A BLISSFUL FAIR TO ALL MEN.

Another year as fresh as a leave, shoots,

Another year as pure as an infant with amoral conscience is born,

A blessed year born for us men is now here,

Let us all nurture it so dearly,

For we all can enjoy its newness.

With priestly inks and prophetic lips

I wish us all, good princes of our new king,

A blessed fair and victorious sail on this new sea,

Despite the intrigues of our adversary the beast,

The king whose birth we celebrated will give us the scepter of triumph.

WHO CALLS?

A gentle but imperative word called onto me,

So subtle but instructive is it, that I can’t resist,

Yet, my fleshy whims protests, my human frailty weakens,

That in reluctance, I gave deaf ears to this voice that beckons.

All through the day, I became bothered with trouble,

That all that echoes in my head is this incessant voice calling,

I did all I could to obstruct its persistence with various headsets,

Yet, these devices couldn’t block my heart from this call that pleads.

I got to the holy land to observe my religious rites,

I paid respect to all our elders and humbled before my dibia,

To my greatest surprise, his face shun like a rising sun,

Then, he gave a pastoral sign telling me to listen to the sky.

I ran to the shrine, racing for solace,

At my arrival at it entrance, I was halted by a sign,

I saw sexual acts been spread as a sheet before my trance eyes,

I yelled and screamed; tears streamed my eyes like a troubling river.

What a great awe, I felt a motion across my paths,

My head swell, my limbs shivered, I couldn’t understand,

I knelt on the ground because I became blank,

Then I heard again my beckoning sound

That chased me from the city brothel.

Then, I got a fire straight into my larynx,

I began to prophesy in a way I didn’t understand.

I fell prostrate at a blazing flame I couldn’t find sight in,

Then it spoke to me with parlances I found so hard to understand.       

 SHALL WE LINGER IN FOLDED ARMS?

On this ancient soil were various societies formed,

Formed societies that became reformed by communal ethics,

Communal ethics that formed the basis of our village laws,

Village laws that have brought us thus far, leading us a right.

At the pioneer of white ideas, our racial hue was sidelined,

We accepted these white norms, succumbed to western cultures,

We neglected our rituals and embraced theirs to survive,

Now we enjoy the bliss of being Christ like,

Though his genesis was commercialized.

At first, ignoramus we were of his importance,

All knew we of him was him a better God than our ancestors,

Who delights neither in sacrifices nor blood offerings,

That made us oblivious of our rights as heirs of his palace.

Which we became entitled to, at the incarnation.

Now, profane dealings eat deep into our religious fabrics,

Torments and sufferings now take a passionate partnership,

Into the world’s businesses and it dwellers,

Yet we sit with folded arms placing our palms on weary cheeks.

What a slight on our spiritual efficacy crowned on us by the king,

I crave you great citizens of heaven that relish this piece,

As rescued slaves from the captive of idolatry and sin,

We have been enthroned on imperative thrones to make decrees,

Let’s in hymns of intercession sing to the sky deliverance

From

This Egyptian land on whose soil our officials have settled us. 

HE KICKS OFF.

Now that he has been born,

Now that all his ritual requirements have been done,

Now that his parental breeding are now over,

He becomes ripe for the world,

His ministry in no time kicks off.

His forerunner laid in captive; hidden in a penitentiary,

He laid in dark walls; endures the cruel royalty,

Until his head was relieved off his neck,

And a royal blood with split; a prophetic tongue was silenced.

But while this royal son abdicates at the law of this natural course,

While his pastoral themes were put to a test of silence,

The Lamb of God brought with himself unconquerable feats,

That endured with him till the tamat of his ministry.

He needed prolific hands with willing hearts,

Yet he found a few

Committed

Though one had hidden agenda,

Still, he didn’t prevent his fate

That was to be with this fellow’s betrayer.

                                  - Babajide Michael Oluwasegun