Studied Mass Communication at The Polytechnic, in the resplendence of his opulence
he bursts into a rapture of tongues
similitude of esoteric cant
rupee ruble riyal rupiah renminbi...
ONCE UPON A KISS I
in the dim and distant past four fledgling lips
at a tryst assuaging their thirst
searing sentimental secrets felt only
through dark tunnels of their throats
in the dim and distant past through
darksome tunnel of the throat we
shared unspoken secrets
you and i
four fledgling lips
i couldn’t go further
that’s why you called me names
forgetting
trust made in lust will rust in dust
once upon your kiss
and you set my flesh on fire
does love behave indecently?
ONCE UPON A KISS II
once upon a time there was your shadow
reflecting on the window
in the candle-lit room
with your neck-crushing embrace enveloping me
for moments i stood motionless
and began to dance to your love-wantintin tune
that sounds deeper and bitter
now in my soul
if promises were deeds you’d be dean of lovers
you and i know better
what has happened to my door?
what has happened to my yard?
what has happened to those innocent flowers
you touched and trampled?
once upon a time i was in your bosom
with iridescent blue eyes envisioning love
in your lust i was lost.
TEARS
time hurts when we wait
expecting you’ll be here with the
wind’s whisper
tears teardrops tears drop and never stop
as the heat of longing harasses our
psyche of persecuted passion
fractures of fragile feeling in faded
face of forlorn future
shrunken silence of unsung tragedies
time heals when it’s past
eternal future suddenly made present
just the marks of time left as reminders
in empty space of filled minds
tears teardrops tears drop and never stop
hurting healer when shall these tears
be in your skin-bottle?
TONGUE OF CURRENCY
in the resplendence of his opulence
he bursts into a rapture of tongues
similitude of esoteric cant
rupee ruble riyal rupiah renminbi
torrent of currencies cascading from the tip
of the money-twisted tongue and again
the tongue turns in foreign torrent of tongues of currencies
peso peseta dinar drachma lira franc deutschmark
yen dollar pound-sterling cedi
he pauses as his greedy ogling eyes venture into space
relating vision of more currencies
won krone guilder shekel
a rapture of spittle he tries to stifle
a man who had all in palatial places
but speaking in state asylum
as he chirps aha aha he ends his pecuniary cant
in naira and kobo.
‘CHRISTMAS GIFT’
after eighteen moons in nuptial chamber
God wrung this Oluwaseyi
a bouncing baby boy bundle of bliss
mama seyi thanked the Giver
harmattan degree fahrenheit
read the temperature in december
and seyi was down with hundred and one
so soon life was done in him
the terminator was implacable like the
sun that must go down...
women willingly wailed and men also cried
why me God? the mother asked
inconsolable woman
every good gift and perfect present
comes from above
may the Giver console you before next harmattan.
AMBASSADOR OF DEATH
it won't be once
and it won't be twice
you will always come to drink
from this fallen fountain of fleshy waters
the broken cistern of hades
palaces of red-light ladies
where secrets of shamefulness are shared
in the shadowy interior of
paradise of promiscuity
where potent seeds of pestilence
are sown and reaped and spread
and you go into hundred halls with harrowing
hordes of statistics preaching
the gospel of zipping up
apostle of death fouling salvation
with your soiled soul
how could we survive when you sleep with
our girls mothers and sisters?
CLAUSES IN CATACOMBS
dream waves lash against my uninspired head
gashes of bloody thoughts gush
fantasies of flowery fountains floundering in my fickleness
condiments of chaotic cadences cooking in my cauldron of collections
am i a poet or a writer?
with written words writhing in wrong wreaths
woven wishes in winsome words under wraps for world-weary women
singing sing-song serenade for soul-searching spinsters
and bachelors believing blooms blossom in blues
am i a poet or a writer?
setting up silly alliterative sentiments
who cares where when and what I wear
is it the toga of triumph or that of trepidation?
let me write and writhe and wriggle in wrong words
am i a poet or a writer?
cooking condiments of chaotic concoction
using a catalogue of comatose clauses in catacombs
as i intend to intensify the intensity of my intention
inter alia to interject and to intercede my interest in the interim
am i a poet or a writer?
GOD DID YOU SPEAK?
rebo-skere-mama
shibos-kilimama jili mama
eresh she sie yaya
rebos skeke sese...
ja jiri ja-ja
papa piri piri-papa
eli eli ja…
God did you speak?
BOBOLAIYEFA
i am Bobolaiyefa
begging bread on
with the bleating goats and barking dogs struggling with me
i am the common face unknown in the neighbourhood
the miasma that hangs around selfish lives
i am Bobolaiyefa
bending down below earth’s below to feed
on earth’s rottenness
what brought me here is not madness
it is you and my people’s mindlessness
i am Bobolaiyefa
who are you and who is your father?
have you heard wisdom out of insanity?
know not life’s travails yet you claim wisdom
who taught you its lessons?
i am Bobolaiyefa
enter my shoes and tell where they pinch
is everything inch by inch a cinch?
see your incurable madness around me
but how many of you think!
IN GOD’S MULTIVERSE
the drifting clouds and the blowing winds
the winged creatures on heavens pathways
inexplicable formation that took our breath
our eager eyes fixated on the heavenly
gyration
like the least infinitesimal thing
in God’s multiverse
we felt lost in the middle of somewhere
as our pupils widened in wonderment
God’s fingers wrought this miracle
the squalid quarters and the gushing gutters
the human race in hell’s dungeon
souls shackled in misery and insanity
grimy fingers repainting our walls
misshapen mouths opening old wounds
God
we watch your nature’s handiworks
we see purpose and definiteness
intrinsic order and undying love
we look and look but never move.
WHAT IF I SLEEP
what if i sleep
slumbering from ethereal space
to eternity and choose my portion
in the ben of dusty crevices unperturbed
by the cries and joys of mortal men
oblivious of what goes on where i
once occupied and become a condiment
in the kitchen of carnivorous worms
where continental dishes of cadaverous
foods are cooked and chewed
what if i sleep
and your wake-up call sounds so distant
dim and unheard and in the sea
of wails and tears and chest-beating
my hands drop hopelessly
as a final note of capitulation
will i live on in your heart?
BINTU
beloved bintu
permit me not to dawdle
here the screaming silence
has only me as an audience
shackled in this residence in who shall i place my confidence
when your much desired presence continues to linger in absence?
with whom will I share the fondness
a gale of togetherness pleasurable and immeasurable
in this screaming silence?
the dusk’s chill intense
my intent transcends concupiscence
loneliness is what attacks me with fierceness
in fairness i want you in earnest
beloved bintu emotion rushing high
your approach not nigh
and like a pestilence this screaming silence
is hitting hard against my faithfulness.
TELL ATISHA
tell atisha
tell her that the silence hurts
like a dead knife cutting through
the flesh
tell her that mother-hen does not
look on while her chicks go astray
tell atisha
tell her that she cannot cuddle
the tail of a cobra
for when an idol becomes too proud
it is shown to its face from which
wood it is carved
tell atisha
tell her that many moons may pass
but the past she left has no where
to go
we shall tell atisha
we shall tell her the words that have
eluded our tongues.
IN THE GLOOM
the genesis of an undergrowth
an offshoot out of the depth of darkness
the revelation of a nightly firmament
an implosion from the heart of the heavens
metamorphosis of meaning in space
lightning thunderclaps of storm
cumulus of clouds wind of sandstorm
fifth a whistle of hurried breeze
preparing the way for the sixth
a surge of deluge
helpless fragile bloom in the gloom
of an unsparing storm
a violent blow to the right
another to the left
a vicious shove forward
wicked one to the back
in the heat of the scorching storm
the bloom is bowed bent but not broken.
THE PRAYER
may the iceberg of realities
not shatter the ship of our dreams
may the frigid fingers of time
not tick against our magic moments
may the harsh hands of hunger
not stir our stomachs
may the fiery temptation of mammon
not lead us astray
may the ogling eyes of sex
not entice us into pits of paradise of promiscuity.
may the silent night
not empty us into the hands of hell
may the day dawn
not behind but before us.
BOULEVARD OF BROKEN DREAMS
my life is a boulevard
i am a piece of broken dreams
my life is a bough
i am a piece of shredded leaves
my life is a road
i am a crossroad of chaos
my life is a space
i am a void of evil thoughts
my life is a waste
i am a face of an unwanted child
my life is a test
i am a failure
my life is a root
i am a debris of broken dreams
my life is a shoot
i am rising against interred nightmares
TEXTURES OF DARKNESS
glimpses of foggy feelings
outlined in rough texture of darkness
cataclysmic sadness enshrouded
in sunken sockets
of eerie eyes in broken skull
my fears are my self
immortal thoughts bargaining an end
adult eyes immobiled
palatial places
mansions of men of wealth
laced with lush lawns and overwhelming walls
heading the way of high heavens
cocooned in silence of death
a paradise in prison
a prison in paradise
peopled by very important persons
their fabulous flowers forbid our faces
from seeing beyond that floundering
fantastic façade…
still we know
they bury their joy from envy
and their misery from mockery.
by painted devil
dilating pupils picturing a final closure
deathly sight of holes of hidden hearts
IN HEAVEN
there’s a rhythm to your love
the gathering cumulus strutting
to the clubhouse of enchantment
there’s a rhythm to your love
that thoughtful tongue that tunes in words
in light showers
that comely chill that clouds our multiverse
there’s a rhythm to your love
that sun that rises that shines
not in negation not in protest
a conflagrating contradiction
it is not
there’s a rhythm to your love
that irradiating fusion
that passion that pacifies our panicky persons
there’s a rhythm to your love
that you and only you can create
that creation of passion without deflection
there’s a rhythm to your love
that began and shows no beginning
that has not ended and shows an ending
that impels us beyond our leaning
there’s a rhythm to your love
the striking flashing frightening lightning
and the thunder that tongued in mellifluous voice
a love song compiled and produced in heaven.
my fears are my self
unshared soul divided by self
self-shut self-hidden self-sold
in dungeon of nothingness
in cold blood of sudden cessation
AND YOU LEAPT
…and you leapt
into the gaze of my popped out pupils
the eyeballs following you out of their sockets
in that rapturous jump
the leap in the floating fragile air
that wafer-thin air that stood between us
the aperture of my dilating widened eyes
catching in still-motion your effervescence
long dead in mournful wakeful moments
stilled not buried by death’s infamous claws
…and you leapt
amidst that sandstorm of shock
the cataclysmic clouds of crippledness
in that change
in that chain which became loose
in that slave who became free
those who had kept vigil while you
slumbered in wakefulness
those who had watched you with hopeless hopefulness
those who had taunted you as the changeling
that proves false the potency of the medicine-man
beheld that leap in open-teeth amazement
…and you leapt
capturing each move with my unblinking eyes
as you said with those enfeebled limbs
with those dying eyes warning me
till you breathe your last
never again would you leave my arms
you leapt into my agitated waiting arms
that sepulchral flesh i stretched before you
…and you leapt
out of an uncertain silence
into a certain cocoon of conclusiveness.
THE HUNTER
beneath the shadowy firmament
under the gloomy gaze of the globule sun
with rays like carelessly splattered water colours
on a delicate canvas
under a crooked tree with lacerated
bark begging for healing
having crown of leaves breathing their last
with roots contending with the stem
you sat sharing synthetic sentiments
i love you i love you
you are jagun
i am abeni
watching the gamboling gazelles
and the birds in flashy flight formation
and the woodpecker whining against the unyielding tree
i played with your tangled hair wondering when last
you had a cut
you laughed at my ignorance
and stroked my cheek in arrogance
telling me it was dreadlocks you were wearing
and you touched the cheek again
even more tenderly with your steely hand
my eyes shone as if stardust was poured in them
you are jagun
i am abeni
your eyes were looking impatient
and your body shaking like one high on hemp
your voice became deep and unheard
as you drew closer and closer still
i remained unmoved like one hemlocked
i looked into your eyes and shook my head
you are jagun
i am abeni
if you loved me you would wait
we can drink delight of this ecstasy when the time is ripe
you shook your head with your neck about falling out
you grabbed me and with a breath of fire
oozing out of your nose you said
it must be now
you are jagun
i am abeni
who decides for who?