WIBE'S POET

Guru  How can I develop a strongest awareness of the  unconscious without being overwhelmed by its power? How can I develop a strongest senses of compassion  without falling into trap of sentimentality?  How can I blow a strongest love of this world  without employing into the lowering feathers of the flying birds?  I am the Sun  The rays are my money  A day is my functions  Night is my reflections.  I am not my body  Never my mind.  The end of the broom  Change to rainstorms  For the covers to soak  The land in Nigeria scenes.  The band's of the broom  Are the cloudy sky in holy angels  To unholy gays in the land of blessing.  Tornados uncover the roofs of  Survival of the pretenders in  A form of recamping the hollowland  To the holyland.   @guru deela06082018

Buordilion  Omo olodo ide  In the mist of ingrates  You are greatest  Some says  You are god.  They say my Lord,  With their slanderous  Eyes,  With their backbiting  Mouths.  In the mist of traitors  You are enthroned,  Some says  You are magician  They say my juju  With their soothing  Mouths,  With their yimustyle  Noses.  With their infectious  Heads  They node indeed.  You make them  Countable as coins.  You make them  By calling to serve.  Show them whot  And what to do,  As a citadel of ages.  The one and only  Recent polite tips  In our time.  A river may flow  And glow from a source.  Tributaries may power  Its flow mighty links  You make them  To be counted as coins.  Akanbi never mind  They thought evils  You are never care  They are devils singers.  Opt out of the...

         AYEDERO Whence the kolanut throw Todisplay the peace,  It speaks the words  From the mouth of elders.  The kola tices the shrine Shrine land shrinks  The wine and water. Taste this taste that  At the square of the tale,  Whence the elders eat kolanut  The young one on throne. Once the kolanut broke And throwed in the secred shrines,  A word must be said  As an inspired thoughts of bidding.  In the shrine of peace,  A lot of people sing a song.  The song of the Oracle  Must be mimicked to the market.  In the palace of peace,  The square bear a lot.  Drum beat to the songs of pips.  Dance steps to the trado-trends.  Ayedero of the negro aces,  The pieces of the golden ancestors,  This is a copy of the stories.  Ayedero of the whole races,  Like father like son.  The dust of the precious assets,  Just a star of peace,  See as a membe...