infected, most of my kin.
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37
Through time, Stars continue to illuminate, Billions of miles, Long, long after death: R.I.P Nelson Mandela.
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Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 7:48 AM UTC
Tribute Tata Madiba
His light is out But, the sky is brighter Prisoner 46664 The Worldly fighter His battle over The fight still on Prisoner 46664 His being gone A man of compassion Now at rest His Legacy now Will be the true test His body is resting His light in the sky A man of the people No Madiba....No Cry
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Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 6:37 AM UTC
Gone...(tribute to Nelson Mandela)
No words of mine are good enough I am happy you are free again
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Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 6:08 AM UTC
Madiba
People attending the London premiere of a new film about Nelson Mandela were told of his death as the closing credits rolled, on 5th December 2013. My new poem is written in honor of the anti-apartheid icon and I invite you to read it here https://www.facebook.com/pages/Lights-Madiba-Action/345492948926266 . Like it, share it and get privileged access to my writings. Iulian-Anton Brudiu
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Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 12:10 PM UTC
Lights! Madiba! Action!
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
Who will pick up the torch and light the way again, keep us on the path of equality and right? A soldier of love and truth has fallen, the world is a more fragile place tonight. Oh young ones look deep inside yourselves with wonder, at why they could not break this little man. Take up the reigns and lead the march to freedom, pick up the torch and light the way again. "For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others."-Nelson Mandela 1918-2013
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Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 11:55 AM UTC
Madiba
Big Mama Africa Poor Mama Africa, Madiba has gone. Remember his dream & move forward, as one. Don't let his dream be put down & forgotten; by the schemes of the greedy, the rogues & the rotten. Dear, big Mama Africa, your beautiful indeed and rich enough to give your children, all that they need. So why is there such poverty, starvation and despair? There's wealth enough to go around, if everyone would share. But those who can, horde riches, far more than they need. Denying their own people, with selfishness & greed. You must get together and speak, with one voice. Across the land, shout your demand; unite and then rejoice. Briz 9/12/13
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Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 3:15 AM UTC
Big Mama Africa
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
Blooming down in the form of triangle. Making learners wonder why beetroot is around there Argument take place,clean there,broom there but scary to touch. Sgb were called in may day situation. Questioning the guard. What happened but no answers were responded. Because building were secured and unsecured because of a broken window. Some said is the period girls Some said maybe is a cat who was chopped by broken window. Lingering around like fig fruits, Ready to fall.on madiba day it became the 67 minutes of watching that miracle blood. All we had to say was only God knows what happened and only God knows how to deal with it
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Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 8:12 AM UTC
shocking blood
The air filled with discord on these killing days I sat with Biko but did nothing to help but read Finer Madiba sat busy in his cage mourning with the futile sages In disquiet Lecture halls we called and voices rose higher Then my errant pen rebelled and on paper fired in pent rage Impertinent weeping heart wedded to agile immaturity Spew words and scribble indictments bonanzas on fired lines Tis the age of reason and now it's chimes for gospel solidarity This is why 'n this is how to extract the sourness from the limes Be it the irascibility of a fledgling's dossier handed to Authority In that foolish morn and days of thunder the dye was cast Vogue tirades in contemporary suits offers designer conclusions The brothers of today embracing diversities in Structures vast In palaces pigments open wide ensuing foreboding discussions Flag immediately and contain for this is one that must not last Biko sleeps peacefully with angels and rests in God's arms Madiba walked free and danced freedom with all colours in tow A nation finds itself with a bespoke tailor and plenty of new farms Across the Atlantic a foreign voice was silenced and made to bow For youthful innocuous tantrum yelling is not quite the ****** norm copyright.12/01/2019@yensonAllrights reserved
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Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 7:17 AM UTC
You Did Not Think.......