May 22, 2018

THE SACRILEGIOUS TONGUE OF A MISCHIEVIOUS CHILD


 
 O , Passion is the humor , our sense of virtue
 O , Passion is the saviour , a blessing and a curse
 From the frenzy of the wielder to the gavel ,it unctions its cubicle
 Let it not be driven from your home –a solace and a summerhouse
 Without with , man shall not live and rest  .

Let it not culture thee ;for out of its barrow proceeded wrath .
And so shall not become an addiction to gavel affliction.
Unleash sound judgment and so shall it become the blessing ofImage result for pictures of ANGRY YOUTHSImage result for pictures of ANGRY YOUTHS
Many generations
Courted by kings and queens , celebrities and luminaries
When thou had cultured it .
For the sage had said : for out of it are the issues of life with  antecedence encrusted in gold of mother nature.

From the frenzy of the wielder to this cubicle , two world must meet .
With the leverage of this unction ,  two vices and two graces must emerge at once to shape the destiny  and the oracle of man.
There , a third world would be born as we live thrice in a single world .
For every man shall be touched by parentage and his neighbor to live the life of himself .
As a vice and a grace possibly hibernates to muster natural forces of life forever.

Beholden the grace that nature gives to sustain the cannonade glorifies this cubicle and the gavel
It is an all time axiom that we undress this passion at the cubicle to strike the anvil at the gavel  …………………………………………………………contd.








          THE GOLDEN MARBLE OF MY FATHER
This passion sways me from the gulf
I  do not know exactly what it is.
The dreams against the gods
The dreams of my head alarms me
Its genre and genome no one ever experienced

To a rational mind , my views on everything
Are candidly obscene to battle manifold.
When they moved to west ,  had I not moved to the east ?
Alas, a friend had cautioned : neither did you move either ,
To the north , south , west nor to the east but rather hell bent
To the desert with no oasis.
Wherein no one lives, what a weird world  it is !

This I giggled sarcastically not to the jungle but to the desert of  the
aliens and the gods .
I do not agree with a wordly man and divine views –the ranting of an ant .
Moreso , as I am no wordly man nor heavenly man –an uncouth margin of
grey matter .
Everybody lives alone and everybody dies alone and no one lives by himself.
A cannon and the anvil shapes the foundation of mortal destiny and only with the
Unction of the gaiety at the gavel does it live.

Dreams against the gods control fate and the battle against fate and eternity occupies
this tenacity ,
Itching from the jungle of mortal thoughts to the benumb and growl of the gods and forces yet unseen.
To the benumb and bamboozle of mortal arts I began this journey ,that no one had lived to travel before me .
See , the gods had enthused  ,  no one had traveled it before .
If an art had done so would probably be because of my influence .

I lived before my time , had lived before every one and the thinking that even the gods
Desired to beat .
That every one for lucre , lucre for every one domiciled paradise at the cannon of the anvil.
Here comes the cannon  , we shall never tire as I live alone , I die alone , I resurrects alone and forever live alone .
The ants[people] and the mega-ants [celebrities] only may follow in the cubicle wherein we cloth this passion.
For he maketh not a passion , he maketh not a day ; for he maketh not a passion maketh not a sun and the sun forever departs .

O cemetery ,waileth not again ,that I may wail in vain and waileth not ye again
O passion cloth me not at the cubicle that I may undress into the filth of mortal
Grave
Wherein golden dreams for all time are buried in the sacrilege of the gods .
O sacrilegious tongue  , the mortals detest thee at the behest of the dreams of the gods
And dreams against the gods they lived to worship .
I forever live alone ;for those who live alone are the moulders of world destiny.

Grant me reprieve , tell the wits ,grant me reprieve and tell the sun about me
That he may hear in the desert of no oasis wherein I lives .
From the gullible of shrewdness , a bloke saw me afar and fled from the echo and reecho
Of voice power
In a trance came the forewarn : Never see him face to face , never see him alive .
Let not sensation thrills ye to him where detest arises to make the venture a life time regret and  a windy sails.
The heart is seen not in words not really in action but the voyeur of inside man that protrudes action day billings.

‘I rebuke thee o trance’ as soon as I alighted and grouched.
And heypresto , to the muster and the monster and indeed was a windy sails .
O that presence speaks marvels and the thoughts alarm me
Like an alien I lived in the nativity , waltzing in the patriarchal heritage that dawns
 on me .
To the ensconce and succor of inward man that enlivens the day .
The life of my father was fallen on golden marble :of humble beginning , of resplendent miscarriage and humble ends .

A colossus crude not a colossus cult , of the crude of golden times betrayed and the ally
Of this valley that I trod .
This golden marble becomes the golden dreams , dreams against the gods , dreams of the night .
And even patriarch had admitted it is the worldly making of the providence.
Did I believe it now ?
Behold here , we moved from the cult of colossus crude to the cult of  river Thames on fire .
There we published golden items on golden marble and golden dreams sought to be etched on golden antecedence.

This marble published many items from sober tubers  to the loftier of censure .
On the sand of time , were planted for the beneficiary of a later golden antecedence .
To mould and remould the matrix of a rising meteor .
A meteor to protrude the galaxies of the gods and the aliens ,to reshape the fate of man from the wealth of the deep.
O thou censure of the golden marble , grant me reprieve to cloth passion at the cubicle
Wherein no one knows .

O mother nature- thou motherfuccker , vapour him not much  and favour him not much !
Down to the consternation of his art for the common wealth of  humanity .
Royal words fell on golden marble reshaped destiny .
In the sojourn and journey of the gulf ,we have come this far and knoweth not where we are headed .
Antecedence that fell on golden marble had a glorious ends ;for it is maneuvered in the censure of the loftier.

And lo , the visions that come every night baffle arts beyond stupor and chagrin of man
To the stampede of little abode
This golden marble had been the savior of the values yet unforeseen
AND the golden antecedence much foreseen
To preserve the beauty of the meteor ,of decorum , in the great match towards the unknown .
The golden marble of my father fallen on the golden marble of posterity .

There I stand to remould  the failing meteor in the direction of human security  and universal prosperity .
I  see many lands before me –the land of the unknown .
That no one travels that none sojourns .
Virgin and desolate , horrible to the mortals and sedate to uncommon lores.
No means of transport to alien far land where the meteor is to transit humanity into the land of the alien .
And merging of the races would produce new evolution and new design .
And the Darwinists and the creationists could be one .

One to justify their belief as two faces of a single coin ,and the herald
Of Darwinist golden big bang .
To put an end to the ethos of the social Darwinists that polarizes the world
Root to global crisis  and wars indulged by capitalists  from the remorse of no one to the remorse of all .
Let not the schools be complicated further from the jungle of arts to the golden age of arts .There shall all men be made whole .
Marvels everywhere that even heavens in their beauty never known before .
And the simple life forms that evolved and designed ontology  probably never knew
before .


Put up your dukes and fight ;only the bold and the daredevil
Not the mighty follows this path  .
Take the duke and throw not away the gauntlet as gavel rolls in the public square.
Pearls are many and gems are many and nickels can be everywhere but no one knows
 the foundry .
No one dares to follow unless the kingly encomium and epicure is attached .
Hare-gull lives in hare-hell and ;knowing not that they run the hare  to hunt the hounds .


Harlot of dreams in diverse dunghill indulges in harlequinade thrown in the jungle to betray golden marble .
It is etched on golden letters of history and they that husk and husk until Harry harry no more .
No man can rise above his destiny and the fertile soil of dream is survival .
They come in the gore and go in the whore .



                        STRIKE THE ANVIL
In the great words of Abraham Maslow :if you have the hammer you tend to see every problem as a nail.
This I do not have either but I do have the fists like everyone else .
That I cold trigger with sheer guts  every resolve under sun .
It is by the hammer and the anvil and the periphery that man shall live .

That an arts could undergo refinery  to face the hurdle of problem solving .
Those who think well go beyond the nail and the hammer  to strike the barn door
As the strike the anvil.
The ayes and the nays may have it when it thus matter and looses when it does resist.
That every problem is the anvil  and every solution is the hammer.
O strike the anvil ,o strike the anvil .


………………contd.





                                PASSION FOR FREEDOM
We are watchers on the great walls of great freedom
Engraved in the hallowed walls of great history .
Antecedence  favors the bold and not the mighty.
And the bold as the mighty from flighty reshaped the destiny and the great
Annals of history .

We believed not  what we were yesterday and not what we were today nor
 tomorrow
But the quality of golden antecedence that we desire
And thence posterity shall be of great value
It is this freedom not yet observed that liberates all man .


ON the great hallowed walls of world freedom we live .
We live not as the bohemian and the mavericks really
But savors the glorious days ahead for the tranquility of man
As the epicenter of affordable social life .
In battlefield we live yet we knoweth it not and there we die to battle in
The dark.










We cannot be relied upon only believe today alone
For it is not certain even though we live it with gusto and ill-rapture
 of sensation .
Nor can we learn from today , it is quite not justified without the observer’s
 lurk  and instinct reflexes  on the past
For that which we know held us bound  and that we know not a far greater danger .



We are men on the wall of great freedom but not fighters enough for the change
 To happen ,
The change that we seek and not  the change we desire .
That we cannot observe the observe of the golden past and we cannot make the change happen
Unless we pass and travel through the pages and ages of history .
We shall be defeated on this walls unless we observe the golden past .
Those who spread the gospel of freedom travel this journey that dark ages have forever
Deemed uncouth.
In Kennedy’s great words , watchers on the walls of great freedom .


Freedom is a fugitive in a world today and everywhere it is a fugitive far driven from home .
Aloof in the desert and uncouth  in the grave like the gipsy wanders everywhere without a home .
That who travels these  pages --a meager few  were  hounded into sepulcher and have come  to become moulders of human destiny if survived.
The gospel of freedom  is censured everywhere and very seething  far ahead of their generation .
 A remnant miniature detest competition and the quality of their foresight had come to
Be interrogated
Freedom today is a slavery and a competition slavish world means man everywhere is in chains .


The world is not freed even though we claim we are freed .
The world is not freed even though some claim they are freed
The world is not freed including the task masters who have mortgaged the
 price of freedom
Where is the true passion for freedom ?where is the true passion for living ?
…………..contd.
Passion for freedom delivers passion for living ,that which elevates universal human freedom .
We cannot be seen to despair and the passion that delivers not abused
The world is lacking in freedom but claims to be its advocate.
An alien in the jungle , in the forest and alien everywhere .   Where is the fate of man?


Those who fail to clothe him cried the most ,when the twin brothers ravaged their fortune
This twin bang controls the destiny of man –that we shall be freed today and be slave tomorrow to our neighbor .
That we shall be slave today and be freed tomorrow from the pawn of aggressors .
Dovetails in to the rise and fall of great history.



When the golden twin appear in the city to campaign in the public square
The prudent carefully courted to the slain of dunderhead and dumbbell.
No one can alter damage done to prodigal son with no shrewdness.
No one can recognize them with same facial appearance even more than  identical twins
Could have .
Had humiliated insensitive from time immemorial .


When we beseech thee O umpire light is dawned on us .
And this light shall be way maker for the observer to court freedom not his brother.
They go to the umpire only a handful of races and tongues.
Serfdom carved this semblance froth beyond human ability to discern .
Carefree ,highly mobile friendly and not self demanding but opportunity takers
The glory power of attorney resides with the umpire  whose  colours of rainbow
The wind had failed to indicate 



He reflects and exudes their image and market their effect as distributed in the golden pages of history .
……………………….contd.












                    THE  GOLDEN DREAMS  OF THE WORLD FIRST CITIZEN.
               I am the song of a new nation 
B           I am the song of a new generation
              I am the song that many live to sing .
              I am the battle that many desire to fight
              I am the battle of a new era and the consensus of a golden generation
  



I           I am the beginning of history and the end of history
             I  am the beginning of the ages and the end of the ages
            I am the voice of the voiceless and the song of the song less .
            That I am the voice of a new generation is the reason why we live
            In this rapture , I have found myself hung in between choices greater than I
             Living other peoples dreams that empathy bestows on mercy cloth  .


 How do I intend to repair the bridges that are fallen apart ,
 Roads that were never built , and rail that no train crosses
 coaches that hardly exist

THE RAPE OF AJILETE


The Rape Of Ajilete
Ogbomosho Ajilete ,the ‘odium’ of Yorubaland, my humble
Abode ,
Still snapped and slouched in a swamp of unmerited and
unsound  smoking gun,
Haply that osmosis and nomenclature with the sloven sludge
 of paroxysm,grandiose sticks,
From the besieged conceit of Yoruboid enclave,north and
 South annexed for  itself,
As the lord protector of Yorubaland , borne its feathers ,with
keen appetite,
As garrison of rudderless wings,which in stout stratifies lay, straining
At the leash,
Stonecold,to sword dance straight-fight,with girth,hung as they
Swoon upon its swivel.
 Image result for pictures of OGBOMOSHO IN OYO STATEImage result for pictures of OGBOMOSHO IN OYO STATE
 the famous tortoise in king's palace in Ogbomosho


Haply that swoon,shylocked upon its poltrooned realm of infantrymen,
That bordered its plateau,Image result for pictures of OGBOMOSHO IN OYO STATE

Rose in derision,crouched upon its rudderless feathers ,pale and frosty,
Did they plough,
With keen appetite and salivating mensrea,when vendetta uncouthly
Did not fray to gallivant,
Gorged with miseriest morsel of the earth ,to waggle trench-warfare,
Clear and crystal,verdured by vermins,of the invidious invaders,
From the north country,
Which in that sky  of vociferous Samurai and wasteland  of braggart
-wastrels ,
Where scraggly stars as glorious as Ibadan’s heavenly dew  of warlike
Stormy cloud.



With pure crimson pale , Salaam genuflects  triumphant battlement ,
For goonish obloquy,
And so,tomfooleries,hung in saturnalia,of its sloven realm,fled
 With invidious  invaders,
O ,behold,Ajilete ‘s Samurai,lord protector of the realm,blazes
 like a colosus,
Oh,amidst a medley of harrowing distress,what guerdon have they
been inured,
If triumphant as the old sleigh bells elud’d them as soon as froth
debilitated  as vanquished,
As is the apogee and glorious morning melt away,as geld as the
 Mortification of her resistant rudders,
A voluminous brickwall avalanche,to the ireful supplanted,danced
Its samba.



Oh to the poltrooned realm ,this gangrene,sore deeply ,frangible
Grenade,from its rampaging sport,
That gallantry ,so gracious itself,doth gradient of its sinew,rollicks
Its gladiators,
Perchance,the rapine of the North Country,a rancorous ebulliency
 Untainted,
Mangled its maniac depressive realm,Ajilete’s rampaging Sport,as
Stiff as ramrod,
For the treacly of their  sullen feet,rudderless wings,oft tarnished
 be;
Perchance ,that derision of Ajilete’s swashbuckling,sweet above
 compare ,
Clogs the wheel of the realm,pouncing above troubled waters
and its plangent earth.







Disdainfully ,it did sting,as picadors of vainglorious physical jerks,
Haunting and picketing the picaresques of the realm,frequent’d
Yoruboid plateau,
Robed with mean spirited gaunt,meaner and meanest,as they
Prettily vaunt,
With swift intent and bickering coy , soiled with blutcheon
And gone awry,
But some hobbling thoughts,did incite its peck of trouble,wonked
By pederasts of brotherly mores,
Lampooning pedagogues of the realm,wobbling feet  dazed by ignoble
 Arms,
Keeping one ‘s pecker up,marooned in their pecker of  pecking order.






Her blustering fort,all too timeless a revolutionary,if none of those ,gins
them to peek.








Her indefatigable Samurai,numero uno,her objective ridicule,of the
Realm’s nonchalance,
Swahbuckling but they with, scorned obsession,cajoled rancor ,to
Fondle,
Sweet Ajilete,a raccoon of the birds of the golden morn with sweet
 roses beyond compare ,
From candid morn to candid dusk,prettily and prettily entreats its charm,
And lay fledglings in jolt,
Her grating grill burns with bashful shame, and grailed them,with scornful
 Rhetorics,
To flay rather than flaunt the flatulence of their indigo dye of sentiment,
And thy heroics canst they not vouch,nor thy ethnology,deemed as fugitive,
A quirky species of Yoruboid heirloom.








When heroism, swears and nests a home in her soil-that she like her queen
consort,
As frontiersmen, a pastime becomes,o history cannot disprove her soothing
 Bosom,
And age by age , manicured by age upon age ,age above,and age beneath age,
Spent in the defense of the realm,that they in reprisal ,swore to tarnish the
Rocketing of golden forays,
With which ,it should be re- written ,with the golden pen ,nursed on the golden
Sands of time,
Therefore,I lie not with dissent,but with plain gospel,drizzling
From the oats of its adorable bard,
So,gracois an history and historicism,lay kimbo,its kith and kin
Of knight marshalls and knight errants.







Since that foible,our defence of the realm,and skirted in the hallowed
 chambers of love,
Thus was intensely smooched ,hector-agregate of the picadors and street
Vermins,
My better angel, is justice,a man of the gospel,shall preach the gospel,
Heavensward,
Tis heavenly heartfelt,returns ,the gospel of the hooligans,coaxes not perfidy
To coagulate,
This vapour ,this breath of a vapour,vouched to dissuade and dislodge ,
That this unfair roses ,supplanted upon fair sun,might on this fussy
earth ,unfolds,
So,with this vouch and vow,maketh I  condescend,broke byhungry
Passion.




What graffiti is not hewn so much out of gospel,not gelding  verity
On its pikestaff,
To break  salaam in the realm,to win a hell,in place of a paradise,
A molass that cheaply sticks,
Sweet Ajilete,a sedentary cosmopolitan of the first class extraction,
So gracious as heroism and sanctimony,from whosecringing  gourd
and garrison,
Infantrymen of the realm,gourmands and hibernates in winters,from
Oyo-ile,South of River Niger,
Lovely,amiable,amicable,pious  and warlike but  brazenly diabolical ,
Did flock,the virgin pleateau,with their tireless hunting expedition.




Such hunting,flexing and flocking under the Ajagbon tree,as petty  as
 Glorious as it could look,
Like a comic relief,wimbled on a plateau of the unearthly,weetless
To welter,
Eerily speaks of astute stratagem , for reconnoitering and reconnaissance  ,
Ogunlola, inoffensive but a belligerent hunter, apprised them folktales ,
Merriment,
Being accommodative,under Ajagbon tree,and they in return,showers
 Him,
With mega-tons of chastity,immense love and favours,to win him
 genealogy of monarchy,
His hood corronated on a plumpy virgin soil,and the earth rejoices and
 the realm salvaged.







In the hallowed unripe age of the kingship evolutionary and chivalry,
Boldness,bade not refrain,touches him profoundly and still,unbesieged
By his intransigency,
Did allure him freedom,from his self inflicted  incarceration by the Alaafin,
O what a chastity of Oyo-ile, rampaging from North country ,where rapine
Raped this realm,
From the banditry of Elemosho,the precarious  warlord,or his heroism ,
That was a  stint in afterwards of a sworn oath,to the monarchy ,to kick
Elemosho’s daisy,
And gauntlet ,he did receive to stampede with the gauntlet,upon sworn
Oath,to draw his sublime archery.






Obnoxious as it sounds ,the tender grip but rugged nibbler ,
Banished from manacle and gaol,swore to battlement of the
Maurading fuglemen,
Still avail him away from sarcasm  and coy- jest ,that waylaid him
Every step;
And then his gait touches the bait stuck his chin and struck his archery,
And lo, Elemosho, the treacherous  marauder,struck down from the
 tree,
His hiding place,and fell flat on his back ,decapitated by Ogunlola
Himself;
 For a rodeo of rodomontade and merriment  in the palace of the
King, Alaafin.




Hung in this penumbrate penumbra,disgruntled elements ,with poof
 of pointificate ,
wheezing like a grampus as her checkered annals are being in rendition
 dished out,
Clung like  a limpet,disowned inhabitants of virgin soil,as Bariba,an alien
tongue,
This molasses barely spare the monarchy ,whose ranting as well as
meddling ,
As officious goof christened and dubbed  it so-a bariba enclave,to
Its consternation,
If history make sworn ,how shall I swear,differently ,and if history
 make them ,
If history makes them conjecture ,my  roots ,how shall I dispute
greedily .








The immanent misconstrued heroism tossed with  a
mortifying of the  esoteric shamanism ,
A patrimony of the Ajagbon tree philosophy,that hurled into
 sheol,Elemosho’s  chicanery,
And to them and the knuckles of the unsuspecting prodigies,
I lay kimbo,begrudged,upon which my numb is castrated and gashed,
To constantly belabor,institutionalized mischief  with this
 incendiary piece to a standstill,
And being frayed from hoodwink , this gospel,dense ,shall its
Guerdon noteworthy  be;
And derobed from miasma of prejudice ,with which mendacious
chronicles and quirky heroism .







Are laced,with fables and farce in public domain,to depose with no
Empathy ,Ajilete’s sublime feats,
If heroism, be the calibration ,to know,yonder heights by history,
shall suffice;
Not adorned with ricocheted tongue of sarcasm and lampooned ego;
Not embellish the realm,with nescient souls,whose marooned brood,
A living brook canst not illumined,
Remorseless as a vile act of spieteful venom,to snob benigned  wights,
Banished by mythical traction of antecedence and glorious herald ,decked
With malice,
That malignant tumor, that still smeared this realm with its malediction.







Thine feet , thine sullen eyes jolly seeks, not thy state of dreadful remorse,
In the counterespionage ,how bent are they ,to uproot mellifluous cymbals
Of Ajilete’s jingoism,
And its indelible symphony ,sung by history and historicity itself played so much
Free by  its acolytes and aficionados,
Truncheon robed their cheeks and scantily clad ,had such heroism,weaned
 upon motherearth of this realm ,
And scantily clad , had they  been regurgitated,elsewhere in this enclave of
Animosity cliff balls,
When Toyosi Aburu Maku,all asundry on warfront,with his protégés, Aresha,
Onpetu and Olugbon,
Were waging tails at Dahomey Wars,he did with grandiose forays, upturned
  heroism,



For more than a triplet of  decades and percipient history barely knocked
him off, its glorious pen,
And with subtle perch,his trough ,trudged at sea ,over this eaon,escalating
 intent and megalomaniac,
Narcissus,so they lay by its warlike Brook,to wage this sanguinary bloodletting,
That paled into obscurity,omnifarious feats of Yoruboid pantheon of deities,
Are Latosa,Ogun laka Aye,Moremi,OSUN,Oya,Yemoja, a vast swathe,hurdled
In this umbrage,
Oh Aburumaku,did he kick his daisy at the warfront like his ilks of the King’s
 armour bearer-Are Onakakanfos?
His spleen velvety moist hands,elude him this stigma of ridicule that history
speaks guile of they ,not him.







This velvety rapture aplomb seeks,that barely had he returned from
battlefields ,did  he then  the daisy kicked ,
O Nirvana stood he ,in humble bay ,to berth and the fair sun looked
more on he than  them,
Not harmfisted thee,with inglorious eyes,the infamous eyes still
 refutes  tirade,
To abate,oh quoth he , that Prince Tunde Ogbomosho,’’with him ,
I,my custom,my history ,my people, being so much grossly prejudiced.









Unfairness is fairness, ,illicit,a  licit, but not so greatly,a vast swathe
 Blossoming,
To impair sacred fairness,a fickle,and clothe its fickle,frosty as pale,
When as thine misty eyes,hath chosen the fickle as fairness,and stalked
 thine hood,
With prejudice and resentment,shouldst thou not strike a balance,with
Greymatter,
When blots of plainance,flighty,transfused and unequivocal,envelops
 Airwaves?
And when thou comest,to narrate,and thy tales to tell,shouldest thou
 not condescend,consider dissenting voices?
Betwixt them ,looped with unfair lips,kisseth mendacity,with glee,as
Companion.







With that transit vile of unfair lips ,hath they with groove,mated together,
Sore deeply manifold tales,pleading ecstasy ,upon scornful state , its crash
helmet of pleading tongue,
They brimmed ,with falsehood,to undermine this crusade,if prejudice and
Verity, couple be……………………….contd.




                                    NARCISSUS TALES OF OGBOMOSHO AJILETE
This is an epic poem of how Ogbomosho was founded and what contribution,it has made to yorubaland and naija.