Olabosoye Wemimo Olaoluwa Poet Rhyme

Wems Henry Temmy Psalm 7-

I ran to my humble self kneeling down
Shouting Your name to a third person
Wearing Your face under the lamplight
Filled with wet words weakening weight  drown 
That passion once crowned goes weaken
Have I soon forgotten goodnesses that had given me delight 

Tasty is favor, great blessing indeed
The ones unimaginably the result off my deed 

Fill our hearts with laugh
Let mercy cast off bother
Dear Being- immortal

Flickering over like a newsreel for the breaking story
Busy with keen interest in search of job opportunity
It cracks like a stiff spine stressing up anxiety 
How difficult to turn and stop been addressed as quarry!
In a system of cool and nice improved approach
Where such matter isn't good on paper encroached in a stylistic poach 

Keep off the worries and rain praises for breath 
Wait not until you approach the thin line of death 

Let your eyes be off
Have mercy on us, father
We are still mortal

All reason is tuned to our divining rods
Searching for water, searching for the cardinal bold cheers
Beneath our ribs flipping its bird truth at the shrine of gods
That quickly quality is developed in few years 
Heart mirrors between sticking it out, or cutting bait
Yet played tunes to dance bridging links to heavenly gate 

Our cracked spines are chapped palms
Openly pocked beeping bibles praying profanely in psalms 

Fill our hearts with laugh
Let mercy cast off bother
Dear Being- immortal

Sparkling dissonance in our key
Is the fading seven-hallelujah chorus, we hallow, 
As we learn the liturgy of our respiration to a degree
Only keep us, brethrens of doctrine alone to follow
Like we bribe VAR over the decisions of the Referee up high
Where everyone tells his secret stories without shy

Young and old giving thanks to God for works done offline
Yearning gloriously His greatness yet, hearts are not align 

Let your eyes be off
Have mercy on us, father
We are still mortal

Stretch our necks over for the sweetest berries
Come Lord and take us out of the long rut way through the woody woods
Only to look at ourselves square-wise, reasoning varies
Rip thou blind-wild eye to wild eye wise in our hoods 
To a open ground mortals morals are bound
That our fitness features in higher ground be found 

Lips, my lips, run the trash talks no more
Through rain and dew, His love is pure to the core 

Fill our hearts with laugh
Let mercy cast off bother
Dear Being- immortal

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