Some days are like homes
Spewing bombs at the whole world,
Unable to blow.
My little finger
Is ashamed to write out pain
Or paint grief in blood.
I sometimes want to
Strap myself in ecstasy
Without any brakes.
24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Some days are like homes
Spewing bombs at the whole world,
Unable to blow.
My little finger
Is ashamed to write out pain
Or paint grief in blood.
I sometimes want to
Strap myself in ecstasy
Without any brakes.
I fell in love with a saxophonist,
And she played a dirge to my heart.
I admired her everything,
And ended up in a sea of loneliness.
Damn! I loved the way you carry your presence like a gamut of beauty.
Beautiful flower,
I thought I could be sheltered in your umbrella.
Well, I’m out.
I’m on my way to find another.
Grandpa Gaius,
Last night, your children showered
Earth on your mortal home.
The last they’ll ever do for you.
I’m sorry I wasn’t around to say farewell.
I’m sorrier I couldn’t save you on your sick bed.
Death bed?
I watched your body breathe in oxygen.
I doubt that oxygen was of God.
I couldn’t save you.
Grandpa Gaius,
I remembered how we drank Pepsi
Together, as we fixed our eyes on the travesty they call Nollywood movie.
But you didn’t care. You enjoyed every moment with glee.
The smile on your face
Was comforting each time I paid you a visit.
Grandpa Gaius,
I’m not sad you left this corrupt world.
No, I’m happy because you’ve found peace.
Last night on your bed brought tears to my eyes.
I couldn’t even say goodbye.
Your sons wept into a new day,
And tried to keep this away from mom.
She too, felt it in her bones.
You broke her.
You broke us all.
I’m sorry Grandpa,
We’re trying to fight the covid-19;
We’re losing pretty badly.
September 19 is coming.
Confusion lying in wait
At the polling units.
PDP, APC, no difference.
Just same men changing parties.
F*cking government.
What do I do on that day?
They claim they are not like the others.
But were tutored by the same men they try to fight.
Like, who the hell are you?
I’ve made up my mind.
We have no government.
Just reapers in khaki shirts and first class theft auto.
I can’t vote them out.
Doing so, means voting them in.
What do I do on that day?
I think I should sleep in the arms of comfort;
Drown my thoughts in a cup of tea.
Or maybe, I should take the path to leadership.
Oh no! I didn’t hear God calling my name.
God, why didn’t you call my name?
I’m confused.
What do I do on that day?
What do you have today?
Well, we’ve got our special.
And, what’s that?
Well, love on a platter of gold.
Oh, really?
Yea, but you have to welcome
Everything that comes with it.
And, what might they be?
Oh, our chief chef, Cupid
Added a pinch of sensibility,
An eternity of flame.
Well, we’ve got the option of heartbreaks.
Which would you want?
What’s the other?
A chance to love again, and again.
A chance to heal. A chance to savour
The taste of true love in the body of a perfect earth.
Of course, you can avoid this.
You could enjoy our freshly prepared loneliness.
Within castle walls ,
You shelter the world
Within your peace and grace.
Ancient, yet your understanding
Ever young.
Who wouldn’t bow to a queen?
I’d love to bend the knees before you.
Do queens die?