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Monthly Archives: January 2014

Ode: My Daughters’ Birthday

Wake up
Wake up, my little daughter
Its that time in a year
They say to your ear
Have no fear

Have no fear
Even if its all mallam to his kettle
There is a new droplet of water
In every kettle you handle
My little daughter.

You shall never stand still
Or get your feet planted
Today sometime ago
Your small innocent head flowed
Flowed out of a sequester.

Don’t be confused by a grammar
Never do
Mum displayed a drama
Wonderful hearing your first trauma
Today sometime ago.

It pleasures in knowing
A lot of advancement
Time just gets you growing
Into a beautiful Queen

Its 12am, wake up
Wake up
Remember today,
Is your birthday
So better get the party started.

Get that your ajebo body bubbling
Never forget to show your teeth too
No one cares if it is up to thirty-two
The more smile the more the fun
The more the certainty of the verb
Of love your friends got for you.

Candles and cake
Should be seen in the scene
Is that assurance of
Long life and prosperity.

The candlelight shall lead you through
The path of Jubilation
Blow it off and make a wish.

The cake is sweet
So fun shall be overjoyed
Its job is not done
See you my wonderful daughter,
On your birthday next year
Or whenever you are born.

Tales Of A Wife: Iyawo

Countless great men he commands
He is like a king
In-fact he is
A king of a clan.

They all see him as an eagle
He has this majestic ego
No one can-
Rubbish or Imagine to

– Or so they feel
He can and could
Handle an axe on a wood
On decisions and actions

But she don’t care
How reddish
Or greenish
His apples may appear

Or the drops of tears
He has made others shred
By sending arrows
To kill or to pierce.

In his imaginary clan
If ranked,
She is the least
But she commands him

Humbles and make him kneel
Doesn’t matter how tall he is
She bends him
Like farmers do to plants

She makes him plead
Far above his guilty pleasure
No doubt every man
Has a lady who screws his nuts.

Even when innocent
She makes him feel guilty
Not by an affair between
A teenager and an oldster

On his golden throne
“Get me a mirror” he commands
Staring at it, he wonders:
“Why does she call me a boy.”

Don’t Call Me Mad: Trip To Heaven

If I make it to heaven
The angels foul-played
Before and now
That my finger got its ring
I’ve fought toe to toe
Against 10Cs on a ring
Called life.

I’m that pretty girl you sing
“To love up to the moon”
Your soul I take
Cat oriented
I get you to the mood
By a penny for a round.

The rule in my hood
Is an eye for couple more
Forbidden apple or,
Flames by a stick
Vision gets blurred
Hands on bottles and glasses
This is just what I do as a man.

Lightening don’t strike
Directly to the earth
But with me it does
In the ocean
Of floating heaven
Life has got a stone
On my faith so I sink.

I’m everybody, I’m you and am me
From the rulers to subjects
Peace is not my object
Neither is love a word I spell
If I make it to heaven
There must be no space in hell
Or heaven gate is porous.

Don’t Call Me Mad: Liquid in a tube

There it goes
No way right
Down or left.

All it does
Is above rising
Gradually climbing

Like the Sun does
In the morning
For all age.

It may amuse you
The way it moves
But to it, is but in jail

In a narrow tube
Rising above its equals:
A big eye with a little courage
It climbs with wisdom
Hoping to get to the brim

And call for freedom!

Native Fly: King Of Agbor

Never knew how rich
A place called a land
By the Bini empire is.

Iyare… Iyare!
By the hallway
An elderly woman praised.

The winding horn blow
Calling out the mighty ‘Agwu’
Whose presence terrifies an enemy…

Iyare… Iyare!
Eze bu’ eze
An elderly woman praised
As he sits on his golden thrown.

The ruler of a town
Town with a cheerful heart
Dein they call him
Dein Keagborekuzi.

The roaring lion of Boji-boji
Youngest king crowned
All over the world.

The youngest King ever
Whose name flows
Wonderfully to the world
In none stop never
Right from Orogodo River
Sitting on his golden throne.

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