THE PRIEST OF REBELLION

You were the chosen one,
Enthroned by the almighty, and ordained by the divine,
You were the hope of the people, one who shall their ignorance dissolve, and their darkness drown,
You were the beacon of truth and the pitcher that held the golden vine,

You were vested with power from on high,
An epitome of righteousness, you spoke the truth, without compromise,
Your orders and instructions were from a place beyond the sky,
You emphasized the unity of the spirit, kept the faith, and the people's heart revolutionized,

But with the winds of challenges and the pressures of the world,
You compromised your integrity, twisted the truth, and broke the vow,
You gave up the covenant, and rebelled against the word,
You delved into the pleasures of this world, and for the riches of the flesh, before the devil, took a bow,
And emerged, a priest of rebellion,

Now, you have become an agent of darkness,
Emphasizing carnality, accepting sinfulness, and spreading the devil's deception,
You have united with Lucifer, and into people's hearts and minds, infused bleakness,
You have desserted your calling, ignored the father's warning, and yielded to corruption,
You have become the priest of rebellion,

Let me ask you, is this really worth it,
Deceiving the people for your own selfish gain,
Don't you know you are soon going to regret it,
There lies a place for you in the pit of weeping and pain,
Except you turn around, return to the father who is ready to forgive you and restore you,
And cease from being a priest of rebellion.
There is forgiveness if you consider forsaking your ways!

TALKING DRUMS

In their changing pitch is the tonality of the people's language,
Within their chambers is the rhythm of the gods,
They pacify the phantom of our ancestors,
And keep alive, the tranditions and cultures of the people,

The folk dance without them, are incomplete,
In the feet of the maiden dancers, the right steps, their regular beats enshrine, and their waists rhythmically sway,
The transitional sounds which emerge from the manipulations of their strings resound in the land of the spirits, communicating salutation, and in the hearts of the people, drowning their sorrows,
And into the minds of the young, their melody sings knowledge, and in the grey hair of the aged, creates a receptacle of wisdom,

Their throbbing, into the arms of the warrior seep courage, and their feet make bravery-clad,
Their folk, the people unite, and the songs of their feuds into insignificance fade,
The winds of calamity, their response with each strike, avert,
And far from the communal borders, evil powers, their loud lyrical notes ward off, creating an atmosphere of tranquility.

N/B: The talking drums are a unique type of drums of African-origin. They play an important role in the culture of the African people, especially those in the Western parts of Nigeria.

THE ROAD

Creeping along, I saw people with whom I couldn't communicate or relate,
I witnessed situations I couldn't fathom, and circumstances that lay beyond my control,
And things, ate I, which with bitterness and sometimes tastelessness, pierced my tender tongue, and roughness against my teeth grind,

Walking on, with ruggedness its nature supported the soles of my feet, and my steps shape, revealing my inner dispositions,
Struggling through, at my face, challenges its winds hurled, and into my eyes, sand blew,
And striving down, mirages I saw, which in my presence disappeared, and the flight of invisibility took, as I drew closer,

And beneath its surface,
My motionless members lay,
Sealed in earth,
Journeying through this latter realm, my mortality I couldn't feel,
And following a transitory meeting, in which before a supreme spirit, I stood,
My soul transcended to the great beyond.

BE CAREFUL!

Be careful of the pleasures of femininity,
For it may lead to an unwanted pregnancy and paternity,
Of love, especially if it is not from above,
Of infatuation be careful, for it is synonymous with deception,

Be careful of power,
For it can destroy your life's tower,
Of how you arrive your destination,
That it be not a matter of public investigation,

Be careful of women,
Because some of them are deceitful and mean,
And of men because some of them are like dogs, and some like pigs,  are never clean,
Be careful of the friend who is always seeking the welfare of your wife,
That he penetrates not her sacred region, and taste of the treasure of your life,

Be careful of the tenderness of your concubine,
For it may turn out to be the quills of a porcupine,
Putting your life in a devastating situation,
Be careful of the priest's daughter,
For her waist may send you down the gutter,
Let the young maiden be careful of her virginity,
That she looses not her purity,
Let the groom hold tenaciously to his bride, else his best man snatches his pride,

Let the woman of the house be careful of the cook,
Lest she be written of the bed-book,
Of the husband who always defends the prettiest-maid,
That his manhood becomes not maid-made.

THE CROSSROAD

To the crossroads, we have come,
Where destinies are decided,
Stories changed,
And decisions made,
A point it is, where leaders are made,
Great men born,
And heroes emerge,

At this point it is, where the rich are separated from the poor,
Where success is differentiated from failure,
And immiscible, victors become with victims,

At this stage it is, that character is tested,
Strength shown,
Bravery determined,
And courage illuminated,

At the crossroads,
Weaklings are severed from warriors,
Servant from kings,
Leaders from the led,
And novices from gurus,

Around its axis,
Light outshines darkness,
Enemies, sunlight and rainfall become,
And apart, night and day are set.

THE BREAK OF DAWN

At cock crow it begins,
With sunrise, each morning, it starts up,
And the beginning of a new day, it marks,

The sorrows of yesterday, it drowns,
The travails of the past it washes off,
And the problems of yesterday it erases,

Into our world, the light of hope it beams,
Our hearts with rays of joy, it floods,
And the traces of misery, it shines out,

Down we may have been,
But the break of dawn, it is,
To try again, an opportunity it presents us with,
That we may defeat-borne pains jettison,
The waters of victory drink,
And the music of triumph dance to

MATURITY

In the advancement of age it lies not,
In the proliferation of grey hair, it is not evidenced,
But in the development of the mind, it is magnified,
And in the consciousness of thoughts it is depicted,

By the achievement of much wealth it is not measured,
But by the management of such of wealth,
Upon the reproduction of bodily cells it is not stabilized,
But upon the maturation of mental cells,

Upon the development of the heart, and the seasoning of well-chosen words in time, it is anchored,
In the understanding and resolution of complex issues, and those of the heart, it is hinged,
It is not in the yielding to the swaying of a tantalizing waist,
But in the overcoming of its beckoning,
It percolates the borders of physical physique, and transcends the confines of mere growth,
Deep within the enrichment of the soul and mind, it is rooted.