#WarOfWords2- Prepared For War by Prestige d WordSmith

This is the first entry for War Of Words Season 2. 
The poet in question entered for the Season 1 but he did not make the last 15 finalist.
Now he is back, 
and back with vengeance.
He does not look like he will be taking prisoners, 
cos now, 
he said we should be prepared for war.

Title of Poem: Prepared for War

Poet: Prestige d WordSmith

How can a man born 2000 years ago prepare for war without swords and spears?
How can a man born in our time prepare for war without guns and grenades?
How can a house-wife prepare for war without mortar and pestle?
How can a baby in the womb prepare for war without kicking and boxing?
And then I ask again,
How can a man prepare for war of words without the tongue and the brain?
Cos the tongue without the brain produces words that are meaningless 
and the brain without the tongue produces words that are voiceless. 
War of Words!
Animosity, brutality in World War 2
But I'll bring philosophy, reality in War of words 2
And if you say that I am powerless, 
I will take that as jocular
Cos I know that I am spectacular
"Practise what you preach", 
this saying is popular—but how come most of our leaders defile the same rules they set out to guide us and unite us.
And if I keep on complaining, 
I will end up exclaiming 
so I decided to battle in this war to be the change that I seek.
Seek and you shall find me in this war. 
Praaaaaaah!

Check out the video via the link below

#WarOfWords2- Prepared For War by Prestige d WordSmith

http://youtu.be/lHjs4cZa6Rw

MYTH OF MY CHILDHOOD (A Spoken Word Piece by Yommy Bishop)

There is a myth that was told since I was born

The myth that gladdens my heart when I was young

The myth of where I came from, and where I belong

The myth of our fathers

Of who takes over when they are gone

The fallacy that left us shattered

The truth that doesn't matter

The colors they painted with their palette

The path they treated as a scarlet.

When I was young father once told me to be strong

That one day to the top I belong

My teacher mantra me ‘leader of tomorrow’

Perhaps they said these to wipe away my sorrow.

But seems tomorrow never come

Or maybe I’m just forever young.

Though I can haul and urge them no more

No more can I endure to bear their brunt

Its dawn but the cocks still don’t crow

Ticking of time but our infants still don’t grow

Days roll into months, months into years

Our drumming rain turns lazy dew in the ears

While our waving sun changes to sleeping moon.

Our well is running dry, metamorphosed into a stony pit

Surrounded by dancing leafs

From the leafy branches of a sheltering tree

In the still of the night, our fathers stole away our right.

Rotating and revolving in selfish pride

They raped her and left the groom with no bride.

The rulers I know are still ruling

While tomorrows leader are trapped in their childhood myth looking.

The myth of my childhood

The myth that rips me off my manhood.

The Ecstasy that bind us

The love that blind us

Lying on my mother's chest

Sucking on my father's breast.

My lips on his hard on nipples

Excitement spread in like ripples.

Federal character a wailing abracadabra

A predicament sweet as venom, 

the treasure stolen in billion

We seek freedom from the rulers of this kingdom

They using us to rise to stardom, while our lives abandoned.

Sing it in their ears that again she’s in her period of Ovulation

Sing it all through the nation, 

on TV and every radio station

As we the youth are set on edge, for an un-ending Revolution.

By 

Yommy Bishop