Treasure Island

Lambon Salifu Muhammeed

(08/01/1995 / Nalerigu)

Yourself


They that murder, rebuke the devil
They that rob or plunder, rebuke the devil
They that rape, rebuke the devil
They that fornicate, rebuke the devil
They that exploit, rebuke the devil
They that work prostitution, rebuke the devil
They that lie and gossip, rebuke the devil

Oh when will yourself you blame for your own wrongs?
Not the swarm of blames you give the devil baptise your evils with the liquid of virtue
Remember when the devil makes you practice vice, his work is done
but is your work done when you do not virtue?
So equal yourself you scold for not dwelling in virtue
And tell me if when come the doomsday, the devil you will scold to escape the swallow of hell.

Submitted: Friday, November 15, 2013

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Yourself by Lambon Salifu Muhammeed )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Beauty, Brianna Kimball
  2. Seminars, Mark Heathcote
  3. Your Love, Lawrence S. Pertillar
  4. Im not her, Brianna Kimball
  5. LIKE AN EAGLE, Romeo Della Valle
  6. My eyes feel like cactus flowers, Jena Crowe
  7. No Escape From Hidden Love, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  8. My Demons, Brianna Kimball
  9. Multi-Tasker, douglas scotney
  10. Bottom Feeders, douglas scotney

Poem of the Day

poet Henry Lawson


The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought,
The cheque was spent that the shearer earned,
and the sheds were all cut out;
...... Read complete »

   

Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]