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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=430986" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sold Years</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In those acutely native-days; <br>when lioness where lion, and the birth of death; was rare. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Days; when people fainted in shock, and wept bitterly, when one says; they are now born again Christians. <br>Because they always thought the person was dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Days, when men worked and walked with overdosed ego. <br>People loved like there was no tomorrow, <br>and animals moved, with pampered elegance.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But tradition, cried with oversized echo; <br>for men, twisted the gods appetites, <br>and came up with malodorous ideas, which where not of the gods; but theirs.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This made the gods roar in their wooden-visions with wooden rages.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">People loved the gods so much; that they heed to all the unjust heavy duty rituals, assigned to them.<br>Just to appease the iron and wooden ego of the gods.<br> <br>They sobered endlessly; for they where helplessly buried with their kings, gods and chief-priests. <br>But they remained harmless, for they could not question or fight the gods.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Darkness fell on the smooth skin of the moon; and gave it heat-rash and chickenpox.<br>Because fathers; sold wives, kids, brothers and extended families.<br>While friends; sold friends, fathers, mothers and passerby.<br>And the chief-priest's; sold the gods.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The colour of our voices, and the strength of our culture; where the fire-lights, they used to tow us away, through the rainbow of pain, toad roads, and blood-bushes, which where blessed with odd faces and thirsty hasty white and black masquerades.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes! <br>It was Africa's blood, it took to grow and cleanse the anger of world.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O my Africa, <br>although, it runs on half blood and a tin of snuff. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But with pure affection; <br>it is still so elongated in wisdom, beauty and it wears high-heels, to exhibit how tall she really is; in simplicity and power.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=King+Femi+Oloidi">King Femi Oloidi</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=430986" data-title="Sold Years de King Femi Oloidi" data-description="In those acutely native-days; 
when lioness where lion, and the birth of death; was rare. 

Days; when people fainted in shock, and wept bitterly, when one says; they are now born again Christians. 
Because they always thought the person was dead...."></div>
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