KILLING IN WHOSE NAME?

(Ordeals of Mother Earth)

Tell them I’ve not ordered the killings
Which has resulted to the fleeing.
So, they should beware
Of what used to be rare.

Tell them water is still my favourite drink
And not blood, if that is what they think.
I’m not interested in what they enjoy
Because it makes me annoyed.

Do they need an interpreter
Before they understand the sound of wailing?
Or do they need concave lens
To see the anarchy and chaos they are causing?

If all religions condemn this horrific act
In whose name is the killing then?
See Humans roasted like sacrificial ram.
Or are they not tired of making headlines for evil?

Tell them to cease using corpses as manure
And refrain from irrigating with blood.
Citizens now live in fear
And even scared to come out to breath in fresh air.

Is man slaughter a part of their prayer rite?
Or is the spilling of blood a fundamental right?
If blood is sweet
Let them drink it in their meal, not me.

Have their hearts turned stones
That the tears of orphans don’t leave them broken?
Or are their conscience like dead stumps
That the plea of the widows don’t move them?

If they derive joy in killing
Let them proceed to work in the abattoir.
And if throwing bombs is their hobby
Let them represent their country in shot putting.

You shall not kill any (Nafs) person.
Can someone then tell me who ordered the killings ?
The voices of the innocents are crying out for vengeance.
For the Lord said He takes no pleasure even in the death of a sinner.

They’ll pay dearly for every life they take
When they meet with the Great Judge
To know their fate.
For that, I know they can’t dodge.

PS: 'Nafs' is an Arabic word for "self"(masculine noun), plural "nufoos" (selves) 

Written by: Okeme Jerome Akpevwe
Edited by: Bankole Kolawole
Image by: Luis Royo (http://dana-mad.ru/)

Of her tiny waist...

At first my hatred for her love was with pleasure
A type without measure
I never allowed her to kiss a note
And if asked to end her career, I will vote.

For I preferred to visit the land of Nod
Than pay her works a visit
Till I had an unforgettable encounter
That made me to make a bold approach.

I thought her flow will freeze
And her tube break
If my shivering hand
Take hold of her tiny waist.

Sleepless nights do I experience
If I romance not her a day
Or any relation of hers or the wets on the white sheets
Should this still be called adultery or bigamy? Hell no!

I’m now tied to her APRON strings
And walk on air when I behold her works
I think POETRY IS MY FIRST LOVE and we’ve signed a deal
Forever to be one.

Written by: Okeme Jerome
Edited by: Bankole Kolawole

The Giant's Wrath

The Sun from its tent

Walking past the earth
Stepping hard, on the Giant’s Tent.

Its' rays shouting so loud
That only hearts could hear
Helter-Skelter, The moon in its premise there…
The Giant lay bare

Yet the giants stares.
Running, walking they both did
Caring less that He is bare
While weak or sturdy, yet their cheer heed,
His naked body staring at them.

Like Stage Dancers
He muses his naked Offsprings.
When the Sun slumber
Then the Moon spreads her wings;
He stays there, awaken ever
Horrible, yet amiable, he never wanders.

Waving at the sky’s Order
Yet seated on Mother Earth
Like a Sky-Scraper, Without Pillars
Its surroundings, left with fetish dirt
By ‘Homo Sapiens’ who feel so bothered
In life’s woes and lows, still in his tent
Chanting, ranting in a uniform order…

 Sacrifice, sacrilege all to appease the Giant
“OLUWERE” ‘they call out’, Defiant
Of all odds, gives and takes after the chants,
Rants, sighs, for a fortunate Path
To be threaded on, to kill off looming wrath.
Blood, surge, cries incomprehensible plight.
Belated, Serrated, the nemesis from the Giant bites.
What a world of blind insights…

 Oath in Covenant!
Make they, without care
seemingly Poisonous ‘ potent
Iroko's anger, magnificent
Even  in pains and Shame.
Like flames of fire
and floods in Mire
..Pay back time, like ‘Wired’

Anger from “OLUWERE”s ‘ fire

To
before warn
the arm comes
Listen, Covenant Not!  Soar
High for the Creator blesses
The patient ones so abundantly.
Abandon the gods for the real GOD.
Otherwise you end up in biting and with
Gnashing, as though there was never an helping hand
To save the dieing soul from any form of wrath.

Written&Edited by: Bankole Kolawole copyright(2011)

Of Peaceful Times...

..a country of a Nobel laureate for literature, yet a land of resurgent illiteracy
 - Prof. Niyi Osundare

Death toll in our land

Snatching the young and old
Infrastructures on progressive decay.

Oh! how dreams dissolve to dewdrops
As Boko spits from the hill top
Beyond the destiny of fleshly yearnings

Lured to the bed of wonder
Unfolding the sleeves of wicked religious diva
…Too many waters have passed under the bridge

The fields are painted in red grasses like crimson
As Boko, like chickens strike our innocence with hurting riddles,
Gory memories that saddens the heart….

The days are drunk with fear-vine
Intoxicating our bleeding hearts
Crumbling legs, of a time of sinking sand…

Chants of redemption, peruse his leaking cavity
And he trades our sanity for stupendous calamity
Powdering our hands in reading time-bomb!

Wrapped in hides of despair
He offers a share of kind wickedness
Inferring a G(g)od he never knew

Whence the storm of death caress our feeble toes
Where is the rest of the stories untold?
As we trample on ailing foes..

Every second seem to devour radiant dreams
Of they, that in the hands, conceive
Into thin air, like kids’ kite play.

Rinsing her cloaks with ugly tears
Doping our lads in mammoth hell’s smell
Time filled with clattering flames

A smoke without a fire?

The misery irking our hearts

In that bush, the clanging Bell of ‘Sambisa’.

Where is this wrecking to?
Why is Justice kidnapped erroneously?
Pushed, painted, plastered and battered with emotional grenades
Back, front, left and right, despite in sight

And when tranquility triumph
And ‘ninety-one’ souls beam in chuckles
For ever, for worse, do we wait or wail

…of peaceful times…

Written by: Bankole Kolawole

LETHAL PAINS (PART 2)

http://facebook.com/linesNlyrics

In the belly of struggle,

Integrity is thing of the humble

Compromise runs through heart's hurdle

With little or nothing to rekindle

Hustle is the order of the day,

Be it legal, illegal, doesn’t matter the way

So far it pays

And puts Boss the happy way

The street is cold

The city now bold and its hold

Intriguingly feasting on several working souls,

Even under the Sun's scorching scold.

When it rains, it pours.

Young lives have their visions blurred.

Souls wasted to counted scores

Resulting from Foes' counter of scars’ score in retaliation galore.

 

Mother growl in anger of distance

When pain unbearably pounce
Holding firm with memory thorns

As it imprints  wounds deeply, on her heart burnt!

Mates grow cold

Ready to confront the Odds

Against the saying "Revenge is best served cold"

Frat' war is about to unfold.

Smiting, with the prowess of Powder

Sniffing the nostrils, for the crave of Power

To attain the impossible.

Maim, kill, spill, blood, yet with chuckles.

What a Bush of ills!

A center of shaky gravity

To arrive a "revered" status.

For an unprecedented nucleus?

Sins in filthy scenes

Spills of Reddish substances 

As they, in turn sip the calabash-ic liquid

Gbosa! They share the spoils in minutes.

And when gravity parboils

The center goes sour

The mad jargon they spake in turns

Swimming down their loins...

The out-casted fallen one with horn

Has successfully, to the youth, done

Convince, confuse, confiscate their consciousness, dead to the core,

Caging their hearts with his lures.

In his lures, victims bled.

Engrossed in the passions of Lust, their love fled.

Their Souls shed tears of life held.

They've lost their way to divine Shed

Ah! Lad turned Lass, Lass to Lad

She, she, He-he, what's good now turned bad

The sun has grown cold; the moon now bald

The world has grown sad.

Ghandi's eye for eye

Will only make the world go blind;

Is not believed by some. Revenge, missiles,

Violence, only makes the world go round.

'Getting high only makes you see clearer

Being a mob will not get you robbed,

Initiated into a fraternal brotherhood is even better'

Are inspirations from the fallen ones with horn

It was said, it has been prophesied

It was heard, recorded in the Holy Book.

We've read, the thought had us terrified

But yet, in his lures, Men are still getting hooked.

Ears are blind, Eyes are deaf,

Confusion deep root-solid in our planet Earth

Man has self destruct

We need a divine saviour that will come, re-construct.

The land pregnant with destructive sorrow

Raped by the out-casted fallen with horn and foes.

Is in labour and will born soon of tomorrow.

Divine Saviour, come! come rescue us from this  Soon of tomorrow.

Come, be our shield and fortress

When this tribulation is finally born to oppress

Oh, Divine Saviour take us to your rest

When your trumpet sounds and souls are ushered to your nest.

END

Written by: Bankole Kolawole

Edited by: Bamgbade Adetoyese

NB: For clearer understanding of this, go back to part 1 by clicking this link: http://linesandlyrics.blogspot.com/2012/12/lethal-painspart-1.html