Aug 012011
O Hail the King
That lies along the ring Beside the bank of Niger Mauling fishes like an Ocean scavenger Lo, he knoweth not That if a man wants rot Before fall cometh pride Pride; when on a high horse we ride Aye, the fishes are with the voice of men Crying & Wailing like a Babylonian convict on his way to the den And our king felt it fun Hence, the mauling goes on But his hands killeth men Our king knoweth not then No aide would talk Dare one, on his body shall it feed on; Hawk Behold, the lord of war won't stop He kindle the furnace of hell with their fleshes But the men can take it no more Now, an alternative they seek Enough of yawning and folding of arms The sickle is coming to their heads This, they can't take They seek the weakness in the king's prowess The Apple of an alien prostitute A bite is enough to kill a wild bear But our king ate much in the company of a beer
Abacha!!!!!!
Well said. I like.
i really like this poem. it’s short. it’s intense…very deep and insightful.
i loved the backward way you wrote this
i REALLY love this
kudos
check
He kindle(s) the furnace
Thanks Ada, always helpful in fishing out those seemingly harmless tut tut, i really appreciate, shoulda been kindles. Much Love
Yup! God definitely (dont) like ugly!
Men and seductive apples! Hmmn!
Hehehe…I dey tell U. From Adam like dis!!!
Nice stuff.
“D Sickle re comin to….” ,i lik dat.