₦airaland Forum

You should have at least given credit to whom it is due when you post an unoriginal work.

Our Deepest Fear - By Marianne Williamson 

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

Thanks Sean

Nice and funny. Permit to add a continuation. And perhaps others too might have a line or two to add.

Stop, traveller and piss,

On this grave
Wherein lies a manimal
Sani was no saint,
Nor sane
Nasty, greedy, bloody, lustful
Was inane Sani
Till the end

Insightful. Thanks all.

Wow. That was fast. Thanks my dear.

BARACK OBAMA, THE ONE - AN ODE

With smiles, genuine
Or faked
Poise, and style
He charms!

A man of the moment,
Man of the people
The rave of the time
From Cairo to Moscow
Berlin to Ankara,
Rome to Accra
Men, women, follow, worship
The American
The new Moses, the latest Jesus

The Orator,
Relishing the moments
Seizing the occasions
To entertain, effusively
With his gift of the gab
Barack Obama,
‘The One”
A man of uncountable words
A man,
Alas,
Of countable deeds.

[b]THE KING OF POP – A BALLAD


To those who yearn for an ode
As only, the forum bard can
Hearken!
Ye restless ones, longing for the rested,
Hearken!

An ode you wished! A ballad I give
Of a black boy wonder
Who entranced the world
Blacks, whites
With enchanted melody, and
Melodrama
Thrilling them

Hearken, ye mourning souls! Hearken!!
To a ballad
Of a young African-American
A handsome man
Who many moons ago
Taught the world, the scintillating art
Of Moon-walking!

Oh, ye my wistful people, hearken!
To a ballad
Of the King - of Pop
Who craved childhood
Like never before
So much so, that he lived
With little boys in
An amusement park!
Of a King
Who dreaded aging,
That he slept in
An Oxygen casket!

Hearken, ye discontent people! Hearken!!
To a ballad of a Blackman,
Who detested his colour
So much so, that he morphed to a hideous ‘white’ man
Sacrificing his nose, and
Humanity!

Hearken, ye craving people! Hearken!!
To a ballad of a ‘white’ Blackman
An alleged child molester,
Not humane enough,
Even to the cancer stricken!

A ballad of a middle-aged king
Sad, hurting, withdrawn, and
Drowning
In a pool of debts, and bills!

A ballad of frail king
With failing health
Who risked his life for a lifeline!
A ballad of a man
Who died trying to re-emerge!
A ballad of Michael Jackson (RIP)[/b]