I LOVE TO WRITE

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I so much love to write…
This isn’t an insane bite
Don’t ask me why
It’s just my inborn style

On the battlefield, soldiers frown
With musket, police parade the town
Pastors preach

Teachers teach
Jonah likes sleeping
Paul loves preaching
Banana and monkey
The “politrickians” and money

I so much love to write…
This isn’t an insane bite
Don’t ask me why
It’s just my inborn style

Written by: James T. Abel Adesitimi

+2348164887683

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ON THE JUDGMENT DAY

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At hereafter, awaits us a great day!
The doomed day when goats will weep
At hereafter, awaits us a great day!
The blissful day for the sheep
Are you ready for that day?

There, no lawyer to hire
There, no had I known
There, some will earn fire
There, others for golden crowns
Are you ready for that day?

There, sinful eyes will birth streams
There, pure hearts will be freed
There, few for crystal Stream
There, many for gnashing teeth
Are you ready for that day?

There, philosophy has no degree
There, ignorance has no strength
There, poverty has no plea
There, wealth has no mouth
Are you ready for that day?

There, you’ll stand before the throne
There, I too will give an account
There, we shall hear the tone
Welcome home or I know you not?
Are you ready for that day?

Hebrew9v27
written by: James T. Abel Adesitimi

IN THE GALE OF RAPTURE

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The echoes of trumpet call,
Steal the world with surprise
Within and around the globe
Infants swiftly vanish
From their mothers’ back
And all stars are quickly taken
From the company of dark clouds
O madness rules the streets!
Chasing those left behind
To whirl with the gale of dust
For their skeletal secrets
Walk nude to the scene of shame
Women legs twirl, bodies lithe
Gyrating to the song of doom
The fishers of lust, hunt bloods
From the river of their hearts
Their sinful eyes birth tears
Seeking mercy in their deserted churches
When broken glasses can no longer be gathered
Sun and moon give their fame
To the reign of satanic rains
And the world is drenched
Beneath the showers of tribulations
As the world awaits the thunder of its end

written by: James T. Abel Adesitimi

NEVER MOURN AT MY FUNERAL

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Never mourn at my funeral
For I’m not dead but resting
On Abraham’s bosom
Waiting for the call of resurrection
Never mourn at my funeral
You who come in view to mourning
But in you, you’re here to mock
For my poetry exposes your deeds
Do my body what you wish
Please, let it be dismembered
To gratify your ruthless visit
Never mourn at my funeral
You the insect that bites my leafy fame
With your toothless mouth of libel
And you who want my fish
To dive in a dry earth
Throw my carcass into a sea of your lot
Like where brother Jonah fell,
But it will be your endless shame
For I’ve seen beyond the river bank of Joppa
Never mourn at my funeral
You that come in my Maker’s name
Just to bless my end
Go thy way and search for lost souls
In the forest of lust and doom
Wear them a garment of gospel
Before they lie low beside me
And journey hell eternal
Never mourn at my funeral
But mourn for we’re all debtors of death
Written by: James T. Abel Adesitimi

COMMONERS’ FATE

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We are the leaders of the morrow

Dangling as unripened fruits

On our today’s trees of stillness

When our old-today is barren,

How can ‘we’ young tomorrow be born?

We are the leaders of the morrow

Elected by permanent voters’ bullets

To rule the parliament of death

And the national assembly of graves

Who can bring life to our dead dreams?

We are the leaders of the morrow

Minced by the butchers of Sambisa

In the festival of their holy war

Where the tongue of the earth sips deeply

The cold wine, from the breweries of our necks

We are the leaders of the morrow

Married away in the blind noon

With unquestionable and metallic dowries

To become forest wives of human apes

The last sight of our pens and books

We are the leaders of the morrow

Who faced fire and smoked its flame

In the university of spiny assignments

But were later employed as fighting gadgets

In the office of our political potentates

We are the leaders of the morrow

Standing, bending, and kneeling

Lying prostrate and begging the herbalists

Of this our national shrines to allow us

Too, to dine and wine with the gods

The ‘gods’ means the Europeans or the advanced countries.

written by: JAMES T. ABEL ADESITIMI

APOSTLES OF CORRUPTION

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Apostles of corruption are:
The electoral-herbalists!
Of our green-white land
Who steal our cowries of vote
To appease their political gods

Apostles of corruption are:
The newly elected apostles
Who have once preached to us
The gospel of sweetness
But later chameleon to be lies

Apostles of corruption are:
The priests and Imams who bow
Their consciences for coloured-papers
And nurse our national termites
With fasting and thunderous prayers

Apostles of corruption are:
The oiled mouths in parliament
Who read the epistles of foods
While their kinsmen at the root
Are dying of starving everyday

Apostles of corruption are:
Our foolish representatives
In the house of loot
Who speak stony vocabularies
While we hold class beneath trees

Apostles of corruption are:
The federal members
Who forced every student
To study their invented selfishness
In the universities of strike

Apostles of corruption are:
Those mice in black uniforms
And the kleptomaniac body
Who make friends with the rats
And the suckers of our national wealth

Apostles of corruption are:
I and you who refuse to go
Against injustice, lust, fraud,
And all other societal vices
In our respective domains