..Untitled 1.. How do you re-create that which is lost? Cry me a river that washes away the sands of time. The specks carried away in slow waves of seconds. To be cast at the beach of hope and drowned in the coming tide. How do you re-create that which is lost? Seed its ghost … Continue reading Short Poems in A-minor (Part 5)
“Cut” “No cutting” “Who said that?” “Masozi.” “Another county heard from” “Why is he talking? He’s sedated…Yes? Cut!” “No cutting.” “Masozi is that you?” “Yes. Slice, just slice…. no cutting.” “Give us a break Masozi! If the injection isn’t working at least pretend you are sedated.” “I’ll try to.” “Okay. Now, Kwabena listen to this, … Continue reading Machina: AGADA
Untitled ‘Tis told I heard, ’bout a wee bonnie lass with a smile that tuned bagpipes in a heart, full, like a birthing moon on a feet swift like the wind ‘Tis said I heard, she hardly tarried till noon, never seen at dusk she left butterflies agape in her wake ‘Tis strange they said, … Continue reading Short poems in A-minor (Part 4)
In the wind Words of love, borne in the wind, Leaves me giddy Lightly like a butterfly I fall, tasting you like cherry drops Touch of love, borne in the wind Away from me, yet so close That I lie still Until my hands recover from your skin Taste of you, borne in the wind … Continue reading Short poems in A-minor (Part 3)
For Anna…. It was always on the sidewalk, Broken like the passing mob chasing the clock Threadbare and slowly aging with the cracks on the walk Welded into the montage of the corner block It’s smell and filth slotted as an extra today A forgotten edit the next day A dark mold another day Everyday, … Continue reading Short poems in A-minor (Part 2)
Seeded dreams in the cornrows of her hair, sprout in the moonlight of the bed where Ala* lay dead. Global warming between her legs. We’d torn the compass from her head, got lost in the thickness of her braids and gave her a perm. Built crude castles with the tar sands of her years, sandbanks … Continue reading Ala
The air is damp, pregnant or for lack of words, speaks of a birth awaiting. I stop, tilt my head upwards and breathe deeply. Filling my lungs with molecules of foreboding, I notice the stars shrinking back while the night sky looks on, brooding. The world suddenly feels a jigsaw of timeless vignettes awaiting the … Continue reading The Knowing
Half formed thoughts Still birthed, they haunt My mind their play ground In greyed corners they abound Remnants of a creation lost Death should be their conception thus Yet they partake of actions formed And now randomness becomes DATE-LINE: 14/08/2010 The old man sits, pipe in mouth beneath a tree, watching the kid, prancing about … Continue reading Diary notes: The Raeberry Street inmate
“What’s up? What are you doing here?” “What are you yourself doing here?” “Typical Nigerian, answering one question with another.” “Abeg free me jor“. “Talk naa, what are you really up to?” “Ok. Mmmm…I am here just for the fun and yeah… to cause trouble.” “Humph! For fun, I hope not at other people’s expense.” … Continue reading About an Author and his Inmates.
THE TRAVELLER Tired, she unclenched her fists. The crushed petals, still shocked, clinging lazily to her, to each other are caught in the wind, and swept into the arms of the lie once held, dancing in rhythm with quickening pace. Gradually as the wind tires silently they fell, gently, tracing the tattoos in her eyes … Continue reading The Traveller + Black Jesus
riding the winds of Ani’s birth from lunar wombs to pregnant stars birthing UV rays that darken skins that skinned Igba i am… dum dum dum dum dum dum the sound of Igba sailing ether molecules to stir their souls in time with my heartbeat the accompanied foot falls forcing the resting dust into a … Continue reading The Sound of Igba
In the pockets of our purple class three school shorts amid crumpled one naira notes, Okin biscuit wrappers and “fast-guy nor be thief”s he forsook our youth Travelling many Benins to Jeminis*, okin biscuits to ghana must go(s), at the end of his yellow brick road, the rearview mirror covered with graffitis of eko’s jeun … Continue reading My friend, GuyMan
what a fate mocked the King of Beasts ………a god born bound a godslavegod a slavegodslave ……….what a fate smiled his laughter Damned clock! I roll over and knock it off the stand. It still rings. The persistence of the thing….. “It’s a bit inflamed, Mrs Nwanze. But you shouldn’t worry too much; I’ll … Continue reading Dr Doctor