ADDICTED, poem - GODSON OSARENREN poems | Best Poems

ADDICTED, poem - GODSON OSARENREN poems | Best Poems

MY BLACK GOLD, poem - GODSON OSARENREN poems | Best Poems

MY BLACK GOLD, poem - GODSON OSARENREN poems | Best Poems

A HUMBLE AFRICAN, poem - Godson Osarenren poems | Best Poems

A HUMBLE AFRICAN, poem - Godson Osarenren poems | Best Poems

COME HOME!!!

Come home to the land where you truly belong
Come back to your ancestral home
Forcefully you were taken away from your home land
Used and abused
And later of their evils they repented and called you family in a strange land
But how true are their good intentions?
Side by side you built a home
And lived among them like true families
But the difference is so clear
You are black, they are white
Envious of you because in you they found survival and revival, this they lack like the colour of your skin
Even when you are the president over them all
They still see you as an outcast and not a true resident
Hands up for the slightest
Gun shots, their game.
Come home to home land Africa
A land of no rejection
The land where you truly belong
Come home before they kill you all
Come home!

#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬
#‎GOAL‬ #‎FridaySpecial‬ #‎BlackRace‬ #‎AfricanAmericans‬ #‎UnitedBlackSociety‬ #‎Africans‬ #‎Blacks‬ #‎ComeHome‬ #‎ToAfricaYouBelongDontBeWrong‬ #‎Obama‬ #‎TigerWoods‬ #‎50Cent‬ #‎SerenaWilliams‬ #‎MichaelJordan‬ #‎BlacksAllOverTheWorld‬
#‎EastOrWestHomeIsBest‬

BOTH SIDES OF THE STORY.

The story is that both sides seek the same thing, 

Change with different names.

But how far is the top from the bottom?

The but from both sides stink like their butts

And on our faces a polluted smell of frustration.

In fact our case with hopes seems so hopeless 

And like the Indian women amidst young men, helpless!

After recovery from a psychological shock in the hands of a quack.

Let's hope again with our hearts in our mouths 

That this change from the makeup artist will beautify our facial looks;

Since the raining season is over.

#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬

#‎GOAL‬ #‎ThursdaySpecial‬ #‎Politics‬

#‎Nigeria‬

MY MUSIC

You are my music

Note by note you play

The keys to my heart 

In melodies symphony

With your voice singing 

I want every ear to hear

How good you sound

Softly we will I blues with you

Rock and Roll 

With fire under your feet I can tell you are my reggae

I love the charm in you as you jazz me all night long

And with my cap turned backwards for you

Fast will I rap and feel so fly with you my hip-hop

I love to pop for you while you break the dance for me

And with your backside shaking I can tell you love Africa the home of Juju

I hope to get high with you like Fela whose beat grows Afro

Never leave me alone my music

Your feeling to me is classic

Your hits with no pain I love to feel

How it heals my inside

If you should ever go away

Without killing me softly

Or to my ears drumming

I will surely die in pains 

With absolutely no gain

Play it all over again

And I will be feeling fine with you my music

#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬

#‎GOAL‬ #‎WednesdaySpecial‬ #‎Poetry‬

#‎Music‬

THE OBA OF BENIN.

The Oba of Benin is not just a mere shadow of the gods

But on him a crowned royalty, the ruler of the gods.

The Oba of Benin wakes up each day to the ritual of his ancestors;

A dance for Ogun, with blood spills and strong gin to wet the ground;

As this drives away every alien invasion.

And in the wisdom of the gods, an open cloud rains on him to reign.

Oba gha to kpere,

Ise!

In pride he rides 

Never alone

Daily accompanied by the Ada and Eben

The symbol of our ancestral dynasty.

The Ruler of Great Benin!

The Head of all spirits!

The proud one, the embodiment of wisdom!

The one with the whole world inside his palace!

In red or white, the ever beaded one!

The Omo N'Oba N'Edo Uku Akpolokpolor!

The Oba of the whole universe!

Please do a dance and we all shall dance the dance.

Specially dedicated to the Omo N'Oba N'Edo Uku Akpolokpolor, Oba Erediawa, The Oba Of The Great Benin Kingdom.

#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬

#‎GOAL‬ #‎TuesdaySpecial‬ #‎PayingHomage‬

#‎ObaOfBenin‬ #‎BeninCity‬ #‎EdoState‬ #‎Nigeria‬

I AM AN AFRICAN CHILD.

I am an African Child

Black to the bone, 

Well taught at home.

Wise with the idioms of my elders

Tell me, how can I fail or fall by the way side?

Strong willed and culturally bound for a journey, the challenges ahead.

I am an African Child

Of a warrior, my father

And of a strong woman, my mother

Tell me, how can I be weak?

My voice is key like the locks and must be heard by all; a resounding drum from the mountain top.

I am an African Child

Of modern days madness, a culturally nude!

Many call it technology but for so long, so wrong

It is 'Junks-No-Logic'! 

A lost African Child, who will find you?

I am an African Child

A hard-working child!

A conscious child!

Never again, will I throw-away with one what my fathers held with their two hands.

Of my colour will pride like the lions.

Never again, will I allow the sharks to swallow me across the oceans.

I am an African Child

I am a good child

Love me like a child even when I am old

And I will love you too.

#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬

#‎GOAL‬ #‎Trend‬ #‎AfricanChildDay‬

#‎UnitedNations‬ #‎ClarionCall‬ #‎Poetry‬

SOMEBODY STOP THEM!!!

Stop these so-called repented thieves and rapists, stealing in the name of the Lord.

Doctrines and the watering of the WORD!

What else is left of us; Ignorance!

My Fathers house of worship, a warship and a den of thieves!

A sermon to suit the case, the preacher's song; so he sings the song along the choir singing!

Political giggles, a time to mingle and dribble!

How our holy fathers seek for politicians as members and even make of them a Deacon!

Demons in white robes of 'saintlyhood',

Exalted above others, a god of man!

Speaking in practiced tongues of holy defilement.

O what lies most of them all tell in other tongues, the mystic tongues!

A holy matrimony of men unveiling men and with the scriptures, a union!

Who is true in the sight of the Most High?

Their endless claim is a call from HIM, 

But when I checked like we so see and talk less, 

All of the most were self-appointed, 

A way out of this untamed hunger!

Stage-managed miracles, holy ridicules!

Prophetic psychologist, practicing and perfecting!

Now Doctors in the act of mental juggling.

And we the cows, they milk and mislead through Jesus, the good shepherd.

If you CAN, STOP them!

I mean these hoodlums trading in arms and not giving alms.

Spelling doom and not giving room.

Sadly, we the people must sacrifice for their fancy cars and befitting homes while on our doors the daily knocks of Mr Landlord.

Sow and Reap, a command only noticed during offering time, Blessing time!

Big altars no fire!

Totally altered by the flowing wines from every mini-skirts 

And we the abused, no one dare to tell in holy reverence. 

Deliverance sessions; a dramatic session of push and fall

And we the people, a flock of their confused manipulations.

Do not give the devil a chance!

But from him they borrow charms, 

A bait for a large congregation where we all gather for a contaminated miracle.

Somebody STOP these so-called sons of repented native doctors

Who only foretell and foresee with a special offering 

But so classic and fashionable with a gentle walking step

While on our heads the problems of the nations, they will dump!

Money-invasion speakers, great 'Encouragers'!

School owners with great fees, we flee!

Jet fliers, the touch not!

Who trade in anointing oil

Holy water, Holy stickers

Handkerchiefs and other holy charms.

All is to further confuse us

All in the name of the Lord

Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen!

#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬

#‎GOAL‬ #‎ReligiousPoem‬ #‎SundaySpecial‬ 

#‎ReadYourBible‬ #‎EndTime‬ #‎BelieveInGod‬

#‎DontLetThemSchoolYou‬ #‎RelyOnTheHolySpirit‬

A MEAL FOR THEIR DARK god's.

We journeyed together to have a nice time together

Time after time, we talked about this place as we journeyed.

The journey was quite a long one;

One of a kind, with two of us as the odd one out! 

With the heat of the sun as our only worries,

So did we worry why the sun so shines!

The sun ray could hardly make us see,

As our eyes always twinkles like the restless eyeballs of the center referee.

Definitely, we had a dark shade on;

We looked like Steven Wonders.

Our skin colour; Our genetic cross!

This we carried everywhere we went along the ridicules that followed.

Since he creates as he chooses; 

We blamed no one but him for our looks.

How do we look?

Special and beautiful! 

So we cared less about their ever saying mouth since talk is cheap.

Through the difficult terrains we journeyed the long until

The sunset and the evening breezy!

And so did our joy until we finally arrived Tanzania.

On our arrival,

The waters we needed the most to wash over us

And that we did in the inn.

They saw us both, "The strangers in their town"

And with a light smile they welcomed.

Just like a dream; we screamed the most when the mare was most horrifying;

They took us into the bush after we were ambushed!

The only way they could identify us thereafter,

Was through our light skin which was already dismembered for their dark god's.

#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬

#‎GOAL‬ #‎Poetry‬ #‎Trend‬ #‎StopTheDiscriminationOfAlbinos‬ #‎June13worldAlbinoDay‬

#‎StopKillingAlbinosInTanzania‬ #‎UnitedNations‬

MY PRESIDENT.

I know of a man unlike other men.

One with a heart of giving and living

And all we wanted was his leading.

My President, Our President

We all voted with our thumbs down 

And all over the world it was noted.

But the Jack-Boots took over the polling boots.

And on our heads, they marched past with their boots thundering LEFT-RIGHT.

My President, Our President

Was thrown into the cage for his spoken word 

And was later served a cup of tea

Which he drank-drunk to see under the sea.

My President, Our President

The A-re-ona-kan-kanfo!

A true democrat with Kudirat his dearly beloved

Loved us all.

Who will ever be like him?

Who?

The democracy of our today and tomorrow

Will never be spoken of without him

In our hearts he remains resident as the man of the people, for the people and by the people.

Who will ever be like M.K.O?

My President, Our President 

#GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature

#GOAL #MKOAbiola #myPresident #June12

#Trend #Poetry #Nigeria

THE WATERSIDE.

The waterside is a large riverine coast.

First, with dead fishes fished by corporate driller's.

Then followed the restiveness of our young men spilling from their veins like the pipes down below.

Oh my waterside!

Can we ever find a savior?

The waterside is a banquet of wealth

But the hunger inside it goes round our necks like a bow-tie,

Often neglected by her son's, the sunshine of corruption.

Who is the blessed son, my son?

What the waterside truly wants, 

Is that from the waterside!

Not a chief of thieves!

Or a doctor that doctors all.

What the waterside truly wants 

Is a man that can walk on our waterside with excellence, The Peterside!

#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬

#‎GOAL‬ #‎ThursdaySpecial‬ #‎Poetry‬ 

#‎theWaterside‬ #‎Nigeria‬ #‎PoliticalPoem‬

JUANITA.

For your love to have and to hold

I swam through the Indian ocean from the nile whence I first saw you.

More than just once I prayed to Buddha in the temple of snakes to lead me to where you are,

And through this part I was led rightly.

Though my sight have I lost only to your beauty to see.

And through the busy markets and noisy streets of Bombay 

I search to find your face, your smile.

And when I find you and the way you do the things you do, 

I hope to love and hold you

Never to lose you again, forever mine,

The garden of my heart. 

#GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature

#GOAL #Poetry #LovePoem #WednesdaySpecial

THE TREES IN OPOBO.

On a speed boat

Speeding through the waters

Opobo I search to find

But with the trees far at sight

Big, reaching the sky

I cannot get lost.

The trees in Opobo

Were planted at the birth of a child.

The coconut, the mysterious tree of creation

Was also among the other several trees planted for every child at birth.

Gone are those days!

Gone are those days when men were boys climbing the tree height to see the ships sailing.

Gone are those days!

With everyone around doing the rounds as culture demands.

With everyone well fed from the trees and other herbs,

Life was good and home was best.

The trees are gone!

They grow old, fall down and die.

And all who were here have gone out to the west

To plant but not a tree.

#GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature

#GOAL #TuesdaySpecial #SocialPoem

#theTreesInOpobo #Poetry #RiversState #Nigeria

OLODUMARE.

What does the Ifa priest think of himself?

The great one that fell from the sky,

I laugh! 

He who makes eyes, makes nose

It is Olodumare, I will serve!

He who creates as he chooses

It is Olodumare, I will serve!

He who makes the rain fall in regular flow

It is Olodumare, I will serve!

He whose back never touches the ground

It is Olodumare, I will serve!

Olodumare, The Noble, The Immortal!

He who lives daily in gorgeous greatness.

He is so mighty that he cannot be lifted up.

Oba Mimo!

Immersed in white robes

He sleeps in white clothes

He wakes in white clothes

He rises in white robes.

O Death!

He will never die.

Korofo, the cult of the underground had earlier consulted the oracle about the death of Olodumare

But he declared openly that his death will never be heard of.

Olorun Ni kan Lo'gbon!

The stories of tomorrow which we waited so, so

With our hands on our cheek.

Olodumare with eyes like that of an eagle long saw, heard and kept quiet.

How long will you run?

How long will you hide?

A child whose ears are blocked with stubbornness 

Is not spared by Olodumare.

Even a mosquito that goes about spreading malaria 

Is not spared by Olodumare.

Oba da-ke da-jo!

Please pardon me my three sins.

I have in contemplation clothed in form of thee, who art formless.

In praise have I described thee ineffable

And in visiting thine temple I have ignored thine omnipresence.

Olodumare, the watchman whose eyeballs knows no sleep.

Fix your eyes on me and look at me very well.

It is when you fix your eyes upon a person that he becomes rich.

It is when you fix your eyes upon a person that he prospers.

Venerable Father!

Of whom no one can see and live.

Of whom no one has seen but fears.

It is Olodumare, I will serve! 

#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬

#‎GOAL‬ #‎SundaySpecial‬ #‎Poetry‬ 

#‎Olodumare‬ #‎theKingofGlory‬ #‎ReligiousPoem‬

Jun 7 at 2:21am · Public · in Timeline Photos

THOMAS FAULKNER.

When Thomas became president in 1893

He came in the company of the finest gents from sole to crown.

He made us believe he was

And we the people, his people

Sang the same songs so beautifully.

No more boy-boy!

No more iralu ura dika agu!

With the compass in his hand

He captained our ship through relentless tide.

Our economy for once was better that of the English

And I was proud to call myself a Nigerian.

But for death, such an unpleasant visitor who knocks at will,

Smiling and embracing warmly like my mother did when I was still a little boy.

He ate some apples and never woke

And we the people, his people

Mourned rejoicing.

#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬

#‎GOAL‬ #‎MondaySpecial‬ #‎PoliticalPoem‬ 

#‎Poetry‬ #‎thegeneralwhothecapfits‬

MERMAIDS IN THE WATER WORLD OF SIPPI.

Such rare beauties my eyes beheld

Sitting by the sandy shores of Sippi.

Slowly, these beauties glided through the waters 

Amidst other fishes that swim.

Above the waters that flow, 

They jumped out, one after the other showing off their beauties.

Then caught my eyes a beauty among these beauties unveiled.

Her beauty is so refined

It made me helpless and carefree.

The charm in her beauty

No juju priest can cure me or even say otherwise in abracadabra.

Her skin glitters like diamonds and even twinkles like the stars.

Her hair is so long, cool lovely braids swung from right to left.

Her waist line my eyes navigated without precision.

Hmm! She is so amazing.

For this beauty, my hands and feet froze like Moscow, 

Over-shadowing the brightness of the African sun that shines on me.

I became speechless, breathless and motionless.

Not even one word of admonishment could do,

Emphatically, her seductive looks said it all from A-Z.

With her hands in mine, I came alive again

Slowly we went into the dip...Kom-kom Below! Below!

The water world of Sippi, 

The throne of all beauties unveiled.

Helped me discover the new world under the sea.

Helplessly, I strayed in my gaze

As all the riches of the world were well displayed right here.

I was entertained by their composure and I went around in their company like I had gills.

A cracky-quacky sound, their language to connect, 

I was taught how and so did I flow like them.

I found out that we had the same DNA.

So, this lovely kisses we shared with no NFA.

In their warm embrace, I dwelt.

As each lady maid shared her sweetness.

This water world I once heard of; 

Of glory, beauty and true love.

I mean, the water world of Sippi.

And from their wine I took a sip

And so did I become a husband of them all

Never to return home again.

#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬

#‎GOAL‬ #‎poetry‬ #‎SaturdaySpecial‬ #‎lovepoem‬

MOTHER OF 36.

Out with a loud voice

She wails of her ordeals

Ravaged and rendered impotent

By bad children who sucked her dry 

Beyond her imaginations.

Hopes ceased! Peace crushed and flushed!

Out of her hiding's, she wails in resounding echoes

Help! Help! Help!

Out of her helplessness she laments.

I am plundered everyday

Without fear or favor.

Even in the abundance of water, I am so thirsty.

The frustrations in my smiles they hide

As I try so hard to make ends meet.

Sadly, I dare not visit the North without getting hurt

Back and forth, In and Out!

The story remains the same

Oh what a hullabaloo!

My children belong to themselves and not to me or my needs

Who will save me from these eternal vampires?

Which of my children will nurse my bleeding wounds?

Which of my children will put a smile on my wrinkled face?

Alas!

A frail voice shrills

Rebrand! Rebrand! Rebrand!

This land is green.

Against all odds, it begins with you.

#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬

#‎GOAL‬ #‎ThursdaySpecial‬ #‎politicalpoem‬

#‎nigeria‬

WERE WE BORN LIKE THEM?

In our settlements back home

We were so unsettled;

Driven by the harsh conditions of life, the school of hardknock!

Through the dangerous sea's and oceans

We survived the fight to survive

Seeing many drink up the ocean to get to yonder.

Finally, some peace and rest

With great hopes for the best

A new place to nest.

Were they ever born like us?

Armed to the teeth

Like dogs ready to bite

Pulling the trigger backwards

We were their game, their cockroach!

The ladies amongst us, their 'bedshit'

All of us worth nothing but shit, their waste!

In a world of our own

In a world they think they own

In a world of no boundaries.

#GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature

#GOAL #poetry #OneLandAllOverTheWorld

#noboundaries #helpRefugees #NoToSlavery #borderpatrols #UN

A COW CALLED SHEKAU.

Shekau is more or less a fool.

With his loony crew

Deadly tools

All we get is boom and doom.

Imagine the height of these fools,

For once we need not climb a stool

To see how much they've goofed.

Their emptiness forbids schools

And in the pools of our precious blood

They daily soak

Dredging and scooping with their evil spoon.

With smiles on their ugly faces

I can tell how cool and deadly they can be.

Low lives! Dan Banza!

Boom and doom

What else is left of us?

Cooking humans like food

Ravaging our hood

No roofs

Only the door way down South 

After several years of sojourn up North.

Too many poor, who will help us?

Fools looting our treasures for politics

Funding these hooey fanatics who in turn endlessly bomb us and hoose-gow our teenage girls.

Shekau the boor, your day of doom looms

And in my room will I groove

When I hear how the boots step on you and your crew, 

That for me, will be very good!

#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬

#‎GOAL‬ #‎poetry‬ #‎GoSoldiers‬ #‎NigerianArmy‬

#‎letsbringthatCowcalledShekaudown‬

THE AFRICAN FEVER.

I love the African fever

And of this I don't want my healing.

It flows in my veins

It rains down on me

Dripping, dropping until I am so cold.

Even when I catch a cold

The sun smiles down on me

To shake off every alien fever.

At crow up until the moon shows,

A taboo I dare not break

As the god's, in wisdom their ever saying mouth.

The African fever, my endless fever.

On her stretcher I daily find myself

As only her oxygen revives me time after time.

I can no longer hide the her in me and the me in her.

As we are forever one.

Her cry in my dreams is deeply heard

As all of my immortal being cries out MAMA!

And from her ebony breast I daily suck a higher fever; The Required Immune Conscious Syndrome.

I know my brothers outside the distant shores do miss, 

Her soup and her song

Her rights and her wrongs

Her rise and her fall

Her fall like the Victoria it falls

And for her rise the sun will stand.

The greenness of her green, Herbal!

The mountains, the valleys and the hills, Spiritual!

The people and the will, The Fever!

The rulers and their greed, The rebellion!

The hunger and the endless waste, Our Failure!

And on our skin the fever really shows,

And in our hearts the drum beats survival.

And with the drums rolling and rumbling in a resounding force

Another African child just caught the fever at birth.

#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬

#‎GOAL‬ #‎Africanfever‬ #‎AfricaInMyHeart‬

#‎poetry‬ #‎TuesdaySpecial‬ #‎Socialpoem‬

WHERE IS MY COUNTRY?

This is my country!

I can't seem to find any else where

After wishing others were mine

So on this little chair

I sit and stare

Right here.

Luggard's so called mistake in creation

Later became our glorious victory together as a nation.

For a hundred years counting, we've walked and trod through these lonely roads of few smiles,

Yet we smile;

Not because we ever had milk and honey for breakfast

But for our unity, our divides fall apart.

There is so much to our endless past,

First with the Queen and her greed; a direct order from the Bulky-Harm Palace.

Then followed the khaki boys with their feets thundering, LEFT-RIGHT in brutality.

Our greatness together no one should ever put asunder

Not even with the metal sticks or those green-aids; a gift from political and religious bandits.

Our cultures and rich traditions in so many faces they front,

Now all have come to see so clearly that

Our strength are in we the people

Our strength is in our voices singing together

Our strength is in our dancing together

And together we have seen our pride grow into fame like our name.

Though like a tortoise we plod

Yes, I see hope!

#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬

#‎GOAL‬ #‎Nigeria‬ #‎Nigerians‬ #‎thisismycountry‬ #‎proudlyGreenWhiteGreen‬

#‎politicalpoem‬ #‎MondaySpecial‬

I DON'T ENVY THE BLIND.

As blind as the world can be

And all with eyes think they can see

See, a sea of blind minds!

Really!

I don't envy the blind.

Shut out of things to see

Good or bad, all is well

But with a step down or two, 

I don't think so!

The blind I know, see through with the eyes of their senses.

But with eyes out; see the key, Focus!

With it a little light, a little sight, no fright; Ask Steven!

Fool no blind!

Or hide not behind them, the funny look!

I hope we all can see that we are all blind to know not the end from the beginning.

Really!

I don't envy the blind.

1st of June officially!

#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬

#‎GOAL‬ #‎June1st2015‬ #‎poetry‬ #‎StevenWonder‬

#‎idontenvytheblind‬

SOURDI ARABIA.

Sourdi Arabia, the beauty of gold and wealth untold! 

The harshness of your law is so raw, such an eye saw!

And this fright makes me so far from thy sight.

Your exciting tales of beauty I hear and fear.

Of silent pains, daily tears,

how no one seem to care but fear!

Of the whip, a meal for sins known.

Of a choiceless people whose law is king, so crowned in their hearts.

Of arms cut off!

Of beauty not appreciated in the young

damsels.

But of their men, the he-goat, 

the excuse is always marriage!

No holding of hands, my favorite romance!

No kissing, only hissing at this nonsense, this madness!

Sourdi Arabia!

Step Aside and let people be!

They’ve been trapped and wrapped up from head to toe for so long, too long!

The truth is hung far off and to speak is

wrong.

Who dare to speak?

I dare not preach.

I dare not reach Sourdi Arabia.

#GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature

#GOAL #Sundayspecial #religiouspoem

#poetry #saudiarabia #sourdiarabia #wow

#fos #asaplanet #seaview #cwan

YOU AND I.

You and I are not meant to be far from one another,

Like glue and blue we must!

Side by Side, You and I not You on I or I on You.

You, my heart drums for 72 times each minute;

And on I, You've showered much of this love like rain.

You and I have a long walk to freedom.

No boredom!

With kids coming, our throne, our kingdom!

You and I 

In God we trust

Till death we part

In love we fight

Like vine, like wine

Like twins we win

The hope is ours

With smiles we cheer

You and I

#GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature

#GOAL #saturdayspecial #lovepoem

#YouandI #poetry

GET TO WORK!!!

Don't talk again!

Do the said not with the lips

But with the brains 

That makes the hands and feet walk.

Work the work!

And drop the talk for which we all fell.

Results we seek for our sick economy,

Gasping for its last breathe.

Let it be said that the talk so graciously proclaimed worked so hard to save this dead from dying.

All must work!

To work!

#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬

#‎GOAL‬ #‎poetry‬ #‎change‬ #‎nigeria2015‬ #‎politics‬ #‎fct‬ #‎36statesofnigeria‬

3 hrs · Public

THE BROKEN CROSS.

A SYNOPSIS OF THE BROKEN CROSS.

The truth has been kept in the dark …. By a system that reigns and dictates the state of affairs…Lies have been fabricated to brutally replace the truth and these lies gained momentum.

The so called truth kept in the dark might as well be lie in all sense based on the proceedings that followed – who knows it all, know it not.

The Broken cross a fiction evocates a compelling drama on some of the famous armed robbery saga that ravaged the South Western part of Nigeria in the 1980’s. It features a sweeping panorama of the notorious armed robber 'Alanta’ and the conspiracy against the then Deputy Superintendent of Police (DSP) 'Godwin Iyare’. 

The book under covers why the cabal became volatile…. How their insatiable demands on then DSP ”Godwin Iyare” lost its savor and how their powers (the cabal) stretches the length of the Nile…. it also replays " Alanta’s” confession, “That there is no robbery without an informant”. Who dares to tell these hidden truth, bells the cat. 

There are new revelations….Trina and Osaro are in serious danger….

#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬

#‎GOAL‬ #‎TheBrokenCross‬ #‎myfirstnovel‬

#‎ProseDramaPoetry‬(PDP)

READ the Broken Cross in full, log on to www.truecrime.com.ng -Click the Icon for Crime Novel.

HAND-OVER!!!

The baton is quite heavy

But the relay must continue,

As this hand-over cannot be carried over.

Wake-up from this hang-over,

You political drunkards;

As your staggering days are over.

Cheers you want like hero's past:

You lied; as all we have as souvenir are vain hopes commissioned.

Hopes for a real change to come, we hope!

As you bluntly refuse to pay our wages hiding inside your luggages.

In rage the aged and the middle ages daily engage;

All locked up in your economic cage.

Debts piled up like the pyramids,

A throne of waste to be inherited.

Hand-Over!

You political witch doctors,

Who doctors all from that greedy shrine, the dooms den!

Our patience have finally reached the finish line

With the winners waving their flags.

From that noisy range-rover, hand-over!

Drop the baton!

No more marathon!

Game-Over!

#GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature

#GOAL #handover #nigeria #politics #poetry #gameover

SHE.

She is the sweetest girl I have ever met

She makes my heart melt, like water I felt.

She is the only one my sacred heart longs for but never ready was I to let her in, so she left.

She never really left me because on my right she stands.

She, my eyes sees even when I with the real she, Shh!

She, I have tried to kill and I finally did.

She is dead; only that her grave lies in my thoughts.

#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬

#‎GOAL‬ #‎poetry‬ #‎she‬ #‎cantgetenoughofshe

THE SHUT DOWN.

In my motherland

All went down, the shut down

Down!

Down!

Down to zero

Ah! We await our hero!

Oh! Let's hope so, Vero!

We had all working

Working in our favour

But when it was time to change-over

He brought the big switch down

Down!

A parting gift from our celebrated peace maker.

#GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature

#GOAL #poetry #shutdown #nigeria

THE MOLUE OF MY DREAMS.

You are the Molue of my dreams

Yellow, Big and Rusty!

You never stop for me to enter like a gentle man

So after you, I have run to get in.

When I finally enter,

I see many standing and quietly I take my place.

The few seated are so stacked together like sardine; I don't envy them at all.

Of sweat, noise and inhaled gases,

I am so exhausted!

With the traffic jam that followed, 

I wished I had wings.

In this frustration of being late you still harass me with a lousy conductor

Who is very bullish and fast to collect his money without missing any.

Names they called me when I screamed over a missing wallet;

Oloshi! Solo Makinde! J.J.C!

Wonder! I wandered in my thoughts, 

Lagos Na Wah!

Calling several Bus-Stops all at once,

I obviously forgot mine;

Lost was I till I finally woke up.

When I woke up, on the streets I walked

And found a new Lagos with no Molue at all.

Where did it go?

I want it back!

#molue #lagos #lasgidi #lagosians #nigerians #change #fashola

LE JEU DE MON COEUR.

My French poem: English translation below.

Poeme Francais:

LE JEU DE MON COEUR.

Tu es vraiment le jeu de mon coeur,

Tu fais venir les larmes de la joie

Et ca me plait beaucoup.

Le tambour de mon coeur!

Le repas de mon coeur!

Mon Soliel!

Je t'aime beaucoup comme les poemes que j'ecris chaque jour.

Pres de moi c'est la propre place.

Ne m'abandonne pas seule, Mon eau!

Ma Reine!

Ma Femme, Le Jeu!

English Version:

THE GAME OF MY HEART.

You are truly the game of my heart

You bring to eyes tears of joy

And this pleases me a whole lot.

The drum beat of my heart

The food to my soul

My sunshine!

I love you so much like the poem I write each day.

Next to me is your rightful place

Don't leave me alone, my water!

My Queen, My wife, the game!

#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬

#‎GOAL‬ #‎poetry‬ #‎lovepoem‬ #‎poesie‬ #‎amour‬ #‎jeu‬ #‎game‬

OLE IS OLE, CORRUPTION IS CORRUPTION!

English has always been the problem,

So with caution we must all learn before we speak!

The illiteracy of a crime is a crime itself.

However, the deaf has never been spoken to of danger; eyes see, eyes agree!

Ole is Ole!

Corruption is Corruption!

But the difference is not so far fetched, my learned friends!

They are both identitical twins, "Pain and Panic"!

Offsprings of a filthy heart.

The harm to others, plenty!

And as a nation, deadly!

It is no news that the pen is mightier than the gun!

And so, no words so sweet can out-run or make wrongs write so rightly. 

Even words as sweet as poetry cannot paint it right!

They are both 'dirtyly' identitical!

English has always been the problem,

So with caution we must all learn before we speak.

Ole is Corruption!

Corruption is Ole!

Can the dog ever claim righteousness over the pig?

The deaf has never been spoken to of danger; eyes see, eyes agree!

Eyes see so clearly that they are dangerous twins!

Please kill them both, tell Mary Slessor I said so!

#GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature

#GOAL #poetry #corruption #nigeria

#change

OBA OVONRAMWEN N'OGBAISI.

The father of Eweka II, Akenzua II and Erediawa the Great

Cola-nuts we break and strong gin wets the ground

At the mention of your name,

The Omo N'Oba N'edo Uku Akpolokpolo!

Undeniably, history registers your majestic reign up on till 1897

As you fought gallantly against the men without toes.

The defender of our land and our pride

Can royalty ever be in captivity?

When Oba Ovonramwen speaks.......

The Queen shivers in England for yet another loss.

You can't take my land

My ancestors dwell here

Go back to your lands and rule over yours.

In his letters, He wrote......

When Oba Ovonramwen, the Leopard sat on his throne

His countless and priceless beads they dragged off his neck

Oh! His moats could no longer swallow their boats.

So they took him away to be with the Effiong's.

Who will be our Oba?

Who will be like Oba Ovonramwen, 

whose back revealed the claws of untamed dogs,

Whose frowns never switched to smiles.

As his pride spoke tougher in chains 

And yet made it loud and clear in Calabar...

I am Oba Ovonramwen Nogbaisi

The ruler of great Benin 

The one who daily counts the seven steps in all rivers.

I AM......I AM.....Oba Ovonramwen N'Ogbaisi!

Dedicated to Oba Ovonramwen N'Ogbaisi, the ruler of Great Benin Kingdom.

#GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature

#GOAL #poetry #beninhistory

SWEET YESTERDAY

Casting my mind back to view those enriched moments

When your name was the only on my lips

When your name sounded so sweet to my ears

And your presence never to part always together.

Our voices were soft to one another

And our prayers not solo but in two we agreed for answers.

Hugs and handshakes were as strong as electric

And everyone died for our sake:

Come back sweet yesterday!

And to the smiles and laughters, come back!

Though times have seperated and our hearts like bile it taste;

Today is better but very empty without you, My Friend!

To all my friends of old

#‎comeback‬ #‎remembernotthesadtimesbutthegoodtimes‬

#‎sweetyesterday‬ #‎poetry‬

#‎GOAL‬

#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬

I AM POETRY.

I am poetry

I speak in so many languages from ages past to make anew. 

Constructively, I speak of so many hidden and open realities

That we all are blind, blind to see;

Of the ancient past,

Present, present,

And of our helpless untold future, I daily speak.

I am passionate and desperate

I am enduring, don't tempt me

I am a fierce fighter

Check out my punching lines

Ten men already down in the cold.

I am poetry

I paint with several colours of words

And sometimes get really messy.

I play with running juicy slippery lines

Catch me if you can!

I am bitter than bile, honey and deadly;

I am a thorn, I turn you on like my favorite dial.

I set the captives free and yet a prisoner of my own conscience.

My contradictions are your addictions

O what ecstasy!

I am poetry

The romance with my pen is more than that of the bedroom.

My seductive words lure many into my soft, silky, sleepy bed.

Ask my son David

He had a hot romance with me

Like the many strings of the harp he played.

I feed the thirsty and they thirst no more

I make many young wrinkle as though they are 80.

My lines strike your depth

And I swear the ocean floor is near.

I am poetry

I know I am tall like a tree

Call it madness

I cure madness

I make many drink of me to stupor

I make many dance, romance like it is their last chance

And others a thief I make of them

As they are always caught stealing over a million glance at my ever sunny face.

Wondering why the west came in?

My job is to make you identify your unidentified self.

Skillfully, will I help you eliminate the slavish opium mentality

Hidden behind the symbols of these several temples.

I am simple not complex

Smile to me and I will inspire you.

I am poetry

The ancient stone in every city wall

The streets call me rap

After I gave them one tie each to smoke.

In reggae I play but they call me blues fever.

The government is too heavy for my shoulders

So I let down with a little fever.

The people, my people are forever dear to my heart 

For their sake I pen it down

In lingering lines

Rhetorical rhymes

And in deeper stanza's the answer is clear.

I am poetry and legendary

And of my faithful friends that tell of me with great passion

I call POETS.

#‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬

#‎GOAL‬ #‎poetry‬ #‎poets‬ #‎mypassion‬

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GOOD BYE.

It is emotional,
When the time comes by
To say Good bye.
With the hand that waves,
Everyone sees it as the last that parts.
Good bye it is,
To the pleasures and treasures
To the vanity in every entity
To the arrogance and corruption
To the fears and tears
To love and hate
To this final date, the Late.
A little while is yet little
With memories of faded times.
It is emotional
When the time comes by
To say Good bye.
Good bye!

THE AFRICAN WOMAN.

The African woman is not an actor of strength.
She is the sole provider
The nurse of emotions
The mother of brave hearts
Firmly on her loyal chest a home is built.
She is the pleasure of the bed
The push when the stitch saves nine.
With or without the illiteracy from the classroom, she is an economist
And her breast milk she never economises for fashion.
She is the fashion, the ocassion for every celebration.
The African woman grows old with her man and thus wants no slash in the name of division.
What men so seek as the head,
In her head is a special love for her children and kindred.
Though housed by pots and fire,
She is a voice
One that must be sensed like the aroma from her soup.
Yes! She is my African Woman.

#poetry #africanwoman
#GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature
#GOAL

ODE ODUWA: The keeper Of The Path To The Shrine. (The Edo History Defined).

No one should write or rewrite our history wrongly with the hope to tell it as the truth.

The truth is that, about 2,000 years ago, we the Edo's nation who currently inhabit the South Western part of Nigeria migrated from Egypt due to the flood disaster that plagued the land at that time.

Ode Oduwa: the keeper of the path to the shrine; led us thus far through the spiritual guidance of our ancestors. Ode Oduwa and NOT Ododuwa as speculated, was the spiritual head of the Edo nation and he had a shrine on top of the hills were it was said that he communicated directly with the gods of his fathers.

When the Edo people finally settled in their current place (South Western Nigeria), the Benin's formed the Ogiso dynasty and it flourished with the reign of different Kings.

However, one of the Ogiso Kings had a problem with his son, the heir to the throne; the crowned Prince had to flee Benin in fear of his father, the King. After the death of the King, a replacement was needed to continue in his stead; so they sought for his son who they found (through spiritual guidance) around the Western part of modern day Nigeria.

Nevertheless, when the crowned Prince was found he was very old. He refused to come back home to take his rightful place as King; so he gave his son in his stead, who eventually came to rule over Benin.

Due to the complexity of the Benin traditional system (a complex religious practices) he found it difficult to rule; so he moved back to his initial base after he fathered a son in Benin that also continued in his stead.

Let be known that the Benin's practiced a polygamous system of marriage and they could not by any means be short of a male child as to go as far the Western part of Nigeria to borrow a son as King to rule (a food for thought).

The Ogiso dynasty which spanned over 200 years in the ancient Benin Kingdom had followed a primogeniture system even before the crowned Prince was born and it is still in practice till date.

The British who came into Nigeria at that time were misinformed and this misinformation, in recent past became the untrue history of the Edo's that was adopted into the national history.

We the Edo nation, we know who we are and we know where we are from.

Oba gha to kpere, Ise!

Thoughts and findings from PETER ENAHORO (Peter Pan), a veteran Nigerian Journalist who featured on the Nigerian Television Authourity (NTA), on a programme REFLECTIONS, Sunday, 17th May 2015; compiled by Godson Osarenren.

#GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature
#GOAL
#edohistory #nigeria #edostate

FOOT PRINTS.

Step by step

I try to walk

As I walk

Not by might or sight

I see his ways are not our ways

Of the coin, he wanted no taxes

Of the law, he chose love.

Strange steps! Difficult steps!

Step by step

I try to walk

As I walk

My thoughts aside

His foot prints my eyes search to see

Never to look back

Never to loose track

Always on his leading

Step by step.

#‎poetry‬ #‎GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature‬

#‎GOAL‬

ON THE WATCH!

Marriage is a bond for ages.

Hence, the freedom enjoyed in freetown; 

Is seriously on the watch after marriage.

#GodsonOsarenrensArtandLiterature #GOAL

CHICKENS IN THE CATHEDRAL.

The man died
And they said he was a good man,
So touched was I that I had to attend his funeral.
Inside the Cathedral-
The piano playing sonorously with several voices singing along.
From my eyes each little tears dropped;
The dark shade covered and the handkerchief helped too.
His wife, the woman with the most hugs,
Sat in front drowning in tears with her life saver no more.
And so did the women behind, with a chicken each.
It was time to pay the last respect
And so did everyone stand up with memories of this good man as they bowed.
The women with the chicken in hand recounted in tears as they took their turn.
It was said in this village that the women with the chicken were his concubines.
Finally, the unknown secrets of this good man was finally revealed at death;
As over forty chickens were recorded in the Cathedral.

#GodsonOsarenren'sArtandLiterature #GOAL

POETRY IN MANY TONGUES.

Poema Italiano: English and French translations below.

IL MIO POVERO PARERE.

Siamo appena in tire.

Che cosa viene appressor?

La sua azione e senza precedenti.

Ammininstrare la guistizia;

Egli prenne la mano della Duchessa.

Non mi presto all' inganno.

Si chiude una porta, se ne pre un altra.

Non mi prendo questo liberte.

Quand anche, se le pressa col appuntamento.

Ho una preghidera de farle.

Le prego di considerare.

Preparati o fai tardi!

English Translation:

MY HUMBLE OPINION.

We are only three people.

Who comes next?

His action is without precedent.

To administer justice;

He presses the Duchess's hand.

I will not consent to this fraud.

One opportunity is lost but another present itself.

I will not take this liberty;

Even though, he puts the blame on the timing.

I have a request to make to you.

I beg you to consider.

Get ready or you will be late!

French Translation:

A MON PAUVRE AVIS.

Nous sommes trois seulement.

Qui vient la prochaine?

Son action se passe sans precedent.

Pour administerer la justice;

Il essaye de presser la main de la Duchesse.

Je ne consentirai pas a cette fraude.

Si une porte ferme mais un autre se presenter.

Je ne prendrai pas cette liberte;

Malgre, il rejete la responsibilite sur le temps.

Je vous en prie.

Il faut que me considerer.

Il faut preparer ou tu seras tard!

#poetry #poesie #poema #italiano #francais #english

HER DEPARTURE!

She left all

Not because she wanted

But she had to pay homage to the lender who borrows.

With her breathe cut short

No feelings! 

As all relationships became as cold as her feet.

From a mirror, her name was called trice

And she appeared to tell;

Her spirit refused to rest,

A lot of 'Ogume' was done to appease her restless soul, The drama of the afterlife. 

And as she departed 

So did her man move on with another. 

#poetry

THE MATRIMONY AGAINST ME.

We said it! 

That Bisi cannot stay in a man's house. 

She brags and nags and wears a man to tear.

And Haruna her husband will never let go; 

He cares less about how to manage the problematic emotions of a lady.

He is very vindictive with his spikes that lobs.

With the rings that bind, 

My beauty faded with the cheer of the newly wedded.

Anyways, CongRAToolateShun O!

It is less than a month into the said marital bliss

All we hear are hisses,  

Over the skin colour of their unborn,

Which they choose differently not agreeing to one.

Who ever said marriage was a bed of roses!

Let's wish them all the best as we hope for the worst.

Since both of them own a house and not a home.

 

#nigeria #politics #poetry

THE DAY I WAS BORN.

A shout was heard, 

My first kick to let me out.

A sign it was; that I was ready to be a man.

I kicked again till I got the water broke.

Shouts and screams, I heard again and again, 

As I tried so hard to take in my first air.

The first it was, so I cried. 

But with milk I became meek.

Brubudu! Brubudu!

My late grandmother, Iye no'khua!

Rang the bell to announce my arrival.

The gods heard and came among men

So many were well fed for my sake,

And so did they give their visions to the seeker.

With milk never an inch away

I slept off listening to my mother, my first poet.

And so did the stories of the future come with the responsibility to always fight.

But when will I win: in tears I continued my cry.  

#poetry

MAN OF SORROW.

Man of sorrow
Look through the window
There is a brighter tomorrow
Even though the harshness of life gets to the marrow
Tomorrows joy always wipes out today's sorrow.
Though the forces may hover and rover like a sparrow
And even tomorrow seems so impossible.
Look through the window
There is a brighter tomorrow
Man of sorrow.

#keephopealive #joylikeariver #itiswell

FROM THE HORSES MOUTH.

I want to hear the truth

From the root whence it grew.

I want to hear it all 

From its genesis to this revelation; 

Of it from A to Z, my ears want to hear:

And only from the horses mouth,

The truth I need to know.

#thehorsesmouth #truth #theroot

BROS JAY.

Bros Jay, dem say your name bi like hammer

When dem take dey sama devil for head,

Gbim! Gbim!

Devil wan use me mob ground

I wan make you show

So dat levels go change.

I hear say you dey fly and strong pass Super-Man,

Bros Jay, I beg show!

I no want make tafia people carry me go!

I wan dey wit u, with your plenty o-yo-yo!

Omo see enjoinment!

Bros Jay, anytin dey hard u??

Tank you wel-wel!

I no say u go do am,

You bam!

#JesusChrist #BrosJay #Superman #NumberOne

LE SON DU MATIN.

Le son du matin
vient de la petite bouche
des oiseaux qui chantent
pres de ma fenetre.
Ils chantent
Chante!
Chante!
Jusque je me reveille.
Ils me reveillent chaque jour
sans manquer
tres tot du matin.
Maintenant je connais
la facon des oiseaux
comme je ne sais jamais.
Ils aiment des gens qui se porter comme eux.
Un coeur d'or,
Et ils m'en trouvent.

English Translation:

THE MORNING SOUND.

The morning sound
comes from the little mouths
of the birds that sings
close to my window.
They sing,
Sing!
Sing!
Till I rise.
They wake me up very early each day
without missing any.
Now I know for sure
the ways of the birds like never before.
They love people with like minds;
A heart of gold,
And they found it in me.

#poesie #poetry #francais #french #alliancefrancaise #lesondumatin #themorningsound

LA FLEUR.

La fleur, la belle.
Belle comme la poesie,
mon ami des siecles.

Je t'aime beaucoup
et nous sommes ensemble,
Le charme et le parfum.

Je ne te laisserai pas
comme un enfant sans mere
malgre le temps, j'ai l'eau.

Non, tu ne mouris pas
Tu vivrais
Comme il fait du soliel en Afrique.

Tu est vraiment la belle.
La beaute extraordinaire.
C'est l'heure de t'ecrire.

#poesie #poetry #french #francais #beaute #fleur

VIVRE LA VIE.

Vivre la vie!

Ne te tue pas!

Essaye de monter la cloture avec toute la force chaque jour.

Malgre les larmes qui tombent

La faim de la ventre

La maladie terminale

Et l'argent qu'on cherche toujours jusque la fin.

L'espoir ne meurt jamais, il vit encore!

Ne te tue pas!

Vivre la vie!

English Translation:

LIVE YOUR LIFE.

Live your life!

Don't take your life!

Make effort to climb through all the huddles with all thine might each day.

Despite the tears that falls

The hunger of the stomach

The terminal illness

And money always on our mind till our very end.

Hope never dies, it still has breathe.

Don't take your life!

Live your life!

#lifeisfun #notosuicide #lavieestbelle #netetuepas #english #french #alliancefrancaise

L'HOMME NOIR.

Ce n'est pas ta faute que tu es noir.
Fier de toi-meme!
Et ne se porte jamais comme le cochon,
Car tu es si propre.

Autour de toi, l'injustice crie;
Les oppressions chez les blancs et parmi les freres noirs.
Ne va t'en avec les cultures divers, reculer!
Car chez Mama il y a beaucoup a savoir.

N'oublie jamais ton identite noir!
C'est beau plus que les autres.
Dites aux enfants les contes de la lune.
Dites la pure verite de nos ancestres passe.
Dites-les que nous avons un grand village avec plein de chambres,
Pas plus loin d'ici,
Chez moi, le village d' Afrique!

English translation:

BLACK MAN

Blame not yourself because you are black.
Be proud of yourself!
And never you take yourself for a pig,
Because you are clean so clean.

All around you, the cry of injustice.
Oppressions by the whites and even fellow black brothers.
Don't flirt with other cultures, come back to your's!
For in one land Africa there is a lot to learn.

Don't forget your black identity.
It is far more beautiful than the rest.
Tell your children stories by moon light.
Tell the truth of our hero's past.
Tell them we have a big village with a lot of rooms,
It is not for far from here,
My home, one land Africa.

#afrique #africa #noir #black #hommenoir #blackman #french #francais #anglais #english #poetry #poesie

SHE IS GONE.

She is gone
Gone for a long journey
Abandoning all, even those she calls honey.
Stiff in attention she coldly salutes.
No comedian can make her smile to these sad faces she never wished a frown.
She is gone
No gong announced her readiness to leave
A little much longer we wished she would have been,
But she walked away with a winter jacket
Leaving her baby to grow
Never a suck from her
Never a mum to hold.

#life #she #gone #sad

I AM EARTH.

I am earth!

I am wealth!

Of man, my kind.

I am the keeper of his existence.

The base I am; I carry all your burden!

I house the whole world with no rents at all;

But man is so unkind to me.

He fights for what is not his,

And with their smoke, I daily choke!

I give more than I get:

I bet you, a thrust into my inner mind

You will find water, the water brook!

I am rich; in me you will find Africa and many other lands where my sand spreads.

I house the oceans and seas,

And they are fully aware never to over step their bounds.

I hide in my pouch diamonds and other precious stones;

A great throne underneath the feet of men.

How they see me as mere dust.

I feed the nations with my oil and my vegetations, a healer!

Indeed, I am the mother of the dust! 

On me lies the mountains, the rivers, the valleys, the plains and the hills;

The trees and the breeze I accommodate with ease.

And upon me the sun, the moon and the stars.

Though lightening strikes, thunder storm; I am unshaken, I am the earth!

Of me I shake and it quakes!

Of rain that falls, my drink!

Of eruptions, my anger spills!

And over the years I have lived and survived;

Many creatures come and go, I remain;

And on me you all walk motionless.

With man always as a gift inside a box;

I help rest his soul with the dust.

I am earth!

I am wealth!

Water me and I will help you grow!

UTALE- The meeting of two.

Kume-kpe! Kume-ja!

Was the sound I heard from my neigbours house.

Finima-ah! Ona-eh!

She screamed.

Mpiaka-si! Mpiaka-si!

Wait make I putu miliki-ah!

I heard again.

As African that I am!

I knew of this dangerous game they played;

It fires and wires and like this bolt, it screws.

It is without hurt but hot it bakes.

Akunpacha!

The battle of strength and sweat!

Were both parties never rest, until victory is assured.

Orishabia-ozo!

Chop 1! Chop 2!

Peke-fuel!

Ah Oseah!

#healing #fun

MAY DAY

It is may day today

And everyone is still wondering,

Could this be a celebration of a day?

Except for those who steal and seal

Or a good place so cool to work.

Who is celebrating?

Frustration wears a crown on the workers who toil all day

Early they rise

Nothing back at home

Not even rice!

Salaries are never paid on time

And those who have worked are dead

Because for their pensions they've waited in vain.

Sadly, so many workers want to work

But no work to do

And even when there is one to do,

You pay for it before you get the salary unknown 

Or even grace the beds of dogs before it is yours.

May day today!

I say "NO-DAY!

#may #mayday #nlc #ilo #un

THE RATS IN MY KITCHEN.

Rats always think of themselves as smart,

Smart they are though;

As their foolishness always fall for the traps I set.

They often take their time out to dig.

With their nose so cool to sniff,

They always locate the greener pastures,

A place to restore their soul.

The rats in my kitchen

Wants to be the cook!

Wants to eat the best!

All in their hiding.

But traces they always leave behind,

A gracious way to be noticed.

When the cat is away the rats indeed plays.

Outside, the cat patiently waits

because I don't like cat's either.

On the roof they hide, the rats way
The rat race!

Down from the roof, they climb

Cooking their favourite meal

Eating in bits as the case may be;

Making love to themselves

Giving birth to their kind.

Never to go out!

Always be mine till they die,

The rats in my kitchen!

NATIONAL HIGH FEVER.

Where should the blame start from;

Is it the head?

We all know the head is rotten without missing words.

With missing funds

Missing lands

Missing papers

All for their unborn.

What should be said of the head, headless!

How far is it from the bottom?

The bottom is worse of,

With everyone robbing one another even the blind.

Nothing is ever free; 

Even when it is said to be free,

A hand is stretched out in pride to accept a bribe

Or a delay plays an important role in the frustration already faced.

Perhaps, a lost opportunity if nothing is offered.

It is a sick feeling, a sick attitude!

And I wish we all could all have a quick recovery from this national high fever. 

#corruption #ole #nigeria #africa #world

BLACK IDENTIFIED.

Don't get fair to be noticed,

Being black is original!

With creams that make you smell like the dead;

Why kill yourself to be white?

Black is beautiful and full of life:

Of pride like the lions, we roar;

Why change it to nothing?

Though blackmailed

Blacklisted

And always in the black-maria as a black-sheep

We are still not worse than shit.

Changing from black to white never makes you white either.

We are a community of nations,

Of blood atone in the struggle.

We are a strong team, the undisputed!

The beautiful ones,

The black angels!

#blacks #africans #michaeljackson

AH! THE CAT HAS COME.

I was not told of the days when the rats ate all our food even inside the cooking pot; my eyes witnessed all!

They ate it all and we did nothing but kept our thumb.

Nothing could be done because the rats were;

They even bit beneath our feet and gently blew the breathe of fresh air. 

The rats in their wisdom knew the secret of digging:

And hiding was a gift inherent.

How to recover all, we need the snakes!

So the snakes brought in the cat.

Ah! The cat has come with the snakes as friends.

Guess what's next?

TAKE ME TO CHURCH!

Take me to church!

So that before that glorious altar, my knees;

To alter all my wrongs for long.

My mouth opens of sins untold,

Hands together

With teary eyes please don't scold.

Take me to church!

So that all the demons ni nu aye mi can cast out fast at last.

And my life like a snow, white wash!

Feed me more, the bread of life

And of you make me a glutton like Oliver.

Take me to church!

Where voices sing to thee on high, The Most High!

Of offerings, this token; accept and multiply with no slash,

O my provider!

Take me through the pages of your word

And through the mouth of your Prophet

Speak to the bleak in me to see.

Holy! Holy is your name, heaven and earth are before thee.

Searching for fun but still can't find any

Take me to church!

DEZIANI.

She can't get a slap on her wrist
Because her beauty is so defined
And her speeches, so refined.
How every man wants her to be thine
But wishes are never horses.
Her name is Deziani
And I love to call her name a thousand times.
Even if she stole let her go home whole
Like the woman Jesus saved from the stones.
I don't want to see her cry
That will make her beauty die.
Soft is this spot for her
That even the law sees the beauty in her eyes.

#deziani #nigeria #corruption #buhari #law #beauty

W O R D S.

Words, how sweet they sound

Playing in strings of blues

For it many shiver and quiver:

Hmm! See the strong go so soft for it;

Ah! I can't believe it!

The fox claim to be cunning

But words have proved the fox wrong with the tongue that speaks.

How words stammers not in doubt, No Thomas!

Hold your temper!

Like the clouds hold it ceaseless rains

Because only words can make you loose your mind

Or did you claim to be normal?

Words, how sweet they sound

Gentle, nothing else could ever do

It is a higher fun than Disney land.

How we use it everyday in the languages of men to mend and fence!

A healer words claim to be;

With several patients reviving the death of hope.

How it goes beyond the letters to create a being!

We are the spoken word!

Of it we are spoken of;

When I checked again how it plays,

It is a rough play used to burn down that market that still burns today.

How this man, that man, all men are known for it;

A lamp, A stamp! It could even be damp!

Can't just get enough of it with an open ear!

NEVER HELP A SLAVE GAIN FREEDOM!!!

South Africans should be ashamed of themselves. First, they were bullied in their own land and further relegated to a slum by the Whites, (The Apartheid Regime). The whole world cried out against this oppression which they still suffer till date; only a caricature hand over was done to Nelson Mandela but the world knows that the Black South Africans still do not have a say in their so called Republic. The beauty in that land is as a result of an oppressed marriage, that educated their naked women on the need for clothes. Finally, the humilated-oppressed (the black South Africans), now seek the blood of fellow Blacks and Freeborn, who once fought for their rights, when they had none but tears.

#shame #shameonsouthafricans #zuluking #mandela #xenophobic #racism #nigeria #cnn #amanpour

FOR ABA ROAD.

Ha ba Oga!
Why u do me like this?
I help u dis ur enemies;
Even help you arrest and rest many down to 6.
And anytime I see u,
Na so me and my boys dey stand like pole till u go.
Ha ba Oga!
Na wetin u ask wen I never do?
Transfer! I dey transfer dem far-far!
Arrange tins! I nor dey fail at all, at all;
U kw say shit nor dey beg to smell;
As u shit na so we dey pack am, sharp-sharp before dem smell am!
Now u wan make I smell out like shit wen den don flush
Shey na shit I go dey chop?
After I don kill one man for Aba road becos of u.
U say u no wan use eye see me again.
Ha ba Oga!

#ogaatthetop #obey #now

FELA.

Fela is the definition of Black struggle undefined

The metaphor of a prodigal; A Superstar!

Culturally expressive in his mother tongue, the music in his song.

Impressive in the art of music, his inner beat grows Afro.

His girls, the ileke of aye; Shake am! Shake am! Shake am! Shake am! Shake am!!

To the music of the underground spiritual game. 

The Egypt 80s, the melody, the harmony, the root; the root cannot be uprooted because the root is Fela.

Baba 70, the hard truth, Spoken!

Of our daily political menstruation, no tampons.

How the seeds of our past sins still germinates in our leaders of today!

How the prophet of Orisha saw the unbelief of our illiteracy and societal ignorance!

Speaking, he spoke, speaking out the looming problems in its endless profile defiled.

Who cares to listen shall so see the reality of the now!

Abami eda!

Basket mouth!

Water truly has no enemy!

The sax of Baba is still blowing sounds that fights the cancerous corruption, inflation and mental confusion.

Fela, the son of the elites but who are those beneath, in the music of his songs we search and so find.

The sax blowing seek the unknown soldiers who invaded Kalakuta; his ancestral shrine,

Home to Obatala, Home to all.

His sax exposed the nudity of perfect thieves in the light of their perfections.

Then, the jails locked up on him more and more,

So did the koboko a print on his yansh.

But inside Omo Iya Aje is a freedom expressed, a victory assured.

Prison Break, Fela is free!

The scent of the wisdom grass from Kalakuta INHALE,

This Afro music from the imperfect-perfecter!

The underground spiritual game;

The mind of Fela, King of Kalakuta!

Highly, highly spiritual!

NUFF RESPECT TO THE ABAMI EDA!

Fela Anikulapo Kuti.

IN A MAN'S HEAD.

In a man's head
Are many baggages
On his head he carries through the load of life unto death
His will, the strength of his flesh.
His beliefs; the only promise for a new dawn.

In a man's head
The load is so heavy, ever adding!
No help could ever help as the trouble is always shooting.
When I asked why!
They said from the bite he had,
A gift from a woman.

#nowomannocry #life #poetry

THE SMELL OF TROUBLE.

The smell of trouble
Never escapes the nose that noses
It is a bad smell from hell
A smoke of fire that can raze down any building.
The smell of trouble
Is so strong like the wrong itself.
Can you smell it?

THE ART IN ME.

Hmm!
I cast my mind back to the days
When they chose our subjects
But the art in me had to object.
I never wanted to be a Science student
Because the chemistry between us was not as sweet as history
So in history classes I listened to the endless stories of the god's who bit the dogs to death without shedding blood.
Literature was good
I got emotionally soaked with the lyrics of the poems and the novels I studied.
How the encyclopedia was my friend and through its pages my eyes read.
Fine Art was lovely,
So I tried to draw in the art that later preferred to paint with these words so sweet, so poetic!
Oh LASMOCK!
Lasmock brought it out in me with the preps and silent hour;
On the field we sat and philosophized in silence till our ideas crossed.
My University days was awesome
And my style in the art was pretty handsome.
With the french sharing kissses
So sweet it was to say "je t'aime".
The art in the music I listened
My story, my glory!
The art that acts, Poetry!

#art #ilovemylife #poeticgodson

MY IMAGINATION.

My imagination always takes an helicopter view

Over a range of many options;

Picking all of the most in a flash

The most striking one, make or mar!

Yes it is the spirtual me!

With eyes in the physical.

It is the man of the past, living in the present and working in the future.

Yes, it sets me free and jails me at will.

Your prisoner I will forever be, my jailer!

MY KIND OF MAN.

I am not that kind of man that brings breakfast in bed

But that kind of man that makes poetry a prayer answered;

That kind of man who sits with, eats with poetry his bedsharer.

With sights and sounds, all in poetry bound

No frowns but in expressions when necessary, crown!

This injection I love to share with my seeds,

The home of poetry.

SHOW THY FACE.

Show thy face o lord

And look out for my face

Because in the face of the wicked are many smiles for my folly

And on my face a teary frown

Show thy face o lord

So that on my face, a smile I wear again. 

NO BOUNDARIES.

How blind can we be

when our skin is black

And like glue we can't steak?

We have no boundaries in Africa!

It is a white man's divide.

A selfish act that further breaks the cord that binds.

No boundaries or countries in one land Africa;

This beauty in our identity

Our fathers laboured in unity!

Sad, Bad and Mad is this divide among brothers

Who now lack what they have in abundance; hospitality!

This mentality is poor,

And on the floor their brain drains.

Great foolishness have been felt in the roots of the black soil

And their royal stools have fools as the tools for discord. 

Why did Mandela remain for so long a time in Robin Island?

Why kill and chase your brothers out of one land Africa, where we all belong?

#southafrica #nigeria #stopdiscrimination #onelove #wedontneednotrouble #unitednations #mandela #zulukings #jacobzuma #goodluckjonathan #humanrights #itiswrong #buhari #obama #noboundariesinafrica #weareafricans #onelandafrica

WHEN AGE STRIKES.

When age strikes
It wears a being to tear
Wrinkles of grey appears
Dimness; never the same.
How time flies each day
How age comes with rage.

SWEET FREEDOM.

Why win with the flood of blood?
When you can win with the thumb that prints.
The shout!
Is anyone out there still listening to that still voice that steals our silence?
Silence!
Silence cries out deep out of the deep.
Who will hear the cry of the just and not just scream, Justice!
When the courts are shut,
Where all matters are dressed.
What can the just do to the blind folds that sees the unjust, without striking?
Sweet freedom is bitter than bile,
Thorny and deadly.
And it is always served cold,
After so many warm flesh have fallen into the cold.
Sweet freedom is sweet, not to the oppressed with a broken bone but to the oppressor with a sledge hammer.
For others it is some fun
For others a new dawn
For others a time to be quiet
For others a time to relocate to the greens.
It is our cry, our time to be free!
We are the freeborn, with the freedom speech to teach.
We can't be hungry!
No! No! No! No!
Even if we are, we hope to be fed up with hunger.
Sweet is freedom, Martin said so!
Sweet is freedom only when the just is justified before the unjust whose heart is always bitter.
Tell the world I said so!

MY KNEES, MY PLEASE.

Lead me Lord Jesus, the good shepherd!
For, lost I don't want to be; an insane mind.
Lift me up with your abiding gifts
And like a rainbow, a colourful me.
The pains and rains of the wicked
Like nails pierces me so deep, I bleed!
Help me appear not once more in the camps of staggering laughters
And to their mirrors, a shattered glasses.
Load me with your beauties
Never fading with ages.
Teach me how to fish in deep waters
And in it let me drown in glorious affluence.
Answer me in the cancer of the wicked
And give me breathe in the years of my days.
Help me forgive all but not these two,
Poverty and Bitterness:
They have destroyed man and so his heart is not kind to all, not at all.
Give me your long hand, helping the needy carry on;
And like the birds, no boundaries to their flight,
My wings I spread like your kite.
These and many more, forget not to remember in your release.
So I pray, Amen.

WITH MY EYES ON THE HILLS.

Not so long time ago

I visited Jalingo from the heartbeat,

Through the big heart;

And then to the light of the nation, we continued through not in the dark!

For a while; to make some peace 

And so we did with our urine as we heat the Coal City.

The journey continued again,

Until we arrived at the food basket to eat;

With food in my mouth so I journeyed through into the nature's gift to the nation. 

Countless hills greeted me like I was the new Sairiki, 

Freshly green, were the vegetations housed by the several hills; 

Healing it brought into the atmosphere as everywhere was as cool as the breeze.

Climbing one of these great stones was like cooking beans, how it takes a long time to done!

With friends cheering me up in hausa

Up I go, Gongola!

Until I was finally up:

Up, I had a belle view of Jalingo.

The hills were as far as my eyes could see; exceeding the lots of Solomon!

So no mourn, So much fun!

See the sun set

See the wind talk

See the chill come

See the people, all!

All I still see! 

See with my eyes on the hills.

NYEM ARA BIKONU!

Nyem Ara bikonu!

I know say I bi adult:

But like your baby, I want to be!

Scratching my head to the sweetness as I draw from your straw;

I long for your Ara in tears

Because I am friendly not only in the sixth month

But in my adulthood I still beg in tears.

Nyem-Ara bikonu!

So I can stop behaving like mumu;

Take off the guard that hide those beauties inside;

In my hands I love to hold and fold

In my mouth I love to seize like the Customs,

And my head I love to scratch to the sweetness as I draw from your straw!

Nyem ara bikonu, oyi natum o!

I AM NOT A SILENT POET.

Mute!

Did you say quiet?

No, I don't think so!

I am not a silent poet

So do not think I will be quiet, 

That diet is obviously not for me but for those who quit!

Writing poetry is an oath to depth; 

To make you feel alright when all is not, 

My pen will riot and to the right it will write not.

Rightly I speak of the bitter truth and the witnesses within me agrees to what I write rightly.

I am not a silent poet

What kind of man will I be if I can't talk about what I see and hear.

Why am I here? 

To observe and keep silent?

No, not at all!

Speaking is leaking what the eyes sees, what the ears hear and then the silence breaks.

I am not a silent poet

Caution is a threat to the just, an auction of the only ice in our freezer. 

And the peace we so seek is never guaranteed but piss;

I speak with my beak bitter and sweet; that is poetry! 

Never always on anyone's side

Only writes when it is time to write

A glamour of divers beauty unveiled.

MAZI OKONWO.

Mazi Okonwo is a wrestler in the village of Umadike.

The size of hairy chest gave other men a fright;

And for his strength showing, every woman wanted his warm.

Mazi Okonwo has a fight today,

It is a big fight between Umadike and Ofon villages.

Music were made; the drums, the oja, the agogo, all gave their tunes

And that further set the tone for supremacy.

Four people served as referees

Two trainers and two just men from the two villages gave the rules of engagement.

In the middle were they surrounded by a large cheer from the villagers who watched closely and referred to Mazi Okonwo as a cat:

But Jatto, as the stubborn rat of Ofon.

The fight was a fierce fight 

As they both studied the mathematics of their every moves,

Every one was so busy; the referees with their restless eyeballs, the trainers with their mouths and lurking eyes and the teaming villagers cheering.

Palm wine never finished as all drank with no one missing any of the energetic moves. 

The fight continued until the moon was noon;

Still everyone was so busy in anticipation!

Mazi Okonwo finally as usual, with a great lift took Jatto off his feet and to the ground his back, a big defeat!

So everyone cheered their loudest!

Okonwo! Okonwo! Okonwo!

But when Mazi Okonwo was asked about his secret in several victories

He simply replied "meruru jedudu makuku"- meaning a weak man with a weak heart.

And so it became a story for the god's,

Who after burying their dead found their foot on top of the grave.

WHAT WILL OGUN EAT?

Ogun will not eat bread

Or that egg sauce garnished with carrot and green-peas.

Ogun will not eat that fruit salad buttered with cream

Or that pizza from the freezer;

That will obviously cause him jedi-jedi, a lover of the white bowl and not the bush.

Ogun is very angry o!

Because the food before him is not well pounded but stupidly spiced and smelling.

No palm oil to eat the roasted yam!

No palm wine to wet the hot iron, the staff of Ogun!

Ogun needs blood!

The blood Ogun needs is not only that of the ram's heart still pounding in the calabash of Ogun;

Ogun needs that of the leopard and the cheetah for a drink.

Ogun has began to dance, the dance of anger

Who can handle his wrath that wrought like a dancing fire.

Ogun needs dogoyaro in his ogogoro

No! Not that hopeless tea with milk and sugar inside.

Ogun is smiling!

Because his food inside the calabash is red.

Ogun is frowning

What has happened again this time?

He ate from the calabash, the plate of the god's,

Yam boiled with sugar!

Ah! Tufiakwa!

THE IJAWS HAVE NO JAWS

The Ijaws have no jaws because their jaws were lost in the battle of Mosanga.
Lost and snatched off their mouths;
How will they chew?
Their mouths that use to close no longer closes.
With eyes shot out!
Still it refuses to close because of the shock, it is electric!
Closed is this door at the Ijaws who suddenly have no jaws to chew.
The promised land we entered; promised all but gave nothing.
Do you know? Promises never pregnates a woman, it is a waste of words.
The Ijaws no longer have jaws to chew!
How will they find food in a drowning 'fishless' water?
How will they swim and not drown?

THE VALLEY.

I have past through many valleys

Many of which were the shadow of death

But a shadow it was

Following me

But it could not be me at heart

So it hid behind me

While his light daily shines on me. 

In this valley again

I need an angel! 

DEATH HARVESTERS.

Motionless dust!

And yet another breathe is cut short

With bullets piercing

The heart stops pounding;

It is politics

A polite selection of choice.

But these death harvesters wouldn't let it be;

From their big Oga

Arms are made for their arms:

And when you are the opposition

With bullets piercing

The heart stops pounding

Yet another breathe is cut short.

Motionless dust!

#riversstate #nigeria #politics

THE HONEYMOON.

My dear President,
The honeymoon you currently enjoy in the bedroom of hearts
Never last, ask the former!
It passes away when you don't take the issues of our heart to heart.
We the people love a daily romance to show
But it is so sad to note that we've been so raped, so caged in
Until we chose you, the thumb revolution!
Please lead us don't leave us
Hold our hands and help us stand.
Be the general of our hearts
Fighting all that is wrong.
The promise land we love to live in
Help us live in it
These and all we ask nothing less, Amen!

#buhari #nigeria #honeymoon #truth #amen

GOOD FRIDAY.

A child was born in a manger

A smart kid, he was;

As he grew, in knowledge he flew.

He even taught his elders some proverbs,

Everyone asked for his father, the carpenter;

Who marveled as well at his son.

With water turning into wine,

His crown as King of Kings and Lord of Lords he wore,

And it so fitted.

Fishes he caught without using a net,

Just spoken word like poetry

And soon everyone became fishers of men.

At age thirty three,

He was traded for a kiss

A kiss from a rose

And so he rose for our victory.

But before he rose and ascended

A tragic thing happened to this young man.

He was hung on the cross with two rugged bandits;

The scars of brutality

Who can treat? No nurse!

His blood painted many city streets

And soon it became a pool of flood.

He was so beaten

He was so weak

Helpless were his folks who watched him die.

The cock crowed thrice

How his dear friend feared to die so he lied!

Sadly, he was without a child of his own

Without a woman to hold;

He was so murdered in front of his mother.

Oh no! His wish for a long life was cut short.

So sad it was for a Friday,

But we call it Good Friday.

How?

CREATION

God is an artist better than Leonardo Da Vinci

He made different people, different reasoning

A bitter sweet mix he ever made

PAPA PEACE.

Though all who were once pissed like me
Have come to see the true peace in you.
You've shown peace not in silence
but before our eye lenses we've seen so clearly your peace
That special love for peace that worth no drop.

Nuff Respect PAPA PEACE.

MAMA PEACE.

I won't call you Patience

I will call you Mama Peace

With your mouth so full of shit and piss

Ah! We hiss;

Spoken word not poetry,

Only pieces of wasted grammar,

And the several kra-ka in Okrika!

No peace only a rest in peace!

Ah-ba Mama! Take it easy! 

Mama Peace I believe your weight

As you boss all and many your tampoons.

Oh! My commanding wife you have destroyed my life! 

Now I have shoes to waka from Abuja

Now it is time to go back to Otueke.

Chai! Chai!!

Diaris God O!

Diaris God O!!

Diaris God O!!!

JUDGMENT TIME

Bros, Ah! As u wan enter so
No mercy o!
No mercy for dem o
I know u well, well!
I no say u go flog dem for head, ear and even tongue.
Bros u bad, nai make us carry u come so;
I beg judge dem make dem begin to run like cheetah becos dem don cheat and shit on us
A beg come o!
We dey wait o!
The time go soon reach, na 10 O'clock.

#wearestillwaitingforthehighneckbus

THE AMANYANAGBO.

The Amanyanagbo is a star so high up there to behold

A dancer in royal waters

A big stool with a flowing regalia.

The Amanyanagbo is never looked once

Look at him

And you will look at him again.

AN ARMY OF THUGS.

An army of thugs marching and wired

Plug-in their anger into the socket of political thugs

Daily demonstrating a high level of shock to other thugs

For a fellow thug to be in power.

WHO IS FAIRER?

I hope it will be fair like Amina's skin
and not so dark
that no one can enter to see the beauty that lies.
Many feels Priye is fairer
because she is all our eyes have come to behold.
Wait to see Amina take off her dress
With this thumb
We shall all tell who is fairer.

MY COMMANDER.

Roger! Over!

Our mission is to stop the spills flowing into the rivers.

The rivers is under attack!

It is no longer a garden of roses,

It is now a garden of dead fishes.

Over! Yes Sir!

Copied!

The Governor is calling-

Wait a minute!

Do not mind that man,

He wants us to always dance to his idiotic feelings;

(with a nose up)-Your Excellency Sir:

Over! We are coming right away!

Roger! Over!

From Abuja, Gri-Gri!

Yesss!

Ok!

Okay!

Consider it done!

Attention Boys!

Remember, we are not trying to victimize anybody!

Roger! Over!

The Governor is calling again-

Please switch off that handset!

Even the Governor is fully aware of the plaguing network issues.

His Deputy is calling-

Answer him immediately!

Roger! Over!

Remember, we are not trying to victimize anybody!

THE TORTOISE.

When the tortoise says a pregnant woman will die in the market today.
Who will be blamed?
The tortoise!
The tortoise has committed a lot of crimes,
Most especially in brain washing others.
The tortoise is slow but he won the hare in a very long marathon.
He hides in
Even when there is no place to hide underneath the sky.
The tortoise knows best and how best to play and not get hurt;
At the death of the pregnant woman,
He the tortoise was finally caught
And inside a very hot water he drowned.
However, before he was drowned
He whispered loudly to all who cared to listen
"That yet another pregnant woman will die in the market today."

MY EFIK LOVER

My Efik lover

Is a naked goddess

Dark skinned

Figuratively expressive

And in my chill, I am so impressed

Oh! Her touch

She heals my inner mind off every worries

Caressing gently with touches that never ends

Her waist waste my last energy

We-go! We-go!!

With screams from an unheard melody

No help but her, my oxygen!

My Efik lover

Can't get her out of my head even when I tried

For me to loose her completely

"E go beta make malu tail cut

Than make full malu loss"

This is the only memory of her

And in my disc

I keep!

Malu means Cow.

WHO HAS SEEN MY KING?

Who has seen my king, the Omo N'Oba!
The one who daily wears red, the uniform of the gods!
The one who daily breaks the kola-nut for Ogun and other wise gods!
And thereafter shares his strong gin with the thirsty red soil.
I patiently await Esogban
But he refuses to speak in Edo
Of my king, the Omo N'Oba!
In the home of my fathers no one dare to speak of the friend of Ogun who was last seen at the Igue.
But Uselu never lies in telling the truth to Edaiken.
So no tears should drop!
No black be worn!
As he sleeps with his two eyes closed.
Oh I said nothing of such and such as Ogun-Oba never lies in his telling.
And so all awaits Esogban to speak in Edo
The riddles of the gods!
Oba gha to kpere,
Ise!