Poetry

SAGE O'FIRE POETRY

FALLEN

O'er do I roam in this mortal body_
To do the things that be comely,
Trying to do live the path that's right_
Never to turn from the right_
Why doeth my soul feel so much anguish,
I feel I can't do no more and I'm finished,
My heart do rise only to set itself a fall_
Like the sun doth rise for only to fall.


Feelings of shackles on neck_
Bonds, hands and feet to the deck_
Dear Holy one, eli eli lama sabach thani,
Or who else would I cry to on my knees,
O'er if you would but strengthen me_
With grace and mercy be,
That I work the path no more_
Only set on the one that goeth not to shoel.

Oh the wretched man that I am_
Was it because of dust I was formed,
Oh my voice speak for my soul's freedom,
Oh my heart cry for your dominion_
For she will have your ass quickly_
And leave you dry, skinny and prickly,
For my soul's strength has waded_
And my energy faded.

She sayeth, next time you won't survive it_
Because I was close to drive it_
Is this my temptation?
Or brought by my own lustration?
My soul has become darkened_
For the crooked  way is easy_
Its harder on the straight,
I don't want to be fake,
Neither do I want to be like the snake_

But dear righteous and Holy Father_
Your son is so tired,
I do feel I should be retired,
For the pressure on my plate_
I feel like I'm going to break_
I know you Father, that you don't make mistakes,
So I'll back off and watch you re-create me.

SAGE O'FIRE


SLAVERY

Chains singing, fetters dangling_
Shackles jingling, locks clinging,
On necks, hands and as leggings,
Why hath thou awaken the demon?
Know ye not, he feasts on the common?
Elites sits in thrones_
debating if we be sold or stoned,
Raps of shekels, silver and gold_
before we blinked, we were bound,
hands and feet, we were sold.

I here the cries in Africa_
the people bleeping from Libya,
I feel the chills and the fears_
Down the spine, within my hairs_
In this present age, slave trade be born again,
From hades hath it risen from its slain.

Oh, hear the cry of the helpless_
See the smile of the heartless,
Feel the pain of the slave trade,
Know the hurt, the shackles made,
Never to wear the badge of freedom,
Far from the bosom of liberty.

Let it be known,
I lay myself at freedom's feet_
Let it be shown, I choose to be free,
like the Greek fleet,
To live and die a man free_
rather than beg and whipped on my knees,
I stand sure,
Like the statue of Liberty_
I speak thus,
Against the trend of slavery.

SAGE O'FIRE


THE OLD DAYS

Boy, do I long for those days_
Where things were soft and sway,
When we'll greet our elders,
with the earth feeling our beard,
Not by removing earphones
from one ear_
When skirts would be stained,
 from excessive respectful kneeling,
And not in a form of kangarooling.

I miss the times,
when fog accompanied hamattan_
And mist was in the sight of men,
and not this times,
When heat makes my body burn_
and the air blew with such a horn.

I have heard of the times when_
one dollar was equal to one naira,
And the times.
when the government gifts you a car,
When the first radio station in Africa_
was built in Nigeria_
Or when we were tagged the giant of Africa,
And endued with great respect among ,
the states on the continent_
Or when we sold our produce and still had enough for contentment.

I missed the times,
when I ran home to watch cartoons_
Or the times when l wish I was grown up too soon,
To watch barney and friends,
hoping to become spiderman,
or his amazing friends.

I miss having imaginary thoughts_
where I was the general of thousands,
And I fought, bravely at the front,
Subduing cities till I lost count_
I miss the times when we ran around,
In undies, till we be out of energies_
I do miss the times that be,
I miss the old days,
where the times be free.

SAGE O'FIRE