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"yoruba" poems
African woman Mother of civilization. Oh beautiful woman, Thou are beyond description. African woman Queen of the people of Mamba. Jambo to all those in heaven Bless you too my dear mama. African woman Royal Nubian Queen. The backbone of her man You'll do anything to help him win. Single Black woman Made of broken pieces You're the breadwinner,Superwoman. You're the symbol of strength in all places. African woman Daughter of Eve's. Thou are God's true specimen, And the apple of his eyes. Black woman Daughter of Africa. Blueprint of a **** woman, Dark hue of coffee arabica. African woman Mother of humanity Chieftess of ancient Nyngoman, Mama Africa's bounty. African woman My Mandingo bride. First woman of Africa's Eden Center of God's black tribe. Nigerian woman My Yoruba Queen. Envied by the women of Oman, Cafe ou lair, cream of Africa's cream! Warrior woman, Queen of Wakanda. Come and flip your wand, Find the soul of Sarafina. Curvy woman In your womb lies Africa's future. My Lormah woman Oyobuays marvels at your structure. Beautiful woman, Perpetual envy of the silicon woman. Pride of the Black man, The essence of a real woman. Indigo Woman Lillies of the African plains. Thou are Eve of the African Eden, Best of the portraits that nature paints. Voluptous woman, Full, thick natural lips. Real assert of the Black woman, Nature gets aroused by your hips. Ellen Sirleaf, today's woman, Africa's first female president. A Liberian woman, Loved and revered wherever she went. Smile ,Gambian woman, You're daughter of Sarakunda. Roots of the Black American woman, Captives of the kanda Bolinga. South African woman Mariam Makeba Sang for freedom and fought like a man You were truly Soweto's finest Deva. Dark ebony woman, You are red, yellow and green. Hanmatan wind stops at your command, Born to slay and be seen. African woman Thou are the only reason God put Adam in a coma. Your perpetual beauty transcends time and Season. African woman, Under your cleavage, the Nile flows And between your fingers, golden threads are woven, You are the reason Beyonce glows. Harriet Tubman, brave woman Smuggled slaves underground. She was a freed Black slave woman, Who avowed to leave no soul behind. Creative woman Maya Angelou, gifted poetess. Famous writer and a Black woman Will be remembered for her poetic prowess. Native African woman, Africa's limestone and cement. A mother, a wife, virtuous woman, Lioness and the spine of the continent. Liberian woman Roots of my poetry, you gave me life You are every woman. Your edges are sharper than the Sumarais knife. #IvanBrookspoetry© 13/8/2018
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Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 4:56 AM UTC
African Woman
African woman Mother of civilization. Oh beautiful woman, Thou are beyond description. African woman Queen of the people of Mamba. Jambo to all those in heaven Bless you too my dear mama. African woman Royal Nubian Queen. The backbone of her man You'll do anything to help him win. Single Black woman Made of broken pieces You're the breadwinner,Superwoman. You're the symbol of strength in all places. African woman Daughter of Eve's. Thou are God's true specimen, And the apple of his eyes. Black woman Daughter of Africa. Blueprint of a **** woman, Dark hue of coffee arabica. African woman Mother of humanity Chieftess of ancient Nyngoman, Mama Africa's bounty. African woman My Mandingo bride. First woman of Africa's Eden Center of God's black tribe. Nigerian woman My Yoruba Queen. Envied by the women of Oman, Cafe ou lair, cream of Africa's cream! Warrior woman, Queen of Wakanda. Come and flip your wand, Find the soul of Sarafina. Curvy woman In your womb lies Africa's future. My Lormah woman Oyobuays marvels at your structure. Beautiful woman, Perpetual envy of the silicon woman. Pride of the Black man, The essence of a real woman. Indigo Woman Lillies of the African plains. Thou are Eve of the African Eden, Best of the portraits that nature paints. Voluptous woman, Full, thick natural lips. Real assert of the Black woman, Nature gets aroused by your hips. Ellen Sirleaf, today's woman, Africa's first female president. A Liberian woman, Loved and revered wherever she went. Smile ,Gambian woman, You're daughter of Sarakunda. Roots of the Black American woman, Captives of the kanda Bolinga. South African woman Mariam Makeba Sang for freedom and fought like a man You were truly Soweto's finest Deva. Dark ebony woman, You are red, yellow and green. Hanmatan wind stops at your command, Born to slay and be seen. African woman Thou are the only reason God put Adam in a coma. Your perpetual beauty transcends time and Season. African woman, Under your cleavage, the Nile flows And between your fingers, golden threads are woven, You are the reason Beyonce glows. Harriet Tubman, brave woman Smuggled slaves underground. She was a freed Black slave woman, Who avowed to leave no soul behind. Creative woman Maya Angelou, gifted poetess. Famous writer and a Black woman Will be remembered for her poetic prowess. Native African woman, Africa's limestone and cement. A mother, a wife, virtuous woman, Lioness and the spine of the continent. Liberian woman Roots of my poetry, you gave me life You are every woman. Your edges are sharper than the Sumarais knife. #IvanBrookspoetry© 13/8/2018
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98
#Ogun owed Oxun for the fee he paid to divorce Yemayá in the watery deep. Babalu Aye‘s messenger delayed (no *** in the bargain – price too steep) until San Martín, divine caballero deceived the third wife of el Indio Guerrero. (Obatala‘s beats got lost in transit the rhythm robbed by macumba-bandit.) Eleguá cleared paths for He Who Opens Pores. Black roosters smoked puros at midnight. Outdoors, Santa Muerte was asked to turn down the noise so Nana Buluku could get some sleep. As she gathered Ashé, reduced to a heap of Yoruba fool’s gold anointed with blood Oduduwa pretended he understood; but his mother-in-law knew he never would until Olódùmarè returned from the feast having sacrificed roosters while facing east. The santero drew me a pictogram to protect me from forces my poem conjured but the blood of a sacrificed perfect lamb affords more protection, I knew. He wondered.
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Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 8:39 PM UTC
Santería
Lack of money is lack of friends; if you have money at your disposal, every dog and goat will claim to be related to you. ~ Yoruba War has no eyes ~ Swahili saying There can be no peace without understanding. ~Senegalese proverb A leader who does not take advice is not a leader. ~ Kenyan proverb If there is character, ugliness becomes beauty; if there is none, beauty becomes ugliness. ~Nigerian Proverb Unity is strength, division is weakness. ~ Swahili proverb Wisdom does not come overnight. ~ Somali proverb Knowledge without wisdom is like water in the sand. ~ Guinean proverb Home affairs are not talked about on the public square. ~ African proverb Show me your friend and I will show you your character. ~ African proverb Make some money but don’t let money make you. ~ Tanzania When you are rich, you are hated; when you are poor, you are despised. - African proverb A man who uses force is afraid of reasoning. ~Kenyan proverb Traveling is learning. ~Kenyan Proverb What you learn is what you die with. ~ African proverb He who is destined for power does not have to fight for it. ~ Ugandan proverb It takes a village to raise a child. ~ African proverb Poverty is slavery. ~Somalia The wealth which enslaves the owner isn’t wealth. ~ Yoruba Much wealth brings many enemies. – Swahili You are beautiful, but learn to work, for you cannot eat your beauty. ~Congolese Proverb A pretty face and fine clothes do not make character. ~Congolese Proverb Show me your friend and I will show you your character. ~ African proverb A close friend can become a close enemy.~ African proverb
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Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 5:41 PM UTC
African Proverbs
Lack of money is lack of friends; if you have money at your disposal, every dog and goat will claim to be related to you. ~ Yoruba War has no eyes ~ Swahili saying There can be no peace without understanding. ~Senegalese proverb A leader who does not take advice is not a leader. ~ Kenyan proverb If there is character, ugliness becomes beauty; if there is none, beauty becomes ugliness. ~Nigerian Proverb Unity is strength, division is weakness. ~ Swahili proverb Wisdom does not come overnight. ~ Somali proverb Knowledge without wisdom is like water in the sand. ~ Guinean proverb Home affairs are not talked about on the public square. ~ African proverb Show me your friend and I will show you your character. ~ African proverb Make some money but don’t let money make you. ~ Tanzania When you are rich, you are hated; when you are poor, you are despised. - African proverb A man who uses force is afraid of reasoning. ~Kenyan proverb Traveling is learning. ~Kenyan Proverb What you learn is what you die with. ~ African proverb He who is destined for power does not have to fight for it. ~ Ugandan proverb It takes a village to raise a child. ~ African proverb Poverty is slavery. ~Somalia The wealth which enslaves the owner isn’t wealth. ~ Yoruba Much wealth brings many enemies. – Swahili You are beautiful, but learn to work, for you cannot eat your beauty. ~Congolese Proverb A pretty face and fine clothes do not make character. ~Congolese Proverb Show me your friend and I will show you your character. ~ African proverb A close friend can become a close enemy.~ African proverb
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24
Is it really this hard to find people I can go back and forth in discussion with about Buddhist and Hindu theology compared and contrasted against Christian and Yoruba I want to scream and shout and dance with somebody over Janet Jackson's new album and at the same time feel the heat and talk with somebody about how extremely sad and depressing but oh so good Giovanni's Room was I want to be able to speak with somebody whom can quote Malcolm X and Kafka in the same breath Somebody who could see the logic of Pac and Immortal Technique on the same piece with the Budos Band or Mulatu on the back track I want to know people whom know just exactly who Suki Lee and Bayard Rustin are can we talk about Jacob Kinohoor's *** at least for a moment then get into some B.B. King or Johnny Cash have you seen Dune the one from the eighties James McAvoy shirtless as well as John Goodman’s acting were only good things about the other if you read it even better what about the ***** that sat by the door Or killer clowns from outer space let's be shady and point out all the inaccuracies on the history and discovery and channels praying for that day that's not in February They show Shaka Zulu in full without commercial interruption Or maybe a documentary about native American people with actual native actors that do not depict them all as either plains people Or Inuit Cause you already know not everybody is Eskimo then let's put on our own private production of legally blonde followed by encore presentations of the classic scene Of Miss Celie and miss Ofelia going in over Harpo can I discuss with you how the Patriot act nullifies everything in constitution And the bill of rights even though they never were intended to be permanent any way It would be nice to not have to explain a Corporatocracy all my life Ive been into Egyptology You do know that Imhotep was the actual founder of medicine by a good 2000 years not that Hippocrat the thing is I'm still learning when attempt to delve that deeply into people which I don't even consider that deep They often misunderstand They often concluded without thinking maybe just maybe ©Christopher F. Brown 2015
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May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
I'm not trying to **** I'm trying to see you in 3D
Is it really this hard to find people I can go back and forth in discussion with about Buddhist and Hindu theology compared and contrasted against Christian and Yoruba I want to scream and shout and dance with somebody over Janet Jackson's new album and at the same time feel the heat and talk with somebody about how extremely sad and depressing but oh so good Giovanni's Room was I want to be able to speak with somebody whom can quote Malcolm X and Kafka in the same breath Somebody who could see the logic of Pac and Immortal Technique on the same piece with the Budos Band or Mulatu on the back track I want to know people whom know just exactly who Suki Lee and Bayard Rustin are can we talk about Jacob Kinohoor's *** at least for a moment then get into some B.B. King or Johnny Cash have you seen Dune the one from the eighties James McAvoy shirtless as well as John Goodman’s acting were only good things about the other if you read it even better what about the ***** that sat by the door Or killer clowns from outer space let's be shady and point out all the inaccuracies on the history and discovery and channels praying for that day that's not in February They show Shaka Zulu in full without commercial interruption Or maybe a documentary about native American people with actual native actors that do not depict them all as either plains people Or Inuit Cause you already know not everybody is Eskimo then let's put on our own private production of legally blonde followed by encore presentations of the classic scene Of Miss Celie and miss Ofelia going in over Harpo can I discuss with you how the Patriot act nullifies everything in constitution And the bill of rights even though they never were intended to be permanent any way It would be nice to not have to explain a Corporatocracy all my life Ive been into Egyptology You do know that Imhotep was the actual founder of medicine by a good 2000 years not that Hippocrat the thing is I'm still learning when attempt to delve that deeply into people which I don't even consider that deep They often misunderstand They often concluded without thinking maybe just maybe ©Christopher F. Brown 2015
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59
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
The creator of the universe Our whole existence Our tradition and way of life The beginning and the end The divination and religion Of our people Odu Ifa our literary corpus The grand priest of Ifa The mantle of Olodumare The builder of the Ifa Oracle Ile-Ife your city of abode Orunmila, Orirun ile Yoruba The master of Aseda and Akoda The Aalafin of Yoruba land The Ooni of the Yoruba mantle Our spiritual system of existence Orunmila, The supreme being The Orisa of all orisas Esu bows at your feet Obatala trembles at your voice Ogun makes an obeisance at your sight Osun lays down at your coming Yemonja proclaims your might The divination of Ifa The prophecy of the Yoruba heritage The founder of earthly beings The Ese Ifa Orunmila The principal Odu Written by Tosan Oluwakemi Thompson
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Mar 18, 2020
Mar 18, 2020 at 12:26 PM UTC
Orunmila
You pick every word I say With rapt attention. So I tell you about tangerine skies In Vermont, how I shape them. I tell you my dad invented Cuban cigars In Argentina. You heard about the prawns, The ***** and the lilies. A story only I could tell. I could tell it in fluent Yoruba. You watch me sleep like I don't have a care in this world Snorting away while chasing dragonflies and seahorses In my oblivion. You watch me walk in the shadows My gait like gridless frames of a restless gate blown open by the wind. (If I was the night, I would be bright.) Finally you see my hands well adapted to cutlasses and owes, Irrespective experienced with oriental oils and manicures. 'One day I will be king', I thought I said. But you heard it from my mind. You heard it alone. Yesterday we owed this to ourselves. Tomorrow we will be lovers Today let's be friends.
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May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 5:24 AM UTC
From Friends To Lovers
I was about running for safety when she said she love me what is love? on this my empty pockets her onkempt hair and hungry eyes i knew she was a spider though my heart is deaf Igbo love is costlier in the market how-come this Yoruba lady money in the morning, money clockwise there is no juice left in me lady, your web had caught nothing and your tricks I've known.
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Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 7:24 AM UTC
Fake Love
The world understands nay struggle: It is like speaking French in China, Or Yoruba in Greece, or in Ghana Arabic--it's a communication horrible! But success, however awkward It doth sound, has an audible voice, Which is louder than the clangours Of thunders that ring from heavenward. The speech of poorness is scarcely Heard in one's kith and kin's ears; Whilst riches talk with dainty lips, Whether foul tunes out they breathe.
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Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 10:14 AM UTC
Able Audience
Above all reigns Zambi Kumbo. Father of men, father of things, father of insects. The non-created, the beginning, void of a beginning, of all and any beginning. The sacred is present in all instants and all instances. All life is sacred and in it’s core are human beings. The whole is anthropocentric and critical: human beings, man, center of creation, spins the axis of good and evil. I believe in the visible and the invisible, in the interaction between these two worlds. The natural and the supernatural are inseparable. There are other realities beyond the visible, man is not purely flesh, there is spirit and heart and values beyond our eyes. I summon the sun by tangu, which means time, present time, time instance, favorable time, precise time. To ask for the time, one should voice “what sun is it?" The sun drifts on the ocean between life and death. When the sun disappears in the horizon it is a canoe carrying souls to the afterlife. I sit on an ivory chair and wear bracelets of ivory and iron, artistic woven fabric, certain hides set aside only for me, an embroidered cap on my head, and a zebra tail on my shoulder. Kneel, chuck dust above your head, and beg for my blessing. I’ll stretch out my hands and wriggle my fingers to bless you. I am Nagô-Yoruba! I am Okanran kandi abo! Son of Xangô, son of Ketú, son of Egba. E-e-e-o eya-o Great Mother, y-aa-o Black Beauty, womb of the wind, creator of the wind that tangles the wild bush, creator of the wind that tangles the fields, creator of the thoughts in my head.
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May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 4:19 PM UTC
I am Okanran kandi abo, son of Xangô
Above all reigns Zambi Kumbo. Father of men, father of things, father of insects. The non-created, the beginning, void of a beginning, of all and any beginning. The sacred is present in all instants and all instances. All life is sacred and in it’s core are human beings. The whole is anthropocentric and critical: human beings, man, center of creation, spins the axis of good and evil. I believe in the visible and the invisible, in the interaction between these two worlds. The natural and the supernatural are inseparable. There are other realities beyond the visible, man is not purely flesh, there is spirit and heart and values beyond our eyes. I summon the sun by tangu, which means time, present time, time instance, favorable time, precise time. To ask for the time, one should voice “what sun is it?" The sun drifts on the ocean between life and death. When the sun disappears in the horizon it is a canoe carrying souls to the afterlife. I sit on an ivory chair and wear bracelets of ivory and iron, artistic woven fabric, certain hides set aside only for me, an embroidered cap on my head, and a zebra tail on my shoulder. Kneel, chuck dust above your head, and beg for my blessing. I’ll stretch out my hands and wriggle my fingers to bless you. I am Nagô-Yoruba! I am Okanran kandi abo! Son of Xangô, son of Ketú, son of Egba. E-e-e-o eya-o Great Mother, y-aa-o Black Beauty, womb of the wind, creator of the wind that tangles the wild bush, creator of the wind that tangles the fields, creator of the thoughts in my head.
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30
If not for love, I would have done it If not for love, she would have said it I was just a kind heart, who wished for every good thing Oh now I know, everything can't be good as I want it There's always a bad side She was just a fair skin, who wished for every beautiful thing, Oh now she knows, everything can't be beautiful as she wants it There's is always an ugly side Together always, we cared less of square pegs and round holes Now issues brings concerns; we take note of every err and bad thoughts Bring back the days of old; when we loved like Romeo and Juliet Bring back the times past; when we had each others back like Bonnie and Clyde Please let us bring back the you, and the me, that became the us And hopefully, we could bring back again, everything we kept away For love is good, and it is good to be loved; One body for one good If not for love, I would have left you If not for love, she would have said it was over And if not for love, we would have been asunder   If not for love, I wouldn't have done it If not for love,  they wouldn't have done it My belief is different, and my faith is in God of all things Oh now I know, we may not be the same, though we have one maker There are Christians, and there are Muslims They worship in their ways, and they call on God for all things Oh now they know, we may not be alike, though we have one creator There are blacks, and there are whites Together always, we shared festive moods & feasts Now politics in between; we pick every fault & differences Bring back the old days; when we lived as brothers and sisters Bring back the past times; when we protected each other and kept one another Please let us bring back The Yoruba, and The Hausa and The Ibo that became one Nation And hopefully, we could #bringbackourgirls, that were taken away For God is love and love is God; One People under one God If not for love, I wouldn't have embraced them again If not for love, they wouldn't have invited me over And if not for love, we wouldn't have lived together   URBAN HOUSE POETRY© HOLOGRAPHIC UNIVERSE™
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May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 5:12 PM UTC
IF NOT FOR LOVE
If not for love, I would have done it If not for love, she would have said it I was just a kind heart, who wished for every good thing Oh now I know, everything can't be good as I want it There's always a bad side She was just a fair skin, who wished for every beautiful thing, Oh now she knows, everything can't be beautiful as she wants it There's is always an ugly side Together always, we cared less of square pegs and round holes Now issues brings concerns; we take note of every err and bad thoughts Bring back the days of old; when we loved like Romeo and Juliet Bring back the times past; when we had each others back like Bonnie and Clyde Please let us bring back the you, and the me, that became the us And hopefully, we could bring back again, everything we kept away For love is good, and it is good to be loved; One body for one good If not for love, I would have left you If not for love, she would have said it was over And if not for love, we would have been asunder   If not for love, I wouldn't have done it If not for love,  they wouldn't have done it My belief is different, and my faith is in God of all things Oh now I know, we may not be the same, though we have one maker There are Christians, and there are Muslims They worship in their ways, and they call on God for all things Oh now they know, we may not be alike, though we have one creator There are blacks, and there are whites Together always, we shared festive moods & feasts Now politics in between; we pick every fault & differences Bring back the old days; when we lived as brothers and sisters Bring back the past times; when we protected each other and kept one another Please let us bring back The Yoruba, and The Hausa and The Ibo that became one Nation And hopefully, we could #bringbackourgirls, that were taken away For God is love and love is God; One People under one God If not for love, I wouldn't have embraced them again If not for love, they wouldn't have invited me over And if not for love, we wouldn't have lived together   URBAN HOUSE POETRY© HOLOGRAPHIC UNIVERSE™
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38
The Sixteen Sacred Palm-Nuts of Yoruba all enclosed in my fists, ready to spread holiness in Uganda and Baja California. I slept last night at the beach after a long hike down the Sierra Madres. (The Blackhawks were facing the kings of the western region tribe of Tongva, and if I were to be a spectator the privileged white male would win: so I didn't want to sin). No more. I went to Rent-A-Whore, that sunny afternoon. To my surprise it was stationed at the shore. Those were my goon days when I followed the guru      Long hair, beaded necklaces, and silk indigenous shirts from Nayarit. Just to **** Hunab Ku For you.
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May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 6:08 PM UTC
AND NOW SOMETHING GREATER THAN SOLOMON IS HERE
She's beautiful And young But she is afraid of love She wouldn't want to cry again Since her dear one ran away You loved her But she's not who mama wants ; She's yoruba. You can't look at her anymore Ever since you rose her belly up And left to marry Amaka The girl is sad She is tired of life Not knowing who to confide in Or share her pain with Because you too don't care Just like her only dear You are busy biting her skin With the stigma you show! She's just a kid And should be in school, we know. But you led her on to this road You told her not what she should have known You thought children of 'adays know But look...Ola is now one month old She feels bad But you're now a father Why not be glad? No.. You still fear her father And not anymore in love with her You bring her fresh tears But shower Amaka with care And look... Your baby is fatherless Or without a father's care? You may have broken her, You all... But not her beauty For inside her lies preciousness Like every other girl child And take her as your pride Even though she's not your heir And don't break her heart Even if you stopped to care oh! not to throw her out, If she has ever erred Oh child, Show care. ........................................................... ©Uzor
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Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 8:31 PM UTC
'Broken but Beautiful'
English I wake up I bath I work I finish I go home I sleep I repeat French je me réveille je prends un bain je travaille je termine je rentre à la maison je dors je répète Yoruba Mo ji Mo wẹ Mo sise Mo pari Mo lọ si ile Mo sun Mo tun ṣe Arabic استيقظت أنا حمام أعمل أنهيت أنا أذهب للمنزل انام أكرر Japanese Watashi wa mewosamasu watashi no basu watashi wa hataraku watashi wa oeru watashi wa ienikaeru neru watashi wa kurikaesu Latin Ego surgere et bath laboro ego consummare i Vade in domum tuam ego dormio ego iterare Lithuanian aš atsikeliu Aš maudytis Aš dirbu aš baigiu aš einu namo aš miegu aš kartoju Rex Verum Regem TFK
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Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 4:07 AM UTC
Endless Terror
If you want to make heaven Marry from Enugu! You want to be successful Please marry from Anambra If you want a complete package Marry an Akwa Ibomite They attended finishing school Right under their mother's tutelage If you want to raise Professors Marry From Ekiti If you want to build empires Marry an Igbo girl They push you to success Do you want to maintain your culture? Mary a Yoruba girl If you want to be royalty Marry a Hausa girl If you don't ever want to cheat Mary and Edo girl If your relationship survived this year Despite its economic realities Please marry that one If you desire a beauty Queen Marry a Benue girl If you love good romps Marry a Calabar girl Your life will never remain the same And you will live happily ever after If you want to be loved forever Marry your friend and soulmate Listen to me my friend Don't go for looks It will fade away Don't go for money Someday it will be exhausted If you want a good partner Go down on your kneels Then, watch and pray
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Nov 21, 2019
Nov 21, 2019 at 2:42 AM UTC
If You Want To...
Last night was for Linda Crige chanting of love excitement that wakes the sleeping forest. Six rounds *** What is my concern? Nevertheless, uncle is back with Mercy Bukas. Tonight I shall spy through the keyhole. But it was not like yesterday, my eye greeted the ***** of the moment with the intensity of the sun. The night was for conversation! for conversation! "I am pregnant this is the test result, four month and two weeks." Voice seized from close range. My eye gazed uncle's mind, though it was misty.   This must be emblematic of joy I inferred. Pandemonium broke out and silenced the smiling breeze, argument ravaged the air. Uncle denied "It is for Danjuma" Not a muttered curse from the two sides. Ogun and Sango did not awake from their tranquil sleep regardless but Esu was at work. Their curse appalled my heart not once. "Who is at home to settle the rage" but rather the awaken forest was matching closer. "I never promise to marry you" uncle glued my ears with his voice of wiles. Chapter closed. Alas, a child will be born, head for uncle, dark-skinned as Danjuma, others for Alien. An unfortunate child will be born by a promiscuous mother to licentious father only if not a descendant of sewage. Ogun: god if iron Sango: god of thunder Esu: Yoruba name for satan
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Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 2:21 PM UTC
Fury conversation
Owo epo ni ara'ye n ba en la, Bi eje ba ta si die, se ni won a poora, Ki enikeni ma tan ara re je, Ko si eniyan ire mo l'aye. (Translation from Yoruba Language into English) People come around when your hands drip oily goodness, But thy disappear when those hands become ****** Let no one ever deceive themselves, There are no good people anymore, no not one.
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Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 9:42 AM UTC
OWO EPO. (OILY HANDS.)
A boy A girl Could be different in many ways just imagine it yourself I would,due to parents Yes,due to different home with one religion and different culture Or different religion , one culture Both in a special expensive clothes known as G "as far you could remember" Boy could be you "Igbo, Yoruba or hausa, Likewise the girl But goes to different schools and.attain different education with misconducts attitude towards Life As they both enjoy life in a grips of moment She forgot culture, He forgot religion, As the division of life brings difference between them She is educated and he is hard working Both Really have no reason to work together rather than to build a home of one religion and one culture . I think, Both are in love With......................................? Culture and religion.
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Dec 27, 2017
Dec 27, 2017 at 10:47 PM UTC
Religion and culture
I have a full beard Finely combed and shiny that's why when I walk, I walk with shoulder high When I smile or laugh It radiates and awaken dead soul I have a full beard it covers the skin blemishes it makes me handsome, humane and not a terrorist my beards make me proud it brings happiness and sheds depression I'd have it over all the wealth in this world, cause Islam says so Note, I speak bearable English sibe sibe omo yoruba nimi pelu i majored in law So you need not utter disrespect I pray five times daily, read the quran Every good reward I earn is mine I follow the hadith and sunnah And no, that's not a crime! You all gossip as I walk by You hate my beard because you don't understand at all But peace and power I have found As I am equal to any male! I am a Muslim So please don't pity me For God has guided me to truth And now I'm finally free! {final verse courtesy of an online source}
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Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 2:22 AM UTC
full beard
Out from the base the green mist arose The pain comes and goes. Like the neon man A flash in the pan. Life is like that For a cool,cool cat But he can't keep pulling rabbits From his old top hat. He needs a bit of time to knit things together Into a freshly knotted rhyme. If you don't give him that Then his world becomes flat and the corners are not rounded Hounded here and hounded there in a neon mist that doesn't care Because it's all typed in his head. But on the baseline we presume to be dead 'til we're woken. And we are spoken to in lyrics that inspire the inner spirits To arise. In the green mist neon dies and comes back in amber light Fight this if you can But we're all the neon man and we see the flashing crashing down Into a sultry Summer brown. A Yoruba girl came to town,Shivering slightly. I held her tightly Kissed her face. Touched her hand This woman from another land looked at me And saw not an ocean but an inland sea so full of salt it made her bolt. No rabbits in this hat My life is full of things like that. Don't leave the key within the lock I've taken stock I'm not that man. Just the pan without the flash The dot without the dash No home,no car,no cash. And after all of this and life like that I'm just a rabbit in the old top hat. And going home to have my tea I see a reflection in the window That used to be me.
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Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 3:34 PM UTC
Metered
Una voz ancestral, un tambor africano y un verso elemental peruano. El ***** en el Perú actualmente no sufre, ya no hay esclavitud ni azufre. Le dieron tibio baño en tina de jabón porque en su ama dio el germen que no tuvo el patrón. Del seno de mi abuela a mi madre brindó, el hijo del amito mamó, mamó, mamó. Y mi abuelo con su amo en la Casa ´e Jarana cantujaron de alirio, cantujaron replana. Y en la casa ´e jarana -con el Amito Viejo- bailaron mis hermanas zamacueca y festejo. El padre de mi amito de mi abuela gustó y mi abuelo a su amita burló. Yo le dijera "primo" a ese blanco travieso de cabello enrizao y de labio muy grueso... El ***** en el Perú actualmente no sufre, ya no hay esclavitud ni azufre. Más ha sufrido el ***** nuestro hermano de Cuba descendiente directo nagó, yoruba. Más ha sufrido el ***** muerto en Santo Domingo por los diarios abusos del ****** Más ha sufrido el ***** cantor de Panamá que el ***** jaranista de acá. Más ha sufrido el ***** labrador de Haití que el zambo guaragüero de aquí. Más ha sufrido el ***** del morro y la favela que mi padre y mi madre y mi abuela. En fin, más sufre el ***** de Harlem a Lousiana que nuestra gente negra peruana...   Y al "problema del ***** -segregación racial- el mundo permanece neutral. Quiero aguda mi rima como ***** de lanza. Que otra mano la esgrima si alcanza. Yo jamás con voz hurgo perentoria. Yo ja... ¡Johanesburgo! ¡Pretoria! Cuando en Johannesburgo llegue el "Día de Sangre" yo quiero estar allí, compadre. Cuando en Johannesburgo llegue el "Día de Sangre" debemos estar todos ¡Hijos de negra madre! Con la voz ancestral el machete en la mano y el verso elemental hermano.
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1.3k
Johanesburgo
Una voz ancestral, un tambor africano y un verso elemental peruano. El ***** en el Perú actualmente no sufre, ya no hay esclavitud ni azufre. Le dieron tibio baño en tina de jabón porque en su ama dio el germen que no tuvo el patrón. Del seno de mi abuela a mi madre brindó, el hijo del amito mamó, mamó, mamó. Y mi abuelo con su amo en la Casa ´e Jarana cantujaron de alirio, cantujaron replana. Y en la casa ´e jarana -con el Amito Viejo- bailaron mis hermanas zamacueca y festejo. El padre de mi amito de mi abuela gustó y mi abuelo a su amita burló. Yo le dijera "primo" a ese blanco travieso de cabello enrizao y de labio muy grueso... El ***** en el Perú actualmente no sufre, ya no hay esclavitud ni azufre. Más ha sufrido el ***** nuestro hermano de Cuba descendiente directo nagó, yoruba. Más ha sufrido el ***** muerto en Santo Domingo por los diarios abusos del ****** Más ha sufrido el ***** cantor de Panamá que el ***** jaranista de acá. Más ha sufrido el ***** labrador de Haití que el zambo guaragüero de aquí. Más ha sufrido el ***** del morro y la favela que mi padre y mi madre y mi abuela. En fin, más sufre el ***** de Harlem a Lousiana que nuestra gente negra peruana...   Y al "problema del ***** -segregación racial- el mundo permanece neutral. Quiero aguda mi rima como ***** de lanza. Que otra mano la esgrima si alcanza. Yo jamás con voz hurgo perentoria. Yo ja... ¡Johanesburgo! ¡Pretoria! Cuando en Johannesburgo llegue el "Día de Sangre" yo quiero estar allí, compadre. Cuando en Johannesburgo llegue el "Día de Sangre" debemos estar todos ¡Hijos de negra madre! Con la voz ancestral el machete en la mano y el verso elemental hermano.
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again your words garner tears i am fought from within between wretched smiles aching with the shame of words i've shared listened to, copied, written, "shared" and yet never truly shared those doors are gone: i have shared and one has listened, shining love as hot to bear as sun... refracted in my tears the warmth is as a solar flare of unexpected love-- distrusts flung of self for undeserving care, i waver-wallow, sing another cracking grasp, slurp my sniffle-ramen soup to comfort ten-year wounds all open now, shining, wincing in the sun. i would bare my bones, it seems, in urgent need to stamp the world an honest love. what have i waited for? better words to come and scare us into final sum? a final balance done, as if a math could send us there? where? where has the daylight gone and come? how old this starlight sinking from i try to laugh and fail, giving fame another final finger-flipping off as that one girl said once, long forgotten, "cradling her last fledgling flying **** and kissing it on to fated final flight" yes. discovered now by one, i heal in single sun i beg from those in shade or hurting from my blindest words a balm a balm of knowing deep i seek to undiscover harm... a balm of knowing deep the wholesome love of self that overflows to all... Mokume told me, "love them" as i struggled with their hate, he asked my love as to her love for me, he asked me of my love i held for her--and which was more, the love of self or love of her and so i wavered in the meanings love has come to bear while he taught stridently the meaning of Yoruba masks, the bowl atop the symbol-studded head the brims so overfull they shower all who look, or dare to touch its bursting river-majesty
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Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC
hurting from my blindest words, a balm
again your words garner tears i am fought from within between wretched smiles aching with the shame of words i've shared listened to, copied, written, "shared" and yet never truly shared those doors are gone: i have shared and one has listened, shining love as hot to bear as sun... refracted in my tears the warmth is as a solar flare of unexpected love-- distrusts flung of self for undeserving care, i waver-wallow, sing another cracking grasp, slurp my sniffle-ramen soup to comfort ten-year wounds all open now, shining, wincing in the sun. i would bare my bones, it seems, in urgent need to stamp the world an honest love. what have i waited for? better words to come and scare us into final sum? a final balance done, as if a math could send us there? where? where has the daylight gone and come? how old this starlight sinking from i try to laugh and fail, giving fame another final finger-flipping off as that one girl said once, long forgotten, "cradling her last fledgling flying **** and kissing it on to fated final flight" yes. discovered now by one, i heal in single sun i beg from those in shade or hurting from my blindest words a balm a balm of knowing deep i seek to undiscover harm... a balm of knowing deep the wholesome love of self that overflows to all... Mokume told me, "love them" as i struggled with their hate, he asked my love as to her love for me, he asked me of my love i held for her--and which was more, the love of self or love of her and so i wavered in the meanings love has come to bear while he taught stridently the meaning of Yoruba masks, the bowl atop the symbol-studded head the brims so overfull they shower all who look, or dare to touch its bursting river-majesty
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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
We started with love. Well, I did. I started with love when I laid eyes on her behind, Le derrière of life. I was pulled into a wormhole, only her slap could wake me up from. We slipped into hate. Well, she did. Till with my charm I pulled her right back For a Yoruba demon never gives up. A carousel going back and forth, we ride from love to hate to love again. I hate to see her go but I love to watch her leave,every single time. Today, today is no exception. She will be back. ©Belema.S.Ekine (belemascribbles)
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Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 6:18 AM UTC
CAROUSEL
This used to be normal My mother swagged in it For my Sistos, weight magic Then things fell apart When they "kayamatized" it Some only planned to wipe Clean the play head and "jakpa" They only wanted installation After the romp on waist bead They subscribed to full installation "Ana no ofu ebe ekiri mmaun" That was your slogan when you browsed You forget she is a daughter of eve Wiser than all the men in your clan Congratulations, welcome to fatherhood it ended Some scientists use this special science Never will the land be fertile As long as the gate is waistly beaded It is a covenant made with the gods For it is just but "Akamu" from an income man In my lifetime, I have seen beautiful They glow in the dark and beckons on you Crystal beads fit only for nobles If one thing must **** a man Then my cause is chosen In my sojourn as a globetrotter I have crossed many seas Swam oceans untold in foreign lands But none is as sweet as you My precious "Ileke Idi..." Babatunde Raimi +23478827380 & +2348035063895 P.S: "Ileke Idi" means waist bead in local Yoruba parlance.
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May 26, 2020
May 26, 2020 at 7:32 PM UTC
My "Ileke Idi"