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Showing posts from 2018

Bad Belle letters...Tinibu and VP Osibanjo blast former president Obasanjo and PDP

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What looked like a direct swipe at the Ex president, former Lagos state Governor at his 10 collegium to mark his 66th birthday celebration held in Lagos 29 march yesterday with President Buhari at attendance, Speaking Tinubu rather comically at the podium addressing the crowd described obasanjo letters as "Bad belle letter"... In his words.. they are writing letters, Bad belle letter as if they haven't be in power before..VP osibanjo when speaking to crowd once again pointed at the corruption of the past adminstration alluding that indeed Nigeria's ills is as a result of massive corruption by the past adminstration..

Sleep

In your palm I rest For safe you keep Away from my troubles In your abode my worries lay dead till I wake of course. My anguish vague in your presence Like an octopus, in safety your tentacles wraps me, so assured. Daze and Dazzle I rest in your fantasy Away from blaring horn of cars, Hordes of foot steps, my ears becomes deaf in pleasure.. Sleep, carries  me like a child in her mother's womb, protected from the world. But eager to deliver me to world For perhaps we are only guest in sleep home, for any delay  stay leads to death. You bring comfort when weary, In your palace everyone is a king, Free to dream no limit no obstacles For even Kings and laird can become servants and the other master in sleep For the poor can ride on horse's The limped can run, The crippled can walk.

"lessiful"

The privileged few sits, merry With fist clinched, mouth's filled. They Held on tight to plenty . Devoid of provident The poor Loafers Soonest Mirth turned sorrow But the early morning sun rose Bringing gay and brisk and soon, gaiety returned But the dark nights still harbours, vague terror One that overshadows the moonlight. From cock crow to dusk, They till the soil, but sadly during harvest they reap nothing. For a weakening soil those not reap well Neither does a lazy man reap bountiful But those who sow yam at the first rain, And weed at its tendrils reaps well, In grim the lazy struggle, small they reap. Alas!! The hunter as returned Sadly though empty handed For even his tricks doesn't lay sway the animals knoweth it all.

BODA LUKU..Bisola Drops New single

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Bisola Aiyeola popularly known by her first name Bisola, is the second runner of  2017 Big Brother Naija Edition, Drops her brand new single titled BODA LUKU....The song is a perfect blend of afro melody with a catchy tone, and a little bit of comedy in typical Bisola fashion.. The song was produced by the talented Adey and released under Temple record label.. Bisola narrowly missed out of 25million grand Price when she was beating by the whiskers to EFE..in last year's edition of BNN.

Jay z tops Forbes list as the Wealthiest artists Beating P. Diddy

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Shawn Corey Carter, popularly known by his stage name Jay Z is now the wealthiest artists According to the recent Forbes list...Jay z racked up a whooping sum of $900million dollars tied to his businesses with TIDAL Armand de Brignac champagne as well as D'Usse Cognac, He dethrones P. Diddy who has been holding the NO. 1 stop since 2011. P.diddy sits at the NO.2 spot with a staggering $825 million dollars.. With businesses like Rovolt TV cable ciroc and Vodka.. Dr Dre sits at No 3 spot with $770million... While the likes of Drake and Eminem shares the 4th and 5th spot with $100million each..

War

Born infant Her growth stunted No other than herself Wayward and self aggrandize Her pregnant children Never delivers, Those who make it to birth, Dies before christening Perhaps her doctors are docile Her midwives disillusioned Six years to her christening Her sons waged war No external aggressors Just her, herself and her sons Plagued by greed, They exhibits strands of intolerance Clobbering their swords against the, moonless sky. The aroma of gunpowder fills the air Men squealing and snarling as the, ground became greasy with gore Still they wrestle, on their mother' breasts Same breasts they sulked milk from Unperturbed the children plays Albeit with sunken eyes and swollen belly they kick their woollen ball, War songs are now lullabies, the kids recites to bed. In clusters the elders gather, Too old to fight Frail and weary, They wonder about their wounds Indeed sleep as been betrayed, Perhaps so, other than those at war To what end is this,...

.....Africa's Renaissance

It is quite astounding that Africa which was once viewed by the rest of the world, as a dark continent owing to the fact that very little was know about it....Although such impression of Africa being dark can't really be taken fully into cognizance..The Europeans who first arrived at Africa's shores gave such impression but a more detailed and microscopic look at our history shows that such assertions may not be truly right. Egypt for instance is still known as the cradle of civilization. Hieroglyphs an ancient Egyptian form of writing dates back as far as the 13th century, While the Portuguese who were the first to sail to Africa only did so in 15th century.. Slave trade then heightened in the 17th century when European farmers needed more Man power labour in their sugar cane plantations.. Slave trade obviously defined Africa status in the world stage as marked by the "Masters and servants " terminology.. The Berlin conference of 1884/1885 which was the Scrabble fo...

OLD MAN

S itting in his wooden chair The old man gazed into the forays of           stars, his chair leaning backwards, legs crossed Arms rested peacefully on his chest His mind drifted into the inner circle of his thoughts Underneath his legs the grass swerve to the tone of the wind His eyes clinched as his thoughts veiled into the darkest parts of his past And a slight grinned as those thoughts wandered into pleasant memories. The sound of the birds screeching Painted a serene picture of a perfect Night under the stars Solitude for the old man, brings unrivalled ,tranquility one money can't afford . But in the midst of solitude he yearns for companionship. The past of his youthfulness still haunts him and now he's paying for it in every penny ,in his old age. Through does years he lamented For the panoply of the hay days is gone In self flagellation he torture himself. But why torture, when he could live Life is like a book, ev...