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Business / Re: How Was "Naira" Coined? Obafemi Awolowo Coined The Currency Name, Naira, In 1973 by lyricalpontiff(m): 7:19pm On Aug 28, 2018
Never Allow Igbos Rule Again is the acronym for NAIRA

1 Like

Literature / Small Girl With A Big God by lyricalpontiff(m): 6:28pm On Jul 12, 2018
This is the era were small girls have big gods
Behind closed doors, tucked under sheets 
They do nothing by surrendering everything
Where do you think the iPhone came from?
There is really a good God behind the scenes.

Small girl big God, this is complex simplicity 
Where did these shoes and bags come from?
You think a prayer is real enough to conjure 
A crumb of bread on the tables of slayqueens?
You think they find nourishment in church?

Indeed small girls have a Big God, Gods rather
The mystery of a divine tryst can be understood 
In this Buhari economy, let sleeping dogs snore 
Pray your pocket is deep enough to touch her
Empty well then you will be termed 'Big God'

But how can we resist this so called small girls?
When their skimpy things beckon seductively 
They move to and fro with enticing swagger 
Devourers of gods, who can break this spell?
Small girl indeed, tamer of Big things and things.

1 Like

Education / Re: Some Meanings You May Not Know by lyricalpontiff(m): 10:15am On Jun 28, 2017
Lol
Religion / Re: Joshua Iginla Visits Manger Where Jesus Was Wrapped & Kept After Delivery (Photo by lyricalpontiff(m): 1:40pm On Jun 23, 2017
Jesus (yehueshua) was born in a cave in Ethiopia, it wa changed by the Europeans in the council of Nicea meeting of bishops
Literature / 30 Days Of Poetry Season 3, Day 19 "Go To The Tribunal" Pix Inside by lyricalpontiff(m): 4:40pm On Jun 19, 2017
GO TO THE TRIBUNAL

If you feel the war is not over
And the bile stirs the carcass of anger
Before you dig up the hatchet you buried
Before you beat the drum of war
GO TO THE TRIBUNAL

When your head is filled with storms
And you can’t stand the hurricane of wrongs
Especially when results foul the wind
Before you crop-off some scalps, please
GO TO THE TRIBUNAL

Even when Abacha’s ghost weeps at the good works
And a white flag is waved on the heaps of corpses
When the truth is strafed on a pendulum
Please pick up the bones, hold your rage and
GO TO THE TRIBUNAL

If you are a grieving one eaten by anger
Against the terrors in camouflage
Don’t you know federal horns feed fat from choice bones?
Just go back home and sleep with opened eyes, tomorrow
GO TO THE TRIBUNAL

If they call red white, and white black
And the villain is crowned a saint
If your wife fails in her spousal duties
Don’t cheat on her, hold your hardon and
GO TO THE TRIBUNAL

Justice is blind and at times deaf
But she’s the only friend you can count on
So if you can’t bear the burdens of omissions and commissions
Take your rugged cross and some Franklyn faces to her
GO TO THE TRIBUNAL

Who cares for you bloody anguish?
From a land with no foothold for peace
Where violence is a daily rite, bloodstained hands
Bloody hearts, tough heads dancing on quicksand
Brothers fight brothers to the applause of neighbours
Remember the tribunal will be staged near the rocky villa
Because you would rather blow up your home
Than live as one under one roof.

We are thrilled by this action packed movie
We are all excited to watch your nude dance
Count your corpses floating on the Rivers of blood
Name them one by one, see what your rage has done

1 Like

Literature / 30 Days Of Poetry Season 3, Day 17 "He Devil" Pix Inside by lyricalpontiff(m): 3:22pm On Jun 17, 2017
HE DEVIL

He lurks in the shadow of the moon
His words area air, her heart a balloon
He rides on the wheels of her urge
And comes with that sensational surge

They say love is blind
So she has read the braille of his mind
She measures his heart on the scale of promises
He said he would bridge the gap between miss and misses

Love is such an itchy thing
He’s the most perfect she’s ever seen
She sees the future right inside his eyes
And the ring opened the door between her thighs

Some lies can quench the refinery fire
Talking off her clothes, fulfilling his sole desire
She said ‘you have seen it all, when are we seeing my Pastor?’
His reply got her cursing his Mother, Father and Ancestors?

Literature / 30 Days Of Poetry Season 3, Day 16 "Me And My Boo" Pix Inside by lyricalpontiff(m): 1:48pm On Jun 16, 2017
ME AND MY BOO

Daughter of the master blacksmith of this town
Your majestic beauty and aura wears you crown
I have traversed the globe; I have landed in your hut
I will come with my people and your father’s kolanut
My boo, I have chosen you from among all flowers
I will spend all my seconds, minutes and hours
To plant seeds of smiles and happiness on your face
I shall pluck the rainbow and bring it to your place
Then wrap it all around your tempestuous waist
Anything to please you, I will do it in haste
When you walk, your hips can make a boat capsize
It makes my head swell; I need a new cap size
When you dance, all the palm fronds clap
And the branches of other envious trees flap
When you run, you nimble like a gazelle of the Savannah
Your tears remind me of Kintampo waterfalls of Ghana
My boo when you laugh, Mini ngwugwo shivers
And you’re your voice sends ripples to other rivers
Your eyes are flames when we play in the dark
When you are gone, you are like blood and I a shark
I will hold your hands and take you to the moonlight
Away from this sleeping neighborhood and windowed lights
Away from the sounds of crickets, bullfrogs and trees
Just above the skies with pleasant caress of cool breeze
I will read you a poem to the hearing of Venus and Mars
I will hold and kiss you to the envy of murmuring stars
With one knee down, I shall wear you a diamond ring
I will carry my Queen in my arms and I will be your King
In our wedding we shall sing and we shall dance too
Just ME AND MY BOO…………………………………………………………….

Politics / Re: A Landlocked Biafra Vs A Deadlocked Northern Nigeria, Who Actually Has The Keys by lyricalpontiff(m): 8:23pm On Jun 15, 2017
Cool information
Literature / 30 Days Of Poetry Season 3, Day 15 "Nkechi" Pix Inside by lyricalpontiff(m): 2:50pm On Jun 15, 2017
NKECHI

Her name is Nkechi, my special Nkechi
I love my Nkechi, so beautiful is Nkechi

I went out alone that rainy Friday night
I’d leave home early, didn’t want her to come
Nobody knew that evening I had missed my flight
I just wanted to chill, my head was a storm

Her name is Nkechi, my personal Nkechi
I adore my Nkechi, so gorgeous is Nkechi

The time was a quarter past ten
The hands of vodka were too strong
So I decided to call Chidi and Ben
It was Friday and the night was young

Her name is Nkechi, my correct Nkechi
I like my Nkechi, so pretty is Nkechi

Network was rude, Chidi’s number switched off
My battery dying and Ben’s house was close
Headed for his crib to charge my phone and stuff
Knowing he spends his Fridays indoors with hoes

Her name is Nkechi, my sweet Nkechi
I treasure my Nkechi, so sexy is Nkechi

I got there a bit soaked and felt the door
It wasn’t locked, music banging loud noise
I entered and saw a familiar shoe on the floor
I walked calmly and recognized her voice

Her name is Nkechi, my darling Nkechi
I cherish my Nkechi, so ravishing is Nkechi

Screaming in ecstasy, Ben banged her harder
I knew it was Nkechi; I banged on Ben’s room
They refused to open the door, I got MADder
I stopped a bit as silence crept in, spelling doom

Her name is Nkechi, my deceitful Nkechi
I hate my Nkechi, so ugly is Nkechi

Even thunder grumbled as rain soaked the night
Her cloths, bag and pant all littered the floor
Music off, called Chidi to meet me at the speed of light
They’ve been trapped; the world will meet us at this door

Her name is Nkechi, that wicked Nkechi
I’ll strangle that Nkechi, so devilish is Nkechi…

1 Like

Literature / 30 Days Of Poetry Season 3, Day 14 "Tsunami" Pix Inside by lyricalpontiff(m): 11:46am On Jun 14, 2017
TSUNAMI

LYRICAL PONTIFF:
I was just on my own o…
Playing with beach sand
Innocently on the shore.
Under the bright moonlight
Suddenly, the roaring tide
Overtook its bank like a
Raging monster. Waves
Stretched their fangs and
I could only but surrender.
Screaming in loud silence
Bleeding out my innocence.


MENTALLY_BADASS:
"It was a mistake; I would never hurt you again
If you tell, you would only face more pain
You asked for it, with your smile and revealing outfit
You practically begged for it, you gotta admit"
All these and more you said
Never an apology for sneaking into my bed
For tearing my clothes while I scream NO
I begged to be left alone, for you to go
I know if I tell anyone, I know the pain wouldn't end
Especially when everyone seems to be your friend


MISS LUCKLYN:
I played beautifully in the rain
My shoulders held high as i reign
The wind made jokes with my dress
Running with my heart panting at rest
Blue skies made mockery of my mind
I was sure I could see Angels in the sky
Then came the angry and hungry darkness
Boasting in the clouds without hindrance
Exposing my innocent parts
To a structure with no pants
With itchy eyes and wide mouth with more
He feasted on my very essence
My legs, he ripped apart with his black act
His rod pierced my soul and all of me
The stuttering of my lips were rhythmic melodies
In the passage of seconds, he had arrived
While I was sent on a journey of no arrival.
And the dark sky watched in amusement,
The cloud took its sit in the throne of silence.
It was the end of my reign……………………

LYRICAL PONTIFF:
I lie naked, broken, frozen and bruised
Natural pap will tell you when to stop
Every day I am conquered by tsunami
Alone with this deity in the wee hours
The world lies dead asleep around us
The moon will not intervene in my case
And all the stars will claim to be blind
This Tsunami rises against my dear sleep
Doors and cloths are just frail things
And threats are gifts sent to calm me…

Literature / 30 Days Of Poetry Season 3, Day 13 "Food For Thought" Pix Inside by lyricalpontiff(m): 3:08pm On Jun 13, 2017
FOOD FOR THOUGHT

Thoughts of you eat my nightmare
I met you in a dark bar, sipping a light beer
I bought you orange soda; I had a crush on you
You were pepperish, red hot like Yoruba stew
The kind of crush that can turn meat to paste
Your friends took table water, they had no taste
But when they ordered for sea foods, I smelt something fishy
I already had enough on my plate, plus I no get shishi
Pepper been no rest, not even tomato
I just go borrow underground like potato
Come dey burn bread any how like a bad toaster
I’ve sugar coated lines; I’m not a bad toaster
You were sow (so) fly, I wanted winged pork
But the dumb waiter didn’t give a fork
Like heated ice cubes, I let out steam
Your friends treated me like hot ice cream
In fact like a cannibal, giving me cold shoulder
Because I’m not a star or hero, I just turn gulder
I’m Soda like mineral but you gave me high spirit
You didn’t give me beef, venison was it
Chiking you was time consuming like eating a clock
It was all piom piom free, I didn’t suck
I clutched at straws; you gave me reply in sips
Just like pan cake, you gave me creeps (crepes)
You accepted me with a pinch of salt
Your past is a soured soup, not your fault
This love is warming inside, I’m like pots
Like my cashew driver, you drive me nuts
I know my onions but you make me cry….
To be continued

Sports / Re: Throwback: When Pele And Arthur Ashe Were Caught Up In A Nigerian Coup. by lyricalpontiff(m): 7:03pm On Jun 12, 2017
Good for history
Literature / 30 Days Of Poetry Season 3, Day 12 "When Monsters Prosper " Pix Inside by lyricalpontiff(m): 1:18pm On Jun 12, 2017
WHEN MONSTERS PROSPER

When monsters prosper
Pain strangles the lean neck of our land
And we squirt tears into God’s eyes
Then move on with faces like broken glasses
As our dreams groan under tyranny’s feet
We lie stifled and silent in cold grip

When monsters prosper
Prophets read the spreadsheet of future in error
And prophecies miss the road like stray bullets
The shame is a heavy cross to carry
Until nerves come to breaking point
Now the world awaits a greencard to be torn

When monsters prosper
The world deals its final blow
On the sorry faces of disgruntled wailers
What should one make of God
When one’s prayer grow mucor in his KIV drawer
And all you can is ‘it is well’

When monsters prosper
We shall enthrone the villain
And armed masquerades will dance in cathedrals
A deluge will certainly come
A raging flood of zombies will overrun the land
And corpses will surely litter the streets

When monsters prosper
Pray you don’t walk on corpses on your way home
The moon will be painted red and stars black
And soldiers will run mad with anger
Before thunder deroof the world
Then bullets will be sweet melody to our ears

When monsters prosper
He owls shall lead the choir of night and day
Bats will stand sentry at noon
Plus vultures will head the jury
You better mourn the sick world upfront
Because monsters will toss the globe on their middle finger.

When monsters prosper
They shall rise like a penis in erection
Blood will flow down the puffy cheeks of the land
Because monsters are hungry for blood sacrifice
Just read the signs in the eye of time
Monsters will see the broom and Passover.

Literature / 30 Days Of Poetry Season 3, Day 11 "Traffic Madness" Pix Inside by lyricalpontiff(m): 6:57pm On Jun 11, 2017
TRAFFIC MADNESS

The year is twenty seventeen
Mad drivers on the prowl, madness lengthen
And traffic is slow like it’s on codeine
Come and see aged vehicles panting with fatigue
No fuel, flat tire yet dancing on the express
Buses are now beast of burden
Heaped with unimaginable adornments
Tanker drivers love it stale
Stale stories, stale plots, they never fail
Trailer drivers are elephants on the road
Yet they challenge taxi the gazelle to a race
And keke will challenge range rover to a tug of war
Then the outcome is an eye sore
Traffic jam is the state anthem we all sing
From oil mill to Bori camp, this song is king
From Rumuola down to waterlines
Traffic jam is a melody with sweet lines
The fire of traffic light can’t kill this song
From UTC to Borikiri, this evil tune is long
All the flyovers sing this anthem too
Police is your friend, hold up is your boo
Patience grows tough on the manure of PH roads
Wisdom is a vapour on the ugly face our roads
Finally, when we move like a crippled snail
In joy we sing praises and to God we hail.

Literature / 30 Days Of Poetry Season 3, Day 10 "Flat Earth" Pix Inside by lyricalpontiff(m): 12:43pm On Jun 10, 2017
FLAT EARTH

What if everything that is obvious is true?
Will my songs be oily in the throat of your mind?
Will that be a borderline to my troubled soul?
Will that put a needle on the balloon of deception?
So what if everything that is obvious is true?

It is obvious that the earth is flat
But they say it is curved
It is obvious that the world is motionless
Yet they say that it moves
It is obvious that the heavens revolve around us
Yet they say it is us that revolve
It is obvious that the sun is bigger than the stars
Yet they tell us otherwise
It is obvious that the sun and moon are the same size
Yet they say the sun is 400 times larger
It is obvious that the earth is just a plain
Yet they say it is one of many other planets

I’m just a soldier of truth and reason
Holding my thoughts like the ice walls
Of Antarctica holding the oceans
I must not trust my eyes they say
The world is a gigantic spinning ball
The earth is spherical, it is an ellipsoid,
No they also say the world is a gioid
So I bury my query in the belly of the wind
The truth doesn’t exist like the South Pole
Polaris sits on the dome of the heavens
As the sun, moon and stars are like a spinning chandelier
Only our imaginations have been sent to space
We are used to lies and laugh at the truth
Changing one’s mind is like pulling a tooth
We are on a flat disc protected by firmaments
Before you label me “dementia”, ask yourself
Why must everything magical and untrue
Be called science, and nothing that is obvious is true.

Literature / 30 Days Of Poetry Season 3, Day 9 "Slay Queens" Pix Inside by lyricalpontiff(m): 9:11am On Jun 10, 2017
SLAY QUEENS

Some girls will be forming slay queens for Africa
Most looking like a stock fish replica
No flesh there, just beauty on plain bone
It doesn’t make sense like getting blood from a stone

Fat or slim, you can be flyer than a rocket
Without curves, you’re like a jean trouser w’out pocket
Forty years ago, sanity resided here in our hood
Now it’s Agbani syndrome, no thanks to Hollywood

Seventies, Orobor was the real eish
Men and flesh just like water and fish
Big boobs, thick thighs and ass like a mountain
And lekpa girls will cry you a fountain

Where is she today? I mean my beautiful Orobor
They were the national cake our fathers went for
But nowadays almost every girl is guilty
Of adulterated, fake or artificial beauty

But who has seen my orobor, my elegant elephant
We took pride in celebrating and branding an ant
But who sees our millipede chase, won’t know we own snakes
We left our oceans and set sail on little lakes

They even sell fake yansh everywhere in town
Slay queen indeed, Brazilian hair is her crown
Hours on the mirror coming out with a mask
Looking natural, O! What a herculean task

When it comes to slay queens, I can write a book
When I see them around, me too I take a look
Don’t blame me; I’m just an unsuspecting prey
‘Father, save us from Jezebels’ in my mind I pray

Literature / 30 Days Of Poetry Season 3, Day 8 "Let Me Mop Your Tears" Pix Inside by lyricalpontiff(m): 11:54am On Jun 08, 2017
LET ME MOP YOUR TEARS

I’m still here beating the drum of love
I won’t stop until I plant smiles on your face
But the ghost of the past stirs your anger
Yesterday’s wound is fresh and still bleeds
I’m just a victim of transferred aggression

Let me mop your ocean of tears
I’m standing on your parched riverbed of emotions
Your cloud wears a thick black garment
Though waves of my words hit your shores
But you listen to my sermons with wooden face

Let me mop your deluge of tears
Allow me close the floodgates of your eyes
Daily I cast nets of words into your river
But your voice is a venomed orchestra
And clouds of ashes fall softly on me

Let me mop the flood from your eyes
I’m already soaked in your sea of sadness
The pain in your voice cuts through my heart
I can’t impress a heart that is a cold iron
Only if my actions can wash away yesterday’s bile

I hope to still beat this drum of love
Signs from your eyes have told me to stop
But there is no sunshine, there is no clear sky
I’m still beating the drum, hearing the footsteps of rainbow
I’ll beat it hard under the threats of thunder and lightening

Let me mop your tears…

Literature / 30 Days Of Poetry Season 3, Day 7 "Next-door Neighbour" Pix Inside by lyricalpontiff(m): 12:45pm On Jun 07, 2017
NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOUR

He had a face that frowns even when he smiles
Looking like he’s full of storms, an awkward style
Always too serious, acting like he’s dumb and deaf
These are the attributes of a gentleman, Mr. Jeff

Just by the next door is the abode of Miss Suzy
Blurry life with a 9 to 5 keeping her busy
Who doesn’t know home is a warm nest
She’s watered by books, avoids weeds and pest

But Jeff is a flower that grew on concrete garden
Burdens of experience can make ones heart harden
Suzy is fighting a war in her inner front
Publicly, she’s uninterested in the husband hunt

Nobody knows that Jeff’s face is just a mask
Exchanging pleasantries became a herculean task
For Suzy who has already approximated him
But her cup of patience got filled to the brim

She descended from her mountain of ego
On the valley lies a crossroad of “greet” and “don’t go”
Her spirit was ready but her lips were tied
She dug a shallow grave and buried her pride

Just by the corridor, at a very close range
She bluntly said “hi”, it was so strange
It sent shock sparks, planting him on the spot
But his reply went to her goal post as a hot shot

”Bonjour jolie demoiselle” was his reply
Suddenly Suzy looked straight into his eye
“Vous n’etes pas serieux”, both busting into laughter
They spoke at length, and became friends after

Jeff finally came down from his high stilt
His confession was wrapped foils of guilt
She was actually his crush at first sight
Thoughts of her often ate his sleep at night

He went underground just to plot that act
Social media said she was the French type. In fact
He took up French lessons as a weapon in his Suzy hunt
Yet the eternal inner war just posed a front

1 Like

Literature / 30 Days Of Poetry Season 3, Day 6 "What Should I Do?" Pix Inside by lyricalpontiff(m): 1:45pm On Jun 06, 2017
WHAT SHOULD I DO?

What should I do,
With this touch flaming in my heart?
What should I do,
With these claws of fire raking the pieces of my mind?

Your name flower on the humus of my mind
You are my crush, in my heart you grind
When I say I love you to pieces
This piece is just a question
And I need an answer
You are my cancer
I’m swallowing food colouring, dying inside
Chiking is like juggling, I don’t have the balls to do it
We lack chemistry like incomplete science teachers
I’m knocking on your door like Jehova witness preachers

What should I do,
With this touch flaming in my heart?
What should I do,
With these claws of fire raking the pieces of my mind?

My measureless love for you is like prison wall, not built to scale.
And it’s getting out of hand like an overgrown finger nail
I won’t say no strings attached like a spoilt guitar
But the truth is like orange peel, always bitter.

What should I do?
I need an answer in return
Our love will be a marathon
I see marriage in a long run.
Saying I love you is like teaching history
Giving old news…
Please love me like the old blues
I have the greens like I mixed yellow and blue
I wish you knew or had the slightest clue
Of my love. I’m a surveyor I have plans for you…

What should I do,
With this touch flaming in my heart?
What should I do,
With these claws of fire raking the pieces of my mind?
Please tell me…

1 Like

Literature / 30 Days Of Poetry Season 3, Day 5 "Stranger In Walakpa" Pix Inside by lyricalpontiff(m): 11:09am On Jun 05, 2017
STRANGER IN WALAKPA

A prostitute in my village
Is a virgin in Walakpa
Even the ghost of Sodom and Gomorrah
Will reel at the good works of Walakpa

Lust is impatient around here
Pubs are hungry enough to eat your dinner
A town begging for conscience
Stays vigil under the moonlight

The palm trees and elephant grasses saluted
We the brave visitors yielding to the clarion call
After 21 days, this is freedom’s sweet kiss
Destiny has dragged me into this place

The sun stretched its arms across Walakpa
Yet clouds pushed each other in the sky
The breeze whispered the rumours of the forest
And it makes still waters to shiver

I sang a lonely song to the shimmering stars
And I watched my candle flame dance
The trees all nodded in the wind
As crickets argued long into the night

Walakpa really needs ugly girls
My heart has been skipping around my chest
Since this 8 figured goddess appeared
They will hang me for the love of eye candies

Walakpa will chew you up and spit you out
So my heart said, but she stole my mind
I overheard the streets talking about us
How we rendezvous beside the wooden bridge

Walakpa doesn’t care to hear your church sermons
A town hanging on a pendulum, morally bankrupt
And all you can tell me is just to be born again
Against the opportunity knocking on my door?

Last night, the wind sang through the window pane
I heard steps lurking in the thick shadows
I could smell her, I could feel her around
My door protested as it slowly opened

She was tsunami devouring my coastline
Pleasure moaned as I swung from it
Then the thunder grumbled in objection
So the fun came screeching to a halt

Subscribe to view the poem in full

Literature / 30 Days Of Poetry Season 3, Day 4 "Chike's Burden" Pix Inside by lyricalpontiff(m): 5:39pm On Jun 04, 2017
Chike's Burden ‎

Chike's heart is a tennis court ‎
Love means nothing 
His love life is a squeezed page
Can it be straight again? 

Chike sits on the headstone of emotions 
Wearing an agbada of errors 
Vultures still feast on the remains of his lovelife
Nails of sucide scratch, but he loves life

But why? Why Chike??
Agnes would rather give her vault 
Of faithfulness to a church rat
Rather than Chike a money bag

Chike bought Heaven and Earth for Rita
All he needed was just her tithe of love
But she packaged an offering of hell
He holds wreaths of withered memories 

Chike obviously can't buy love
But he is paying heavily for it
Thoughts of Nneka poisons his heart ‎
She was a needle in his blossoming balloon of love

Finally Rachel seemed to be clear skies 
But it was just from frying pan to fire
She was fronting but behind a hooker
Rolling for the pocket like a snooker ball

Chike know say water wey dem take make eba
Dem ‎no dey see am again 
Person wey madman done bite before 
If him see mechanic, him go take off

Literature / 30 Days Of Poetry Season 3, Day 3 "Loveheads" Pix Inside by lyricalpontiff(m): 7:56pm On Jun 03, 2017
LOVEHEADS
Why is she so sleepless?
Smiling with her eyes closed
In the dead of the night
Someone is drunk from the
Hardwine of love. And dares
The silent fangs of darkness

On the other side, it’s worse
He has been rooted at a spot
But she runs a marathon in
His head. Words are ocean
On the lips of a lovehead.
Love is his sane madness

Love is the drum he beats.
Love is the song she sings.
Everyone knows her routine
Her hourly calls to her boo.
When he comes back home
He’s in her bosom via Skype.

This thing called love is real
And it knows no boundary.
Calm in London like Thames
She sparks him up like flames.
Naija in flesh, her spirit abroad
He’s the one scattering her dada

Lovers walk on stilts of promises
They defy the bearing of the wind
Time will tell the tail(tale) of lovers
Will it breakdown halfway? Will it
Come white to the alter? Or be
Anchored on the shore of enternity………………………………………………………

Literature / 30 Days Of Poetry Season 3, Day 2 "Beer Parlour Gist " Pix Inside by lyricalpontiff(m): 9:54am On Jun 02, 2017
Beer parlour gist ‎

When Ngo got to the door of his house 
He could smell beef in the air, cooked by his spouse 
He knew they will wear the same skirt and blouse

'Go back to that beer parlour ' her voice boomed
'Shaybe I held you back, yet off you zoomed'
Ngo already knew the night was doomed 

Drunk Ngo banged on the door. 'No I can't'
She yelled boiling, 8 months pregnant 
The noise leaves an ear for their co-tenants

She cried: 'sow your explanations to the heavens'
'You left this house thirty minutes past seven' 
'Ngo look at the time, past eleven! Past eleven!!'

He has been caught in the Web of endless nag
Cut her a slack, she has always raised the white flag
She knows his beer habit is a filthy rag

Yet waves of peace washed the bile off her shore
Light dey, cable dey, beer sef dey, what else is he looking for?
Peppersoup plus gen nko, U want her to open which door?

Hmmm, finally she lends him her grace
He staggers in, staring at his pregnant wife's face
Flying words Mars his breathing space 

It sounds like sheer nagging but for her tears
He builds a bridge of excuses but who cares?
Maybe his 3 year old daughter who fears

Her dad, her greetings often hits a wall of snub
His wife asks 'why drown yourself in that pub?'
'When I have bought heaven and earth to make here a hub'

'I want the crumbs that fall from the table of your time'
'Is coming back home to your family now a crime? '
'I bought your favourite, I spent my last dime'

He laughs, and says: 'you can buy all the drinks in the mall'
'You can mount a giant screen that can cover the whole wall'
'You can cook the hottest Peppersoup, nkwobi and all'

He looks at her, 'there is something missing in the list'
'It's a pity, you can't buy BEER PARLOUR GIST '
Imagine that! Her eyes gets clouded with mist

                                             The end

Literature / 30 Days Of Poetry Season 3, Day 1 "16 Lines 4 Ada" Pix Inside by lyricalpontiff(m): 7:33pm On Jun 01, 2017
Tears are leaves that fall
From the tall tree of grief
How can one give her all
Yet be pushed off the cliff

She was just a true lover
But too perfect to a fault 
Pain is a cruel hangover 
Save your heart in a vault 

‎It's awesome to love with your heart 
It takes courage to be faithful & loyal 
In the face of lies, the this and that
Your love for him was still royal 

When a Queen forgives her X
After the pains & storms, don't ask Y
To whom it may concern, no vex 
Love has defined you... no lie

1 Like

Literature / Finally 30 Days Of Poetry Season 3 Is Here by lyricalpontiff(m): 10:09am On Jun 01, 2017
The month of June is set aside for poetry and the Lyrical Pontiff is here again with the 3rd season of the 30 days of poetry and this time around, he promises to thrill you all with non stop organic poetry.

Education / Re: The Death Of Our Natural Instincts -the Earth Is Flat, We Have All Been Lied To. by lyricalpontiff(m): 4:29pm On Apr 11, 2017
Go to youtube and search for flat earth.
Education / Jesus Was Black And Christianity Started In Egypt by lyricalpontiff(m): 12:31pm On Apr 05, 2017
Was Jesus a Black man?
Yes, unequivocally and beyond a shadow of doubt, Jesus was a black man and there is much evidence to substantiate this. However, before I discuss this evidence, I would like to consider in some detail who Jesus was and to focus on the history of Christianity because Jesus' blackness will not be fully understood or accepted without this background.

Who was Jesus?

That is a very difficult question to answer, for Jesus was and still is many things to many people. To Christians he is a part of the Godhead, the Son of God, the Son of Man, the Prince of Peace, the Word made flesh, the messiah of Jewish expectations. Hence, through his trials, sufferings, temptations, death and resurrection, He provides for the remission of sins, redemption and life eternal for those who follow his teachings and accept him as their personal savior. To me, he is one of the world's 16 crucified saviors -- the last of them, I might add - whose lives fit an almost identical pattern from the time of Horus in 4100 B.C. (according to the most ancient beliefs, he was the first crucified savior) to the time of Judas Christas (Christ the anointed) in the pre-Christian era. In essence, the life that Jesus purportedly led, the activities in which he engaged, his teachings, his trials and sufferings and eventual death and resurrection, are identical to those of Horus and Osiris (two ancient Egyptian gods) and the other 14 crucified saviors. This point of view or revelation, though potentially shocking to the mass of believers, is nevertheless common knowledge to scholars. So Jesus and the belief system that he represents are thus a reappearance of one of the most beautiful ideas of the ancient black Africans of Ta-Merry - now called Egypt - which represented the eternal Father by the ever- coming Son, as in the Child Horus. This was the child of a mother who was the eternal virgin. The doctrines of the Incarnation, i.e., the word made flesh: the virgin birth, the resurrection, the Father-God who is identical to his own son and other doctrines (believed to be specifically Christian) were Egyptian long before there was even the concept of Adam and Eve, Judaism, Christianity and Islam.

Do Christianity as a religion owe its origins in ancient Egypt?

Yes. In addition to what I have just stated, in the Eschatology of the Egyptians is found a trinity and a unity, and the Egyptians believed in punishment as well as everlasting happiness. Not surprisingly, then, the doctrine of everlasting life and the belief in the resurrection of the "Spiritual Body" are, according to Dr. Albert Churchward(author of Signs and Symbols of Primordial Man, Origins of Freemasonry, The Origin And Evolution of Religion, The Origin And Evolution of The Human Race, etc.) "the brightest and most prominent features of the Egyptian religion, and this we find was their belief before the time of the first king of the first dynasty." The general teachings and cosmological world view of the Egyptians eventually filtered down and provided the foundation for later so-called 'Western Religions,' i.e., Judaism, Christianity and Islam. This point is thoroughly documented by the brilliant and prolific African scholar, Dr. Josef ben-Jochannan, in an epic work, African Origins of the Major Western Religions. These teachings were handed down to the Essenes (a mythical Jewish sect in pre-Christian times) who were responsible for the development of many of the teachings and concepts attributed to Jesus.

Education / Evidence That Jesus Was Black And Christianity Started In Egypt by lyricalpontiff(m): 12:13pm On Apr 05, 2017
Christianity as a religion had its origins in ancient Egypt?
Geoghagen: Yes. In addition to what I have just stated, in the Eschatology of the Egyptians is found a trinity and a unity, and the Egyptians believed in punishment as well as everlasting happiness. Not surprisingly, then, the doctrine of everlasting life and the belief in the resurrection of the "Spiritual Body" are, according to Dr. Albert Churchward(author of Signs and Symbols of Primordial Man, Origins of Freemasonry, The Origin And Evolution of Religion, The Origin And Evolution of The Human Race, etc.) "the brightest and most prominent features of the Egyptian religion, and this we find was their belief before the time of the first king of the first dynasty." The general teachings and cosmological world view of the Egyptians eventually filtered down and provided the foundation for later so-called 'Western Religions,' i.e., Judaism, Christianity and Islam. This point is thoroughly documented by the brilliant and prolific African scholar, Dr. Josef ben-Jochannan, in an epic work, African Origins of the Major Western Religions. These teachings were handed down to the Essenes (a mythical Jewish sect in pre-Christian times) who were responsible for the development of many of the teachings and concepts attributed to Jesus.

1 Like 1 Share

Foreign Affairs / Re: 3,000-year-old Statue Of Pharaoh Ramses II Found Buried In Cairo Slum(Photos). by lyricalpontiff(m): 2:30pm On Mar 11, 2017
With the statue, u will understand that ancient Egyptians were all blacks and the present occupants are Arabs that conquered the land and chased and kill the original blacks. Just as ancient Jews too were black.

2 Likes

Literature / Paper Chase by lyricalpontiff(m): 2:36pm On Mar 01, 2017
Chike and Jude were one
To know one was to know the other
Of different parents, yet twin brothers 
And growing up was huge fun

University was a burden to carry 
For Jude, 'school isn't for the wise'
But Chike the bookworm feels otherwise 
'I'll aim for 1stclass, get a job then marry

Chike read books to fan his fire
Jude's academics was already a heap of ash
Their long train of friendship will crash‎
Vows derailed, love divided by barb wire

The wheels of days spin their cycle
Jude used his tongue to count his teeth 
Sucking Franklyns' face from yahoo's teat
Now he makes the rounds in social circles 

Chike is good but the world knows better 
Even church rats creep into the store house
Naira is the language of skirt and blouse 
As days spin their cycle, his eyes get wetter 

In a drunken world that applauds champagne bath
Jude flower on the humus of the sick society 
The world is drunk and wealth is a deity 
Chike will understand when they cross paths

1 Like

Celebrities / Re: 11 Celebrities Who Talked About Their Death Before It Happened by lyricalpontiff(m): 9:23pm On Feb 28, 2017
True
Politics / Re: Historical Nigeria: A Rare Look Into The Past In Fascinating Photos. by lyricalpontiff(m): 9:32pm On Feb 23, 2017
Nice nice nice

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