Rest In Jail - Poems by 'Lakunle Jaiyesimi
- By Lakunle Jaiyesimi
- Published June 4, 2007
- Poems
-
Rating:
Lakunle Jaiyesimi
'Lakunle Jaiyesimi is a Pharmacy student at the Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, Nigeria. He's also into poetry, drama, motion pictures and prose. He is the creative consultant to Eniolu Creations, a multimedia outfit involved in numerous artistic productions, located in lagos.
View all Entries by Lakunle JaiyesimiGod Fled In Air
We the natives
That rent our massive
Spot by the rive
rside
Hold our breath
Of God, whose length
Draws across the earth
And we
Say it is he
That turned our ri
ver to a ball of fire
with
just
a
stone
Death
Love
Has settled
Like a blossoming Rose
Smiling sour amidst thick thorns
To wither…
To wither…
Only to wither…
In this early spring
Frowning free amidst streaming tears
Never…
Never…
Never again…
To shed her warm shadow
At my flickering lips
And say “Good Night, Dear!”
If Only…
If only I were privileged
If only I were adorned with wings
To fly like the saintly angels
From beyond the tallest trees
Where no mortal ever reached
Except he be transformed
Into an untouchable
If only I had an opportunity
To handle the Wand of Kingdom Authority
I will pierce the hearts of Men
Rigid with greed
Puffed with pride
Messy with mischief
To free its venom of hate
If only I were chanced
I will beat hypocrisy out of piety
And render men pure as their core desires
Inflaming their sublime passions to the Creator
When best, worship is accepted
Without the inkling of doubt
And with no action of retreat
Mere Sac Of Sand
“Lakunle’, he called on me,
“Yes, Mentor,” I replied. He continued:
“You’re welcome back from the war-torn peaceland
“I can see your hand of fire
“Being kindled against the wall of Berlin
“And your face of water
“Ready to swallow whole the Pharaoh’s troop
“However, it is night – the night-crawler’s hour
“Let them have their spree, and we ours
“You, go to bed
“And lay your mere sac of sand to rest
“Only pray that the spirit put you to the wake
“When the Lalucha shall continue
The World
This façade of confusion
Is full of deception,
Like a curtain that allows only illusion
Death!
Yes! Death is the herald of truth
And harbinger of clear-sight
That will unveil the covering of this illusion
And truth shall stand in the scaffold of reality
Religion
I sit at the threshold of struggle
Expecting a sword of battle
To fight a good fight of faith
But a breeze of comfort
Blows my hairy and ornamented face
Drifting me into a callously overwhelming slumber