All Are Arms In War
All stones are arms in war.
A day in my tutelage,
In my father's corn-field,
I stood as Oranyan's plinth;
I heard the lion roar:
Why are you a statue son?
“My sickle Sir, I stuttered”.
"Strike now and don't be still,
All stones are arms in war;
Strike and be somewhere son".
So with my goatee beard,
In the Land, my pot was denied,
Should I be still as another hay?
His voice came like echo's wave :
"Strike now and don't be still;
All stones are arms in war;
Strike and be somewhere son".
So I applied the brawl of age
And became the city roustabout.
But the Father’s kingdom came
When gourd was given a chance
To give an account of the pot.
Now the head relieves the brawl.
Knock, knock; who is there?
“The throne has a cachet for you”.
So I look in retrospect
And wish to tell you, my son:
Strike now and don't be still,
All stones are arms in war;
Strike and be somewhere son.
The royal will post the Laurel.
Copyright © Kayod5 Kayode | Year Posted 2019
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