IMAGINATION OF POETS
Muse is idolatry of imagination,
Worshiping of ingrained ingenuity,
Crescendo of intelligent quotient,
Formulated from originality,
From marshes of bottomless end
And milked for self-aggrandizement.
Imagine imagination,
Plenty like Sahara dunes,
Flowing like charging lava,
To greet the poet’s blotter.
A manifestation of novelty,
The poet’s imagination;
Harbinger of poetry.
Out of a realm of nothingness
Unto the spectrum of creativity
A poet hinges his cerebration
Amid contours of literary acuity
To invent his ultimate creation.
What bequeaths imaginative ideas?
From whence poets construe inspiration
That while they being catapulted by mood,
Elixir of creativity their pens do bedeck?
No wonder the poet is a master of imagination.
And upon his blotter the ink dots cast;
Ink dots of immortality – his poems.
Spurted, so that his imagination may live.
APHORISMS OF LIFE
No matter what the eye sees
It will not shed blood
Only a barren woman would
Believe a baby in the womb bites
When two elephants fight
The grass suffers
But when they make love,
The grass also suffer
Here in lies the parable
And meaninglessness of life.
Whatever comes easy
Also goes easy
Man comes into the world
Though born free
But in all ramifications
He is bound in chains
He strives to break the chains
In the end, he dies disappointed
Like a mere clown searching for a crown.
The only certainty in life
Is its uncertainty
Life destroys the living
He, who is to die
Is no better then a corpse
Medication on a dying man
Is like medication after death
For every man is a moment of decision
Whether Hobson’s or foolhardy
He must make the best of a bad situation
And seek direction by indirection
The accuracy of foresight
Is sustained by hind sight
Life after all is an endless proverb.
To be aware of rights
Is to be ready to engage in fights
Cowards do not venture it
While wise men do and run away
Though they live to fight another day,
But real activists embrace the rite with bravado
And when they die, they become case studies.
The optimism of life
Is to constantly subdue pessimism
New challenges, demand new approaches
Fortune favours those who invest
And regrets weigh down the laggards
Losers quit because they lost
Yet winners never quit
The firewood of life is for those who can gather
They can who believe they can
Life is a process of drawing
Sufficient conclusions from
Insufficient premises
This life is mere somnambulism
Of sleepers on Earth
To wake up is to give up life.
Those who are well
Are needless of physicians
But physicians also fall sick
“Heal thy self” as it is written
But not in all cases
Typical of “the rich also cry”
And if they die,
There is feasting at the wake-keep
The poor are interred without booze and barbeque
Behold! The inequality of man
Follows them even into the grave
Some caskets are more equal than others.
Whether there is life after death
Is a question of personal myth
Every man is entitled to his view
The many faces of religion and philosophy
Makes life a meaningless illogical mad parable.
LOVE OR DEATH
You lied when you said you loved me
You took my love by deception
Your treachery cost me my love
You made me believed in you
I gave you love, my best love
Now I can’t live without you
Give me love or give me death.
I opened a space in my heart for you
I crowned you queen there
Everything I possessed, I sacrifice
The taste of you was honey
No honey can taste better
If you leave now, I shall perish
Give me love or give me death.
Everything has time and season
Every love needs requiting
It’s good to love and be loved
All years I was without love
For you my love sprouted
You crept into my blood like virus
Now, I suffer your fever
With you I stay, without you I die
Give me love or give me death.
Before now my eyes saw no light
Before now my limbs were numb
Sensuality for me was dead
For you my lilies charged
With you I knew real passion
The fire in your eyes lightened my life
For me to let you go, I must cease breath
Give me love or give me death.
You to me are everything
You are the song of my breath
There’s no song more melodious
To give you my best
I shall not rest
But as you say you must leave,
I put before you a ring and dagger
Give me love or give me death.
HARVEST
Behold the architectural grandeur
Standing on its mass
Covering a mega acre
High as Tower of Babel
Wider than the Titanic
Under the sun it sweats
Its brass cap glistering like broken china
With a spire that defiles all stray breeze
And a crucifix
That is lightning friendly
Flashes attack the grandeur
But the crucifix is censored
The crucifix is truly the saviour.
Through the high panes
The sun smiles at the pews
The front pews don’t see the smile
Some pews are more equal than others
Fair is the sophistication
Foul is the segregation
To men be the glory
From whom come the donations
Woe! Unto the poor
For they shall have no front seats.
The bell chimes
Trumpets resound holy jazz
Cymbals and tambourines blend the strings
Microphones replace megaphones
The hallelujah commerce commences
Isn’t the auctioneer also a clergy?
Bids must be high
As high as the grandeur
Woe! Unto bidders who can’t pay
For they shall be booed and cast away.
At night, silence strolls into the grandeur
All go but one
The overseer is alone
He sings the left over songs
The ones left behind by the congregation
Woe! Unto those who alone sing songs
Meant for the congregation
For they shall be the ones
To receive the punishment meant for them.
BLOODY TRADITION
Blood there!
Blood here!
Blood everywhere!
Cries here!
Cries there!
Cries everywhere!
Hail trado – surgeons
Hail their scalpels
Their combination victimize victims.
One victim couldn’t stand the fate
Before dawn she was late
The next didn’t wait
Victim and mother made a run
The clan decreed their return
Their kindred were banished in-turn
Many a victim limps from deformity
Some lost their fertility
Dozens, their sensuality
The custom is preposterous
The custodians are barbarous
The bloody tradition is ridiculous.
SALUTE TO THE LAKE
Ancient
stagnant deluge
Old as
the world
Never
flowing, ever overflowing
Translucent
above, murky beneath
To welcome
a frogman is tabooed
Not even
the lakeside dwellers.
Who fetch
your well daily.
No stranger
prowls your waterside
Every
indigent son knows the risk
Ancient
magnificent marine
You’
re the protector
The ‘Agbala’
The poetic
justice,
That
metes judgement
Dangerous,
Diabolic,
Destructively
devastating.
If you
become provoked,
Heads
must roll!
Blood must spill!
Auto
crash is inevitable
Your
T-junction a bloody mesh.
Ancient
mighty aqua
You have
no tributary
No canal
flows to,
None,
flows fro.
You habour the sacred water lion
That
comes out to sunbath on the tar
On bright
sunny days
Greetings
O’ great lizard!
You fascinate
commuters and me.
Each
time you nap in the sun.
Deaf
to hooting horns,
Oblivious
of traffic rules,
Your
snoozing must not be disturbed.
U-turn,
the only veritable escape.
