Empire Kreate

Genre: Poetry Title: Storms Within My Spirit Author: John King Ayanfe © In today, i go back to yesterdays That yesterdays whence my lips kiss mics Truly, my fingers cause drums rumblings A charger to the lips which pray A voice which pierce the hearts for repentance One occupied with the activities in heaven Now a prodigal son without repentance Far from the gathering wherein salvation dances Dancing to the beats of life's challenges After chief hosts of altars spelt wrongly Converting celestial activities to financial enterprises Thwarting dreamers' dreams, salvation and elevation Preachers of salvation, yet givers of shackles Preachers of salvation, they yet need salvation Lovers of money and women; demonic preachers They murdered my spunk - they buried my drive Our leader has solo in worship and prayers Son of Spirit still connected; aroused by THE WORD For me is a battle of spirit and flesh Oh wretched flesh with a willing spirit Who wil fathom the storms within

Genre: Poetry Title: My Country Author: John King Ayanfe © My country, a beloved to my soul An abode of my birth and my unborn death I have heard of your fertile soil Oh, your abundance be yet a host to dearth Many tribes like branches on the giant sequoia tree You're a giant! Taller than Kilimanjaro - yeah, Mount Everest Stronger than trojan's horses - swifter than bald eagles Lo, upon your shoulders echoes thunderous lamentations On a sick bed you lay weak and dying Whilst penury, hardscrabble, corruption and tears feast on you Our doctors have failed to ad-misnister true elixir Just golden promises with harsh reality This unfair troubles make our breath heavier than Olumo rock A new day is borne unto this broken land Her illness shall be washed away Song we shall sing - Dance we shall - playing our gangan Around the trees and atop the mountains shall we celebrate Our troubles shall solely be written in history Arise o, compatriot. Come now to beautify this land B

Genre: Poetry Title: Rebirth Author: John King Ayanfe © I'm a being beaten by a bragging-heartless life Being a being beaten by beasts baffles my broken being Ever being seared by topsy-turvy tempetuous time Trepidation portrays and whistles to my broken self Far from faith fetch i fears for my fate My feet finding no fountain for fortitude Too many holes hold the whole of my ambitions The dreams i dream dream i to be dreamt My life kissed knife and i strife Should i have been begotten? Tempests taunt me Day-by-day i go to the house of hope Wherein i find a drop of water for my rebirth Oh! My scars bleed - my bleeds are not scarse Love, religion and education poorly succeeded to fail me My heart's been lonely - my life's a desserted desert I'm a body of ocean, yet without water - oh I need a rebirth - o' reality, chant your incantations That the duration of hopeless situation embrace expiration My broken being need rebirth and comfort as my berth I carved my own reb

Title: New Hope Author: John King Ayanfe © Date: 29/05/2023 From the fist of democracy we seek joyous feast Our feast of independence has been thwarted by greed's fist To speak in hope became our wildest shame For upon our comfort they play political game They make gangantic promises; empty, futile and unrealistic They put modern infastructures in places by bogus words They come as messiahs, yet are slaves to avarice That they become like ancient masters of captivity Lo, our past heroes lay angered in their skelental stance Weeping for the degraded state of our proposed great land Mental shackles bewitch the mental strenght of the masses Alas! Can any good thing come out of this land Lo and behold, a new hope sprout Yet again a new quartet-years stand before us Portrayed as the omega of lamentations, and alpha of comfort We anticipate the beautification of a land defaced by corruption Now, shall we have a land devoured of kleptomanias Now, shall there be true governance engraved in

Title: Cities Author: John King Ayanfe © There is a city; city christened 'Earth' There is a city beneath the earth There is a city in the waters of earth There is a city in the air of the earth Cities within the walls of a city Forces, elements and doings beget their kinds Mysterious in their stance; prolific discharges Oh, the physical is merely bare before spirituality Every city suffers chaos, pains and inflation Earth is calm yet rages with countless troubles Man is the creator of his own storms The cities have been portrayed with perpetual worries Man is borne of flesh and blood To flesh and blood he lives and dies Man spends his ephemeral life dining with iniquities Alas, the body sow for the soul to reap There are yet cities after 'souls' reaper' comes One laid with comfort - 'nother carved of furnance Our cities on earth shall prepare man for either Thus, the benefits of mortal cities elevates either

Genre: Poesy Title: Ode to Sarah Baartman (Hottentot Venus) Author: John King Ayanfe © My quill shall craft, my feather shall eternally portrait Men have forgetten what i repaint from yesterdays Oh Baartman, you were made of figure of speech Of an African decent - of an African accent You were an epitome of a mysterious wonder Your backside was a sitter for Kilimanjaro Your exotic psyche triggered lustful libodo I remember you! I sighted you in Khosa, Southern Africa Oh England, you casted an African daughter for her endowment Thy men cheered watching her butts roll like jimbe They gawk at her; oh faint inhuman skit You coaxed a princess and turned her a toy Oh Baartman, your voice echoes perpetual sexual assaults  Out of thy will; they - they fed thee fried locust How long shall man's gifts be his peril Syphilis, your extermination was premature, yet late salvation Paris, thou dissected the body of an abused soul Sarah, though it took so long to honour thy body Yet the