RETHINK
Is this how it is?
A volcanic bliss;
A thought that gives pangs
Like a cobra’s fangs.
A thought that breaks down
All earlier resolutions, to frown
On anything the opposite sex
Whose passes makes me vex.
On my mind I do scream
How I’ll tell her this and that
Only to, in her presence, go flat.
Is this really it?
A thought that makes my heart beat;
My manliness tells me ‘go’;
My timidity holds me so.
Anything that comes my way,
Hers it is, I always say.
Any action done by her
Exceeds all other by far.
MACHIAVELLIAN
I am told that my gods are not genuine,
That my deities are cannibalistic,
That plurality of gods is mortal sin;
My cultures, ethics, values, lack logic.
Why do I libate to lifeless gods, and
Eat my yams in such a heathenish way?
“Your gods”, they say: “have nothing for the land
Which are sons of darkness, afraid of day”.
The god they now give me is three-in-one,
Used its son’s blood to satisfy its thirst;
Pastors eat our yams, we have communion;
In good and bad we glorify him first;
His bells toll “forget papa and mama,
Europe is better, forget Africa”.
MODERNISM
I had an interview
At Allen Avenue.
I bought shoes, wholesome new
And a suit, colour blue.
I bathed and combed my hair,
Powdered my face to fair,
Polished the shoes with care,
And scooped my taxi fare.
I locked up and came out;
The sun’s glare was about.
No wind, from north to south
For heat rained down in spout.
But norms demand that I,
I clothe and poise comply
The outside can belie
The inside, dirty still.
Around, at the corner,
Was a man, in manner
Like the mad, I gather,
Wearing a strange laughter.
I, civilised, mocked him,
Hated him and his team,
Too with their god who seem
Gladdened in fates so grim.
He on his side mocked me,
Studied me with a sigh,
Turned and mumbled ‘crazy’
N’started with his duty.
Continuing on my way
My mind was affray
But I must go their way
Or die, out from their way.
PARADOX
The most simple things have always been tough
With men stubborn in intent of goodwill;
More we go for them the loves that rebuff
And better priced are the gems that conceal;
Apparent religions are deemed common,
Wasted is money that easily comes,
The wives priced less who dutifully return,
While placid dogs are tickled in their gums,
Life, cheaply gotten,
is not of value;
Men storm battle fields for love of danger;
We die for problem that offer no clue;
Doff our caps for puzzles we cannot conquer,
But life is no simple,
shallow, not deep-
It means “look up and
live, my son”; so cheap
