Activism

Every time I walked the dusty path,
I knew my name would be remembered
The glorious end of my life,
Would be celebrated like its independence.

A broad smile laced with amity,
I would tell SHELL not to kill again.
Without fear, I wished I was him,
That fights for his people with great acumen.

A philosopher who believed in gods,
I would sing and call their names, without fear.
I would lend voices to the dumbs,
I would interpret for the deaf, without fear,
For I have death in my pouch, just like him.

Just like he that was sent a letter bomb.
Nothing would scare me of the tomb.
I would seek equity for both sexes,
No man would menstruate, even if he had the largest testis.

The dimmed street light charmed me.
She didn’t call on me, but I couldn’t ignore her
That would be a bad start of my activism
How much is it, I pointed at her oranges.

Two hundred naira, she said
That’s too cheap, I raged.
As she tossed her fruits,
I salivate for what she would look outside her suits

I have not eaten today,
Famished for something edible, I prised not.
She walked me to her blue room.
My heart lost idea, but it crooned.

I scooped at her with my spoon.
I let her have my money.
It wasn’t sex that drove me so mad,
Her standing in the cold is what I disliked.



2 thoughts on “Activism” by Hussain Ahmed (@HussyAlagaOgun)

  1. This is is nicely and creatively written piece of poetry.

    Keep writing!

  2. Thank you, I would keep writing.

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