CAUTIONARY TALE

"The potion of fortune dey here o,
Effective than panadol and agbo,
Crushes misfortunes faster than Otapiapia,
Buy yours at shikini money,
You snooze; you lose."

"I battled with disfavour for years
Until I discovered the masterkey of favour
Fortune came in bullion vans
I have limited copies on how to make fortune within a twinkling of an eye
The link is on my bio"

"Ohun ti oun n wa lo Sokoto,
O wa lapo sokoto re —
The catchphrase of gehazis,
Masquerading behind clicks,
Swaying naamans; the highest bidders In the auction of greed.

-

KIRAKITA

Gbe kemi gbe,
Owo n ro mi ,
The endless search,
for the drowned axe heads,
to smoulder these rocks
hoarding the milk and honey of our Canaan.

Kirakita ti dola;
Hustle is the pathway to luxury,
our escape route from sunkere fakere
biting and breaking the bones
of hospitable hands on our paths.

Ajo ti dabi ile,
Ile ti bomo leru,
row your boat,
I'll paddle my canoe,
we'll unite at the borders,
to resume our patriotic duties.

-

CONFESSIONS

Father...
I know my thoughts makes your eardrums itch and cringe,
With its darkness and wildness,
But I want you to hear from my lips.

I saw your creation today;
The fine bobo you molded,
But I chose to see him differently,
Totally different from your lens.

I was my brother's keeper,
Tending to their needs,
But they chose to rant about my gullibility.

I casted several stones,
In my mind, words and actions,
Ignoring the specks in my eyes.

I promised to turn the other cheek,
But I forgot to seal my lips at the car that splashed mud at me.

I broke my fasting before daybreak,
after blowing raspberries at the sniffles of my belly.

But, here I am again
at your throne of grace
requesting for your pardon and help
To make my yes yes and no no.

-

FOR US

This is the anthem,
commemorating the bound freedom,
and free burdens,
rendered in the turbulence of our hearts.

The forgotten songs,
of patriots turned fugitives,
that got us hooked to the chorus of 'one day'.

Ofe ni irewesi, Iran lowo,
Vision is as costly as mistakes,
Frustration is cheap like labour,
sweetened with milkshake.

This is the interlude,
for every tongue and breath,
reminiscing in the basement of babel.

This is the lyrics;
a catchphrase swallowed in bits,
to survive the winter of homeland's amnesia.

-

TO THEM

To the bellies that groan,
after the bustle of daily bread,
To the throats that begs for drops of rain after a heatwave.

To the mirrors that refracts in the day,
and reflects to the chastise of conscience at night,
To the figures; hospitable to subjects
and bites the dust at the sight of flaws.

To the waists that swell with pride
after a dance of shame,
To the limbs that sprints at the rehearsals of doom.

To the horoscopes that failed the diligent,
and favours the dreamers,
To the telescopes that observes,
and pluck stars at will.

To them, redirected to Akeldama as a price for gullibility,
To them who stood as compass for the lost.

I see you,
I am closer to you,
But you can't hear my footsteps.

-

CONFESSION

Father...
I've flunked this test of faith,
time and time again,
My zeal and patience stands trial,
In the court of doubt.

I was the mirror,
Reflecting your love and glory,
Read like an open book,
By sheep and wolves;
Defecting to the wilderness,
At the glimpse of my flaws.

I'm striving to stand firm,
In these overwhelming gales,
Tossing me back and forth,
Into the pit of my vomit.

Trudging through the city,
Like a fugitive,
Carrying my cross like a backpack,
But, all I see is sirens not Cyrene.

-

LOVE COMPASS

Do I need to sail on oceans?
Do I need to till the land?
Do I break the mountains?
Is there a compass to guide me
In my quest for love?

"Love lives in the north,
Spends summer vacation in the south,
Travels to the west for facials,
And plays hockey in the east."

Navigating through the realities
The tales of premium shege—
An auto-renewal of drama,
Tear glands running out of tears,
Hearts skipping beats like a turntable.

The chronicles of men are scum;
Soiling your mind with beautiful lies
While caressing your thighs
And serving you a stir-fry breakfast.

The diaries of look before you leap;
The streets are allergic to kindness,
Playing violins of violence repeatedly,
Until your leftovers of sanity runs out.

Regardless of these charades,
Love dwells in uncharted territories,
Pops up like a blue moon,
Waiting to receive you in open embrace,
if only you wait,
But, you are an impatient head.

-

WISECRACKS

Breakfast in bed
Burns calories of happiness;
Until it becomes a nightmare of your bigger- picture.

He is a king
But he lost his crown to a madman
In a dress rehearsal.

She struts after two shots,
Walking on invisible rocks,
That seems visible like a matter
occupying her breathing space.

Take this dosage of sanity;
Two in the morning,
One at noon,
Six in the night,
To keep you in-sane,
In the melodrama of the mind.

We are not whistleblowers,
But we are refrees,
Blowing whistle of full time in half time.

Life is full of sixs and nines
Yet all I see is six over nine
And nine over six.

2/2

-

WISECRACKS

I'm a man of few words;
Broken into syllables,
As food for thought to vultures,
Handpicking comedies from fleshy tragedies.

Do as I say,
But don't say what I do,
It's a mystery, unwilling to be unraveled,
By putting yourself in my shoes,
And seeing from my cornea.

Silence speaks louder than noise
And amplifies the bass of grief
To the beats of soulful hearts.

It was a net-breaking catch—
To the hook and lines of philanderers
Punching out the sensors of señoritas.

You are my passport to woo Comfort,
But she's as cold as furnace,
Now I crave for your warmth
To rest in Comfort's bosom.

1/2

-

CREAM AND GRIM

Cream and grim—
The bittersweet chocolate,
That scalds the heart,
And melts the tongue.

Test the waters;
The muddy waters and raindrops,
That strips roofs and roots.

All that glitters is not gold;
The basement of luminous smiles.
Grunting to the spasms of grief.

Short-lived memories,
The absence of the present,
The presence of the absent,
Frolicking with the eyes of the mind.

D
i
s
t
a
n
c
e
The transition from dust to paradise,
The rift between passion and trust.

The frictions of faith and fate
The intersections of aptitude and sentiment
Dissecting the fats of facts and lies.

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