Emmanuel Odum

My Africa,
a monument from God
his archi-tectural piece
on pillers of golden block
...

Far beyond my eyes,
above the many lies
or truth if i must sigh
i see the heavens cry.
...

And i go to the wilderness
with a heart of bitterness

beyond the tarred roads
...

To one beyond the sky
to one that hear my sigh
for sure you never cry
that's why my patience try
...

Crowned with thorns in place of insight
Subdued and cursed with empty delight
The knowledge they sell is far from the light
Chained by norms with no will to fight
...

Sex is good, sex is delicious
Sex is confusing and can destroy decisions
Sex can be cruel, sex can be vicious
Sex is a faith that transcends religions
...

And off your cloths you silly brath
you good for nothing stinking rat
i knew i trailed your dirty path
now who will seal heavy fart
...

We no send at all
wether the world dey bend
even we dey crawl
we must to reach the end
...

Some will blaze and burn with ease
some will glow but not in peace
some are torn and flame will seize
splendid hold on mantle torch
...

A song in married home
like tiddens in the blue
the turn of lively hope
the marriage creed they blew
...

The hero or the valiant
who rules the parliament?
everyone has a point
even at the war front
...

Frazzled from thoughts
of a disdained world
Festered with plagues
and stanching dens,
...

Wrapped in cold and smelly wind
every scent was bathe in filth
insect songs defile the night
as we hope and dreamt of light
...

That i see the dawn of january
and cuddle lovely february
confused in daring march
my sweet maternal april
...

I remember how you look
your memories never die
i might not see you again
but i sure can't let you go
...

Why procastinate
when time is running late
dare to participate
and hope a happy fate
...

Here the weekend end
i wish that i was dead
Another week to bend
the path i always dread.
...

you are alone in the dark
or wallowing in the light
in your deep lonesome
you confine within
...

She turns heads limbo
smiles like cruise in a limo
her squeezy piles are jumbo
the sight of angels' mirror
...

Lost in the deep
of my merry sleep
my archives heeps
a stenchy filt
...