What Can I Call This?

At the Tee –Junction of decision,
the spot where ogun’s meal
and the acolytes’ feet mix
I saw a street like an arrow
and a dream of sparrows and eggs
covered with red cam wood
and the richest yellow palm oil
dripping and clinging to Ogun’s soil
In the distance I heard a call
sounding like the voice that foiled
Dimka’s coup
This is a scared moment
When nothing should move
Not even the rustling leaves
It is a moment when gods in trees
and trees like gods transform the present
into dreams and the past into a gift
for the memory….
We give no cut to publishers to paste
wordy immemorial.
In our hearts and on our minds
these rituals are printed.
Can we ever forget the army of change agents
who are now numbers swollen in the ankle
of our earth?
Who can forget the gallons of blood
that watered deformed democratic plants?
To the distance, with my raw voice
I blessed the winds from the North
And for the East reached for invocations
of rising sun and warrior sons
The waters of the West are calm
but I still need the last psalm
that fights against those after my lamp
There is nothing to mend in the festering South
Those who drill and those who kill
have joined forces at this tee-junction
of indecision.
They have drilled our land to silly
They have killed our eyes and winners of bread
The street once like an arrow will bend
as they return from the earth that gave them bed

© Kole Ade Odutola   May 11, 2007

Beggar’s Day (Beggars dey!)

At the national beggar’s day
The president of beggars and cripples
read a wonderful speech
which moved the hall from tears
“Last year our numbers increased
and so the collective income decreased
none of our principal officers is deceased
The Vice-president cured one of his diseases
when the visiting pastor released
blessings in a different tongue
A new lease of begging life
is now his as bliss is recovered
and ‘bilisi’ is re-covered.
Life must go on
for the exploiters and the exploited
We know the ‘looting fools’ are re-born
at our expense, when pennies
develop wings and currencies
find new pockets to fill.
It is no longer a dream
that bigger better beggars are born
and are burning with zeal
on roads suffering from tar
but blessed with fresh and old pot holes
that slow down fast moving cars
in readiness for bowls and cans
from which the folks get fed
in prevention of never-to happen revolt.”

© Kole Ade Odutola (May 10, 2007)