 Title:'UNITY' /W.Col - Prayer Art by Rev.Bola A
'Unity Is Always Welcome Here'
In the beginning
We created 'Ibeji'.
And we said,
"Let there be Ibeji Poetry"
and there was Ibeji Poetry.
We saw that the
Ibeji Poetry was good,
Sent from above as
a gift for the healing of racism
And a happy racial harmony day.
Was it just an illusion?
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As with Ibeji,
Yet again
I found a split
Another split
There are too many splits
I have fallen to pieces.
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It's
One Ibeji for the Performer's pride
One Ibeji for the times we speak
One Ibeji gotta stay alive
One Ibeji.... I will survive
One Ibeji for the city streets
One Ibeji for the hip hop beats
One Ibeji oh I do believe
One Ibeji is all we need
Just One.
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Poetry by Rev.Bola A. (Ibeji Poet)
copyright: 21Jun12
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Title: 'OPTIMIST' /F.Oil - Prayer Art by Rev.Bola A
'The Optimist'
It’s amazing how well
Each day goes.
As clear as a bell.
It’s as if
The Universe knows
Who I am and what
I have to tell.
Like a special delivery,
By my favourite restaurant
South of the border;
Of the day's
Mouth watering order,
I receive what I want.
And like a giant
Magic genie,
All my wishes
Are granted freely.
Things flow to me
In a timely way.
I'm dancing with the
Universe every day.
Nothing in my life
Ever seems boring
I wake up every morning,
Anticipating what
Each new day is revealing.
And I'm infused with energy,
Joy and well-being.
I’m glad to be alive.
I'm glad to survive
I know I can’t change fate.
But, I can hardly wait,
To awaken in my body
And seize the day,
Without delay.
I love the joy
And unfolding of my life.
I'm not even coy'
I'd make the perfect wife.
I love the new surprises
That come my way,
In all shapes and sizes.
My ability to move
With them when
The need arises.
And the inspiration
Which bravely comes
By me, from distant drums.
I love knowing
Where I'm going.
Those familiar voices
Reminding me of
Those infinite choices,
To manifest my future
With the perfect picture.
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Wisdom Poetry by Rev.Bola A.
(Copyright: 12.5.12 -ARR)
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Title: 'Emanating'
Humbly,
I cradle love
And keep smiling
While the issue
Never ceases.
Whosoever hovers
In despair
Has but their own
Control to fear.
Reason has forbidden
Soon upon creation
My strongest emanation
To be easily spun and rare.
Like a flash
The future looks so bright
It seems the fire
That is my life
Continues to inspire
For the moon,
And to aspire
By weaving its own tune
Of miracles.
Back and forth
South to North
With rhythmic motions
It forms its notions
So the dancing never ends
East to West
It spins creation.
Attracting other friends.
Henceforth,
The most important thing
To recall when I am gone
Is the music that I sang.
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Poetry by Rev.Bola <IBEJI>
(copyright: 7.1.12 -ARR)
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__The disaster between us
Increasingly I have been able to find words
For the disaster between us
I have found ways
Of describing
What might have happened to us
And our minds and our souls
As they are conditioned
By the disaster
This grand and ugly disaster between us
With this enquiry
I have found others, many others
Who have previously given descriptions
And explanations
And complaints
About what precisely happened
And how and why whatever happened, happened
Between us
Whatever it was that led
To the disaster
And the division between us
Who and how many of us
May be to blame
For having done something
Disastrously wrong
Incomprehensibly wrong
The disaster
The slave trade
That’s what I mean
The transatlantic slave trade
Between us
Which divides us
And rules us
But if you enquire why
The rule of this law
Will fade away
To some extent
And whatever does not
Fade away Represents the work
That needs to be done.
© Ursula Troche, 2.2011<IBEJI>
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Peace and Love
Constant conversation
Continuing communication
On-going dialogue
The cadences of communion
For our unity, our union, our
State of desired harmony
State of desire:
Our desire is to aspire
To deep liberation
Cadence of consciousness
Deepest liberation
As deep as possible
As complete as possible
Completely Free and connected
To each of us
To the spirit of peace
And love
Peace And love forever.
© Ursula Troche, 2.2011<IBEJI>
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 Title: 'ANGEL MICHAEL' /C.Penc (from Set) by Rev.Bola
_'DREAMS'
Dreams swell
nurturing through the night
as do they now
Crescent moons smiling down
while women wear masks of
snuffed out candle wax
and smoky spirals.
Domino people
in black and white, parade
the shell of cracked vinyl
hidden faces against the wind
asking to be taught to kiss.
to laugh to cry; as they
ponder why?
It makes no difference
if its sweet or hot
or melting to a murky brown
or fascinating silvery blue.
Warm streams of light
as balled up fists
reflect the night
A thousand screams,
a thousand pains,
listlessly plotting cause
to strike a match,
in acrid air, acrid rain
For deep within, rage is fear.
Oblivion pervades
the shadows of each
And a microwave pings
the destiny bowl's
first outpourings
Kicking legs up in the air
out to lunch, out to flight
on lonely night.
Getting an itch for life
feeling my toes dancing
to a longer winter
woodland rain invigorating me
I pucker up and bluff more craven
I’m right, you’re right, no need to fight!
just seeking inner sight
and souls that reveal
how lucky we are
to be here, now.
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Poetry and Artwork by Rev.Bola A <IBEJI>
(copyright: 1Dec11 - ARR)
---------------------------------------------------------------  Title: 'DREAMS' 75 /Mix (From Set) by Rev.Bola
'Weeping Memories'
With the dying of time poets echo,
In the streets of discord memories weep,
Under the cover of the mind the soul doth speak,
In the stillness of harmony where memories leap.
In the moonless dark, the old ones seek,
Dis- establishment of guilt to defend the weak
Yet nought, was so valuable, throughout
As the cool-aid stains, which never came out
Or the hope, they could somehow, hide their doubt
Of green paper things, they've had their fill
My pocket and yours, adds much to the till
We like it or not, must contribute our share
To shaking that snow, right out of our hair
Like the object, of any desire
Let the blistering smoke inspire
Unlike the knife, that loves to cut
It won't make a puncture, in your gut
This web-like lust, would be no crime
Were it, but a mote, in the eye of time
Like Latin, is language, but passed away
With magic, the words, all gone astray
Where to, for what, to find one day
Whether Wallet, Mallet, Mallard,
Or Walloon, Balloon, Bollard?
Life's ghastly problems, can be stubborn and hard
As the tide of time, flows relentlessly onward
Bronze face reveals little, of the one within
Who sits alone with, green recycle bin
Quietly brewing, an escape from sin
Mouth wide open, singing and sipping
As notes hit the ceiling, bloody and dripping
'With the dying of time, poets echo,
In the streets of discord, memories weep,
Under the cover of the mind, the soul doth speak,
In the stillness of harmony where memories leap.'
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Poetry by Rev.Bola A. <IBEJI>
(copyright: 9.12.11 -ARR)
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