Had a bird at hand Eyes thousands in the forest That’s the way we’re Except you’re one of the few finest. Had a home so peaceful Invites angelic home breaker That’s the way we’re Except you’re one of the few finest. Living peacefully in a house roofed with law Wishes to live above it That’s … Continue reading That’s The Way We’re
We are children of beggars we have no choice but to automatically harness our little talent or what we know it as knowing how to beg and prolly wash cars Since we’re surrounded by poverty penury, and a radical outlook of insanity We live our lives with no strings attached to it all we do … Continue reading For The Children Of Beggars
Poets are murderers Yes we are. We are teachers of the ultimate truth We enlighten the universe of the foundation of life We teach them love With sweet tongues we forge our words Making them into beautiful sounds for the ears And pleasant sight to the eyes. We feed their hearts with fantasies and pleasant … Continue reading Poets are murderers
Where dreams are gold of thought Where cloud are silvers of hope Where future husband the street Where ghost don’t crack bones of human. This colour of African night depict water A formless form of laughter tickling home If this history be made of Kinta Kunte, I will lit this weekend with a strange tune … Continue reading May We Meet Again.
Remember the street is a dryeR Easing out fears into a flat pastE Memories may be seen as an imaM Entering into convenant with hastE Minding the time he coiled on kiliM Beauties of the street are folded like bulb Entertaining the earth like lonely artistE Remember the street made you a fatheR Thinking for … Continue reading Remember The Street
“Do you remember the story of the Antelope Woman?” “It is story time?” I screamed with childish delight. We had both been staring at the seamless beauty of the constellation of stars the whole time. Papa and I were lying on the mat outside our home enjoying the caress of the cool evening breeze. “Have … Continue reading A Night of Dreadful Wonder
My eyes pierced into her thigh Into the upper room of a hole Connecting hell and heaven I was introduced to infatuations Hanging my thoughts and prayers Through the imagination of her pride I saw her nakedness through her look Love spoke but lust became louder I erected my body like a ghost tree against … Continue reading Infatuations
A place? An ideal? A struggle? A people? A hope? A war? Yes, but it’s bigger. My father said it took him years to stop ducking when he heard the sound of airplanes. As a child whenever a plane flew past, it was almost certain it was a bomber and everyone would scream “duck for … Continue reading What is Biafra?
create a golden route for a poet like me, let the embodiment of song carved itself in the palms of the world beyond till lyrics of faith light to ease the thought of my mind. If you die before me, tell papa not to cry. the shrine he left in my hand is still well … Continue reading If you die before me
To love the wrong What worser fate than to love the wrong? To utter words of love and be hit with a prong A two edged stab to your heart to tear you worlds apart And cast it’s shadow on the pitiful demise of your volition Held sway at freewill by another without your permission … Continue reading To Love The Wrong
Were the sky an egg, the sun would be its yolk Were it an artwork, the painter will be God If rain was virgin silver escaping from heaven’s treasure house Men would line up in their numbers to be the first to be drenched If earth was a building of precious stones Wouldn’t you … Continue reading Know Your Place
All we need is a working system Where public funds are utilize to the core From the one in the government to the one out there Ruled or rule each one has part to play Towards a working democracy Delivering the real mandate of democracy Having people in mind making their opinions count In … Continue reading Towards A Working Democracy
“For the sake of next year’s election, we need to do this Mister President” The special adviser to the president. The room went silent, sited on the round table are high-ranking politicians and military personals. I felt like bagging into the room and killing everyone them, port bellied idiots, it would be considered treason, at … Continue reading Dead Lions Don’t Roar.
My sister would always wait until the time lose concentration in the dead evening. She would tell mother it was time for vigil. Her racial church always has one every Friday. Mother won’t complain cos she thought her to be a good girl & we were the bad eggs. I became sick of watching her … Continue reading Those Things Girls Do behind Closed Doors.
They called us “dot” on the map and nobody is quite sure where. Inside that “dot” were 700 lawyers, 500 physicians, 300 engineers, 8 million poets, 2 novelists of the first rank, and God only knows what else — about one third of all the black intellectuals in Africa. Those intellectuals had once fanned out … Continue reading A Betrayed People