Tripe Hairs Poem by Olorode Olorunleke

working roll, walking roll.
All in the street booming paaraan.
Just as the ass for triumphant it stood.
Never thought it to see the break of morrow.
Be it war nor peace there it rolls.
To the judicial notice of all.
There it stood till its glory wax.
The blindfolded veil shifts to her mouth.
How becoming the sword of peace, the cane of the
saints,
And scale know no fairness,
Yet, her talks are heartfelt.
Saying: come to me all you with heavy loads,
I will give you rest.
Prrraaaah! ! ! !
There my heart talks
Never try to walk in her ways son.
What are our sins for being against us, o company?
Solemnly my house echoes that my help lies in
nothing less than His blood.