Shango (Yoruba language: Ṣàngó, also known as Changó or Xangô in Latin America; and as Jakuta or Badé) is an Orisha, a deity in Yoruba religion. Genealogically speaking, Shango is a royal ancestor of the Yoruba as he was the third Alaafin of the Oyo Kingdom prior to his posthumous deitification. Shango has numerous manifestations, including Airá, Agodo, Afonja, Lubé, and Obomin. He is known for his powerful axe. He is considered to be one of the most powerful rulers that Yorubaland as ever produced.
Sango! The god of thunder. Fierce in mind and spirit. Man no one could inherit. If a lier swears in his name, Would get stuck to death.
Sango! The god of thunder. Brass crown on his head, Double axe in his hands, a symbol of dread.
Sango! The god of thunder. This eyes are burning fire His strength are in his words, just ease. A standing motto for justice.
Sango! The god of thunder. The heart of boiling gold of deed. He's the joy for for which the innocent are freed.
Sango! The god of thunder. Only the evil doers at night Face his merciless sight. The wicked during the day , Are left speechless on what to say.
Sango! The god of thunder. Cast them beatings of lightning and thunderstruck. There is no escape, for all evil is stuck. Sango of rights in equality, Dance to him in turns of virility.
Sing a song for me, my friend. A song that moves the soul to frenzy bend. A song of truth and tune of blues. Let me dance my best steps in the land of hues. The land against my feet, Play me a melodious beat.
Sing a song for me, my friend. A song of our rich history, we could never lend. Sing a song to me, my dear. Let others join this dance without fear. Use the talking drums and rocky xylophones. Let me dance to the tunes in my new agbada, in the beats of our own. Let chiefsmen sit and listen to the drumsmen's beats. Let the Kings and Queens, Elders and citizens, Sit to withness our rich culture. Let is remind them of what history truly means.
Euphoric Fantasy Coloured skys paint the milkyway Ushering darkness and forgetting light Drowning in sharp hues and dull greys Fly, higher than the Orion constellation Extend my wings above the floating whites Moonlight approaching with cool zephyr I exhale, breath the air that soothes and chokes My world a starry universe to gaze upon Half, full or quarter,silver brightness glows Brighter than the lightened street lamps I dance, under the glare of lamps amidst fireflies Twirling and floating, drifting towards a fate A fate unknown in the darkened alleys Sparked wires light the sky, electric sizzles None can hurt now, nor feel pain of loss Euphoria carries me on wings of fairy dust Glittering softness headed for paradise Call of the wind, voice of earth, breathing still Over the glowing shadows beckons fireworks Exploding lights lit the path to heaven's embrace Softly caressing bubbles of trapped smiles I release tense muscles and hidden fears Flowing high and low on purposeful waves My beloved heritage beckons,swift and true
The tool I use in writing is my pen of experiences and paper of emotions. It's my heritage— evidence of my history, a thing I inherited from my past and present self; ready to be handed as memories to my future self.