Sunday, November 30, 2008

Love, religious, philosophical and spiritual poems

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, the lady in wine colour blouse, here; is my friend in the pen-pushing business* While the other, Mabel Okosun, late Sony Okosun's daughter is a platonic friend too*

The Reason for the season
(The Immortal King)
Raise your voices to the four cardinal wings
All who knows His worth praise and sing
As I do in this renaissance of the kindly king;
I will rather be under His wing
Than crave silver and gold,
I will however, marry the king
And frown at rusty riches untold,
For on Calvary cross, gushed His blood
Draining off my sins and sorrows flood;
He is the light of my salvation beam
In joy I will forever scream
“Oh my lovely lord
And gorgeous gracious God”
Whenever I shed my clay
To ever in paradise play
Where there is no exchange of baton between night and day
On your bosom oh Lord! Let me baby-like lay.

Let me kiss you again and again
Draining away all sorrows rain
Fledging flood of pain,

Tenderly arresting you hot and tight
Never minding whether you are black or white
Flying you on love rhythm realm kite
Null and void of obstacles to the highest height

Let me cook you with fire of my tongue
Erupting silky gasps from depths of your lungs,
Let me burn you again and again
Planting seedlings in that lovely lane
Though the resultant prize be girl or boy
From waves to waves I shall dance with molecules of joy
Ceaselessly cooking you the milky oil
Till sun and moon may stop their toil.

She is My Lady in Love
Again and again and again
She tears Internet webs
When cocks crow
Waking her from sleep
She wanders to my window
Beckoning my soul with smiles,

She is the sexiest of souls
I have ever come to know
Scattering smiles indiscriminately on souls
Like sad setting snow
Salvaging starving soils,
She tirelessly spreads to spoil
Us as her sparkling soars
Plants electricity on our souls
Burning bodies, spirits and souls
With her cunning smiles,

Again and again she sprays
Pungent watery rays
To kill us every day
Like sleeping snow’s
Velvety Venus voice
She sends love coals to my soul
As she sings and slides from sky,
To sleep by my side
Spotting a golden smile…

Obamania Poli-Soccer
When the black mustard seed was about to spring
In the surroundings of oaks and iroko fields ring
Many never thought he had a chance
To kiss the sky in the political dance
The atmosphere was looking tense
With winds alternately light and dense
While fingers of time clicks the clock
Towards dawn, as the seed was climbing the rock
Some said he may not touch the top
While others mocked he was only practicing to hop
That at the door step of drizzling dawn
He would be disallowed to see the sun
But alas, after so many snow falls
He kisses the sky and plays the ball.

Mungo Park disciples
The fingers of our ancestors
Were in pots healing us
With aromatic flavours
Of nature in our Aso Rock huts
Though looking ramshackle
But never falls like a fowl on one leg;
Then the claimers came to play pranks
On us with paternoster of holiness
Flowing like River Niger
From the hearts of their white skins
To raid, rape, scramble and scatter
Our virgin wealth so pure to them
More than the bodies bearing them.

Cancer went asleep
Fever went asleep
All sickness were sick and sleep
By the fingers of our ancestors
In clays we drank from
Until paternoster prowlers with envy
As voracious as the sea
Drove all to dustbins,
Preaching they are unclean
And cannot cure
And so they lure and lure and lure
Us to bury our ancestral roots,
We foolishly follow, follow them.

Oh Africans! The ancestors are crying!
Now is their clarion call to prove your worth
Oh Africa! And seize number one slot
In relay of conglomeration of continents
Battling to punch and prison AIDS,
Employ the ancestors’ fingers
Which did call bullets from bodies,
Call AIDS now to dance to your command.

Follow not the ranting of “ranters”
Claiming to be doctors-know-all,
Make the wiseacres fame fall
By commanding diseases to flee
Into seas and perish like demons
Did obey Mary’s son,
For the ancestors are annoyed
Knocking on your hearts door
As you dance puppetry like puppets
To green snakes whose m├ętier
Is to drain your living matter
Only to give you again as aid to Africans
Like Mungo Park did the Niger.

Oh Africa!
The Mungo Parks give nothing
New to you, all you
Receive are your recycled resources;
Oh Africa! Beware of the Mungo Parks!

(Dedicated to late Professor Olikoye Ransome-Kuti)
If life like dawn
We blossom and pass on,
What is life if we cannot capture many time
To mingle, tingle and tango, void of strife?

What is life
When words we splatter are lime
And brimstones cutting like knife?

What is life! Oh what is life!
When everyday Romeo punches wife
And washes her with kisses
Singing “I love you,” but her face in pieces?

What is life
When many freezing faces to graves
A privileged few are burning wealth in caves?

Oh what is life! What is life!
If like dawn we toil
And in peroration worms will spoil
All our toil in soil?

If we like dawn
So bitterly short we flay at dawn
What is life!
What is life!
If all we could mould are mountains of strife?

What is life! What is life!
When we radiate like flower in the morning
And wither in the evening?

Saturday, November 29, 2008

Excerpts from my "Murdered In Buckingham Palace" poetry anthology

Happy Birthday
Olorogun! Olorogun!! Olorogun!!!
We salute your humility
It is not easy to clock seventy
These days of incredibilities,
Says sun, stars and moon
Every time he edges his steps
Seas erupt with joyous stirs
Volcanoes quench their anger
Winds whisper with wonder
At his elegant simplicity
And liberal loveliness to humanity,
With his wealth of mighty blue happiness
Spreading in sky,
But his humble nature
You can’t catch a clue
That he bought any bicycle, blue,
His love paints places blue blue blue
With hope and happiness news
Yet he doesn’t arrogantly argue
Neither painting nor scattering sky with pride
Like some folks quake, rake, shake
Everywhere, causing earthquakes
For just clutching some crumbles of cakes.
We praise your honorificabilitudinity
Olorogun abo vworo vworo
Shining in sky
As your names depict: Olorogun M.C.O. Ibru
When we look at sky
Your name is there
When we look at seas
Your name is there
When we look everywhere
Your names are there,
Many mountains and monuments shall pass away
But your name shall never pass away
Because it blends bluishly with sky, for ever.
Who can banish blue from sky?
We wish you great health
With many peaceful years ahead.
Hip! Hip!! Hurrah!!

The Cardiovascular King
(Dedicated to Kanu Nwankwo)

His shots are sometimes accompanied by gun powder dust
Sending opponents lingeringly lost
His penchant for electrifying ball caressing
Is his pendant of real identity romancing
A technical exploit unconventionally uncommon
Keeping defenders adrenaline ceaselessly on the run
While bubbles of joy dances on many faces
Of worshippers worshipping the round leather in all places
By mere back heeling with any of his ankles
Goalkeepers’ faces are blessed with bitter wrinkles
As the round leather rest inside the net
The gangling striker celebrate like a jet
Many hearts are thereby healed
By his cardiovascular massage from the field
Mounting to the King Kanu Heart Foundation
Saving souls without fingers of racial discrimination
If all could borrow a leaf from this saviour
The world would wave goodbye to all sufferings flavour.

Victor, Naomi living on
(For late Mr/Mrs. Victor Umoren)
Whose smiles could shine
Brighter than sun, moon and stars?
Though their clay has gone
I see, I saw, I see
Them smiling than the sun,
Speaking and sparkling than stars,
Magnificent mannerly than moon,
Their spirits smiles on,
Stamped and sealed in
Sun, moon, stars blood
In memory of your blood
Daily and nightly shining
While death is weeping shamefully
As you splendidly smile, living lovingly
In the sun smiling
In the moon merrily
In the stars stainlessly
As irresistible as wind;
You lovingly live with light
There, there is no night,
Am seeing your faces, smiling
From all satellites of sky,
Deadless and boundlessly alive,
Your love; lovely like Romeo and Juliet
But not like fighting families of Capulet and Montague,
Smile on and on.

(Mr. and Mrs. Victor Umoren died in a car crash that involved the convoy of the then Minister of Cooperation and Integration in Africa, Chief Dapo Sarumi on the Sangotedo stretch of Maroko-Epe Expressway, Lagos. The poem was publish by the defunct National Concord Newspaper on January 26th, 2001)

Monday, November 10, 2008

Excerpts from Murdered in Buckingham Palace poetry anthology

The eternal Sun
Truth is the sun rise
Making Night shine alive,
He bitterly arrives
Bravely to fight and fry
Darkness of lies
And blanket of evil flies
In any black sky
He paints the world white
With his beautiful light
Everyday and night,
He is always right
In his fearless fights.

As New Year yells
The people you meet today
Make your tomorrow
By uprooting ailing actions of yesterday
Weed away every seed of sorrow…
Plant light on darkness face
For fellows to follow
Any time, any place, any race
Your deeds should be diamonds to borrow
So your name shall conjure joyful tears
As time travel the track of yelling years…

The King’s visa
(Dedicated to Late Michael Susuluwa)
At the twilight of a sinking sun,
Some wise men planted their eyes on
A new king born
In a territory tipsy with thorns,

They returned home, filled with fun
Leaving Herod foolish and forlorn:
But after the king has grown and gone,
Lucifer and his subjects are still on the run
Until judgement day will gun:
Oh what a wailing on the day!
All our sweet stories we will say
When it would have been too dead to pray
To avoid the fiery furnace way
Be building your saving grace today.

Cycling circles
The world is circle,
Mother of great circles;
Rain drops and dries in cycle
Folks wander in circles
I wonder in cycles
Riding thoughts cycles,
Why there are poverty circles
In world full of food circles
Some are in rich circles
Others die in hunger circles
We are born in cycle
And die in cycle
Like rain cycle
We cycle in circles,
What an endless cycle!
We go round in circles,
Is God a circle?

Oh mothers! Don’t drown death
For your daughter’s death
Though I know why you cry,
She is your universal daughter
Helping to bind, boil and fry
Weeping clothes every day on earth,

Never mind, tomorrow she will smile again
And shall surely die again…
How many rains will you cry,
When she reincarnates and dies again?

Tread your thrilling tears
And pocket your beautiful fears
For endlessly she lives and dies
Again and again, with her seductive smiles…