Skip to main content

GLORY AND THE VIBRANT FOLKS













Strength sets out to manifest itself among the gathering of folks
It looks for space amongst the aged; but found it lacking therein
Searches for some gap among the infant; but the door was yet open to it
But among the vibrant; space was afforded so much that it dwelled amongst them for so long

The Glory of the youth is in their strength; Saith the WORD of LIFE
So they should restrain from the idle mind
Reiterating; whatsoever your hand findeth doing; do it with all thy might
For the grave has nothing to offer; save a stench – filled arena


You could say we’ve got a lot of time
To wine and dine, to play well now; for our times are still prime
Lest you forget; that a stitch in time saves nine
Pull the weight; avoid the weight pulling you

For the vibrant; our future is bright and we must get there
But the devil is braced up to drag many into his own snare
Shun the colourful but dirty, the pursuit after vanity
So your light doesn’t vanish
Within the tapping off two fingers’ flip

Most precious; worth more than choicest diamonds or rubies is our Glory
But the Great ONE needs us to bring same to HIS feet for polishing, securing and building
Be gallant; for the dark dwarf wants to tamper with the glowing nature of your Glory
He tells you there’s nothing wrong in waywardness; it’s a style
He proposes indiscipline to your spines; he says that will be to you; a source of smile
Indecency, slothfulness, immorality to ruin your pending immortality

If we submit to such things,
Where wither will the nations take succor?
For the Glory of all Nation is in the strength of their youth
To make this journey smooth
Cling to the one who formed you
Only the Divine Master knows you
Even the earnest expectation of all creatures
Waiteth for the manifestation of only you
Hold tight vibrant lads; for our GLORY is greater than the glowing Sun







Comments

Popular posts from this blog

MY FATHER

Many framed men Hefty yet without course Many Huge men; many but yet not strong Many Daddies comes handy, yet not really Daddies But you my Father; you are out of this world Of the frame of a house set upon the hill which cannot be hidden A man brimming with daily tenacity Considerable yet wise A custodian of truth not lies Ever seen a structured entity with a structured approach; yeah that’s my Father Relentless as the Eagle strolls the skies for her eaglet in winter and summer Many men may refrain from the cold as a bane; yet in it, you toil, not issuing complain Spent time with you; never really seen your frowning face; still, u didn’t spare the cane Many men there is, yet a Good man is scarce But amongst the few; you aim for the stars @ ½ a century and 1 still bouncing like a boy I am certain you will reap many years in abundant Joy @Bolaji Olaniba (2019)

THE FATE IN OUR HANDS

In the mid 1960s Dinga area, the tension became as steam rising and oozing from boiling water in a kettle, the Just amalgamated newborn in; Dinga was like a baby learning how to walk, however, her case was as one with too many instructors; I could say more than 1 parent dictating the pattern of walk each deem as ideal for the young nation, eventually confusing the tender one. Ali Balrebe was 25 years old son of a Cleric in Northern Dinga, He had just returned from Academic sojourn in the United States of Alerica, after been schooled on Islamic rudiments from the age of 8 years old in Daure town of Northern Dinga, His father: though a staunch Islamic fundamentalist showed a little soft spot for western innovation and ideals secretly allowed his beloved son a trip to the west for academic enlightenment, a much-forbidden act by the Northern dinga society. On course, Ali was a student of Peace and conflict studies at the Howard University of Alerica. He gained insight i...

FOR EVERY SUFFERING; A BILLION MADE

For every blackout; a billion made For every darkness a bullion van Always wondering, why the contentment with our present state Men in a mask – politicos, importers of the noise engine causing us a headache For every dilapidated school; a billion made Invisible hands causing the deepest quakes For every salary not paid; a billion made Authoritarian hands multiplying the masses pain For every collapsed building; a billion made Men who threw the integrity test sheet away Now the walls cracked; not only was the foundation faulty: But some Men failed For every pond on the expressway; a billion made For every pit on our highway; some men got paid So many have somersaulted, but some has gained Oh the hydra-headed monster with tail soiling our fabric with stain How many billion more is worth the pain? How many men are still queued for the gain? Know that such gain throws millions into pain Is our life really for the billions or f...