Give me four black gongs (ding) Two enchanted seashells(dong) Mucus from a blind seer(ding) Cobra’s scales(dong) For someone has died(ding). Give me voodoo bowls(ding) A sacred lyre(dong) Give me nine stillborns(ding) Venom from a mamba’s bite(dong) To sing dark praises for Festus Iyayi (ding). Give me leather bibles(ding) To swear by crossroads(dong) Give me holy … Continue reading For A Scapegoat Of Irresponsible Governance: A Town Crier’s Requiem
When I was a little boy, my siblings and I, we walked miles to school. Secondary school. Wearing the green uniform and brown sandals (or barefoot if your sandals tore on the road), we walked to and fro, on a road tarred in the early sixties and now overused and descrated by potholes. We loved … Continue reading Long Black Train. (Hysteria IV)
Once to live, Twice to die Taking with him Multitudes Down a fiery grave. Must we renew our weeping, Sprout new tear glands, Leaking eyelids And broken hearts? Do we blame Faceless village winches Or look for invisible faults In the plane? This death I grieve for, More than the once-for-all-dead, A humiliation, A desecration … Continue reading The Death Of A Corpse
‘ You can’t fuck with God, man, your dick ain’t that big’ -Cobra Joe. Hymar David’s ‘Badt Boiz’ Chapter IX. ¤¤¤ I am the baddest of the bad, my name is Hymar, I can molest my haters like I am Yerima, You say you ain’t a fan, well, I don’t like you either, And if … Continue reading Diss To Pieces
Mimi dearie, The last time I checked, you looked good. Good enough for me to ask, ” Are you a 90 degree angle, ’cause you are looking right.” I remember the first time I came on NS, I was just a naive newbie who wrote terrible poetry and stories my sister laughed at. I however … Continue reading Leaked : A Letter To Mimi
I hear a gong being sounded, no, cross that, pounded with a hysterical frenzy. It seemed the town crier has run mad. But, It is only grief that drives us beyond our extremes to wail in undignified repose at the passing of icons. Go your way Awoonor, take with you our stories, scold God, take … Continue reading For Kofi Awoonor
Someone once told me my works have just one underlying theme. She asked how come most of my works were filled with it. I am talking about a teen friend of mine who kept pestering me to ‘write fast na’ so she can read the stories. She said I liked to write about pain. Here’s … Continue reading MIRACLES (Hysteria 6)
It is dawn and still we snore on,still we dream of tomorrows, even though today is staring us in the face. We ignore the cockrel’s wake up crow, ignore the sun slating through leaking roofs onto our faces. We dream on. Of monstrously huge mansions, armed convoys and better tomorrows. The Nigerian Dream. The world … Continue reading Dusk Dirge
We know the art of progress, it shows in our patents, casks full of unbirthed dawns with stillborn fates. Embracing change, we perfect over and over the art of dying. Yet, We fuss over one endangered butterfly species. Grandpa said once that God has grown soft with old age. that mercy has turned his hands … Continue reading Curse God and Live.
When MKO Abiola was lowered into the earth,his dreams a shroud,his cask weighing tons, they murmured about the junta, and the General, And the tea, and June 12 ghouls. And Dele Giwa’s murderers contest seats, pass anti-assassination bills, fund phoney NGOs……while impotent whispers caress the air, Of cockroaches, cupboards and midnight massacres. Kudirat Abiola’s shadow, … Continue reading Inertia
From nowhere, two pistols appeared in the stranger’s hands. And suddenly the thunder of gunshots filled his ears. He shrank to the far corner of the room as the stranger worked his weapons at the creatures who hauled themselves at him. He was so fast, his hands moved in a blur. So fast, his eyes … Continue reading Sundown 0666. Pt 4
– Books Don’t Suck, Schools Do – – Hymar ” It is not where you graduated from or what you graduated with, it is what graduates out of you that really counts.” – – Someone. ~~~~~~~~ “How do you cope in class? ” That’s the most frequent question I get asked by people I am just … Continue reading On School And Classes [Hysteria 4]
A few years back, when he was serving in Congo on a peacekeeping mission, his closest friend was a History graduate who had bad breath and talked too much. But he loved listening to Speaker Sam. He loved his stories. The most intriguing being the tales of the Masai warriors who could sleep on their … Continue reading Sundown, 0666 II.
She stood on the bridge, staring into the dark waters below. The wind blew chilly gusts across her tear-stricken face. The Moon was shining. Bright. Too bright for her melancholia. She wanted darkness. Thick, impassable darkness to colour the night. To hide her from the world. She thought his name over and over. She saw … Continue reading Seed
Nala. He Stood in the shadows. A tall man wearing black and clutching a cane. His eyes scanned the streets, looking for signs of life but it was empty. In the darkness, an owl hooted, a blackbird called out in response and a dog barked a long, long way away. He felt the bruise on … Continue reading Sundown, 0666