The Poetry Marathon

The ikoro

Summoner of the kindred

You have called

And here we are

Gathering,

Humans and spirits alike.

Here we are at the sacred Grove.

You have never summoned us in vain.

We are here, men and women,

Our ears awake and waiting

To hear what the new year has in stock for us.

I beamed with joy

My face radiating blessedness

As the floodgate of pent up joy let loose

The throaty sound rang out loud.

It was infectious.

I saw the tortoise

Running so fast

To meet up an appointment

With the Chief of Army Staff.

Yes I saw him, I mean the tortoise

Talking to himself

And running to meet the Chief…

Moin-moin

The thoughts of you and what you did to me

Leaves me with a bitter-sweet sensation.

Nobody knew you were in my pockets

Staining the insides

And burning my thigh.

I think your name is derived from the sound you make in the mouth.

I was just eating you moin moin moin

And about to take the fourth one

My teacher appeared.

I think primary four

And the wraps were four.

I quickly dunked you inside my shorts pocket

And so you ruined my entire day,

Moin – moin

When the brain cracks

The mind loses tracks

Man is but a mere freak

Freaking out with a streak

What is left of the mind’s trick

Let us return to the garbage dump

Where lost souls gather to lump

Together their tales of the mirror

Fractured with no questions from the juror

Who would always poke  at the mind

Not minding who and who are blind.

In this season of crackers

We see so many hackers

Whose minds have gone bunkers…

We must return to that refuse heap

To rescue all those about to flip.

When he mounted the saddle

He referred to himself as the head

And taught us the importance of the two shoulders and the heart.

We cheered and the governor went to work.

He appointed the Chief Judge and tagged him one shoulder

Then he influenced the choice of the Speaker of the House of Assembly

And said that’s the other shoulder.

When he brought a well known sophisticated pen robber and made the Accountant-general,

We asked, “Is he the heart?”

He nodded in the affirmative,

And suddenly we realized we’ve just been cursed with the four pillars of corruption.

It is sad

We broke apart

Not by design

Nor by default

But you must not let that dream die.

Like my fathers before me,

Everyone must answer

The call of the great beyond

But I will not allow you to go astray.

The dream you had was big

And I know your heart is large too

To face the challenges ahead

And surmount all obstacles

Intended to make you fail.

Hold fast to your dream,

Do not let it die.

It is the collective vision of a race

To restore the lost glory of humanity

And renew the face of the Earth.

In the world of the wealthy pavements are plated in gold,

No one intrudes into another’s space

And there’s time to admire the sunflower.

On the other side of the class divide, garbage heaps adorn the streets,

Everyone bumps into everyone

And fights with stones and nails are a sacred ritual as they struggle to maintain an equilibrium of backwardness.

In that cocoon of affluence where the rich converge to dine,

Wine glasses are of the most exquisite and tasteful kind.

But the poor are out there in their arena of poverty jostling over the leftovers abandoned by the menacing dogs of the wealthy.

In the world of the rich the code is to keep raising the equilibrium point of success.

Son,

Don’t ask me why I’m clad

And the rest are bare.

I have seen two worlds.

Two life times.

I saw the sun.

Humans caressed the sun before it scalded them.

I cover my body with leaves and reeds

Because before me a lifetime away

Men covered their bodies with fabrics.

You do not know what that means, right?

I do not remember what ’twas made of.

A smooth and fluffy body cover,

So cool and soothing, worn by men and women,

And humanity lost everything to technology…

There’s no way to describe it to you.

Just something that transfered the powers of God to man.

They drank much of it and dared God!

Like birds they sailed up to hold meetings in heaven.

Like spirits they sat on the two sides of the great river and held conversations

As though they were in the same room.

Then they began to quarrel,

They began to fight.

They brought down the sun and it burnt everything.

On my bed I lay.

Supine, and occupied with my thoughts.

I stare at the ceiling

As the sound wafts in

Caressing my mind.

It’s a violin playing

CrossOver Two by Mr. & Mrs. Cello.

I close my eyes

Like a child in Dreamland.

The sound surrounds the room,

The decibel goes up so does my spirit.

My unconscious persona clings fast

To the allurement of that sound

Coming from the bedside music box.

I drift and my mind lifts

Like a feather dancing

To the drumming of a whirlwind

On a journey to see God