THE WAITING… (3)

It stretches on forever

 White canvass of nothing

Stark, vast, endless

Against colours of expectations.

Thoughts aglow, undying embers

Of stubborn hopes burning

Flooded by towering waves of

Cresting, billowing dreams.

I am temporary suspended

In fantasies soft, well blended

Into future reality picture carved.

Eager eyes aloft placed

Will I seek divine being’s approval

Earnest thoughts violent careen

In desperate prayers, fears, supplications, pleas

Fervency lies in mind’s desperate bid

If from outward display calm hid

I am helpless saturated in longing,

No more satisfied in present belonging.

Eyes constant rove, questing, seeking

Compelling perfect timing’s sluggish answer

Hands stretched out wanting

Good fortune opportunity’s clasp.

Raise your glass in celebration

Heartily laugh, dance your salutation

When good news comes…a tree

Here ends our waiting.

Only now…make way return

To paths afore scripted

Settle down never contented

Spurn rest, zealous zest keep churning

Ever watchful desire burning

Be vigilant, lie awaiting…

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THE WAITING… (2)

Why are the stars so far from me

Even though I see them so clearly

So high, so bright

Stark, blinding naked sight

Each sparkle ushers lofty dreams

Dark curtains diamonds blink unseen,

 Stirring inwards a wistful scene

Sad, they never notice me

Or heed sad drops of eyes lumnicense

When will come my day of brilliance?

When step I bold into my glory dance?

I too wish the crowd beneath

I too dream of deafening cries

I too crave a household name

I too long for soaring dizzying heights

May this thirst be light in the groping dark.

Should my path lie in a page

Bid me then fair chance to knowledge

But if the fates await in home and labour

Only pray I for swift timeous chance

I too shall be a sweet smelling rose in the centre of the field!

 

THE WAITING… (1)

 

I am a drop in the Ocean

I am a grain of sand

I am a tree in the forest

I am alone in the crowd.

Do I pray to life a wilted petal

Who may plant a broken stem

Oh fools neglect deep rotten root

Silent screams are loud within me

I cannot find the words.

Day and night the protest weeps dying

Still words don’t always come

What is left to reap

When landmarks are uprooted

and legacies are hidden, buried

Where are the gifts they left us

Where are the many good old days

Only old men remember

What young children never saw

How are aged memories selective laced

Who will see the feathered cap of the young dreamer

Behind the glory of fat thieves

Time forever watches

Do not count on her to grant our wishes

We know not how long we shall wait.

The visitor is a perfect painted glass

Let me see the other side where the journey began.

Can the poor be at peace

When stomachs walls engage in war

Why teach morals to the starving

When he writhes in sickness bed?

I am not at the mountain’s peak

I am not at its craggy foot.

I am somewhere in between

Where obscurity resides

Time is both enemy and friend

Though the day delays,

Hope will finally come

And I shall sigh no more in waiting…

 

GOD’S ERRAND BOYS

I  once had a bitter quarrel with my brother

It was on account of our dear mother

For whom we held much love and sentiment.

Sad, beloved mummy had no knowledge

Nor would have approved our misplaced courage.

Both vexed we exchanged rash insults

Incensed we screamed out mean words

Over a stolen light can of mummy’s sauce.

Said I, big brother was selfish in taking before asking

In turn he called me impish for being over tasking

Swore I was a “rude rat” and great pain

Soon, harsh exchange drove me to violent tears

Pitiless big brother still punched my ears,

And like parody we came to slaps, scratches and blows.
 

 
First a bucket of frigid cold water

Doused irrational flames of temper

Then long blistering sermon followed rigid scolding

Mum scoffed her nose at our self righteous motives

Frowned her brows, hissed angry at desperate defences

Condemned duo grimly, called us misguided tedious

Worse, we erected her senseless discord’s monument!

“such division love driven is a contradiction most heinous”

Love is merciful, love is kind

Love will not destruction find

Nor conceive of injury in mind!

Our valiant folly mum rejected furious.
 

 
In that day I learnt life’s crucial lesson

Love shared in common is a reason for bonding,

Breeds tolerance, dispels prejudice, creates understanding.

To love mother and hate son is to love God and hate man

A paradox none doubtless.

No room for hatred in love is found.

But proud selfishness, and vain righteousness too often

Are mistaken as evidence of loves devotion

 

Today God is mans’ common denominator

We claim him our Lord, Master, Saviour.

We serve and love him in unique different ways

Indeed he watches over us all our days.

Without divine discrimination,

Sun and rain bestows generous upon all,

No matter ones careless disposition.

Saint and sinner, devout and heathen,

He permits all breath and spares early death.

 

A sore contradiction this hatred born from love,

Wicked destruction in masked guise of God’s summon.

Heralded by crimson woe, arrive acclaimed true servants

In ire over Almighty’s tolerance, rise in swift vengeance.

Bloody irony to defend Supreme power’s weakness.

Tin gods require mere mortals to fight their battles,

So we kill, maim and destroy God’s innocent creatures,

We mock, judge and condemn those more sincere righteous.

some wield weapons and bombs while chanting holy tenets

others cast blind labels as though they are blameless

‘Pseudo’, ‘fanatic’, ‘fundamentalist’, ‘true’ ‘deeper’

We condemn the mosques and abuse the churches

We frown on foreign worship calling our way better

Some shun peace, curse ‘Haram’ and vow no tolerance

Determined to cleanse all heathens and remain steadfast

Others use persuasion, trickery and false prophecies

spin wealth from threads of desperate yearnings.

God is not impressed by our vain vigilance

God has his angels and needs no errand boys!

 Written in protest of the ‘Boko Haram’ Islamic sectarian crisis in some Northern states in Nigeria, as well as incessant sectarian violence in nations  Of the middle east region of the world.

 

 

FACES TELL A STORY!

 

Upward mobile …downward spiral

Busy, buzzing, always running

Hustle, bustle movement and scuffle

Never stopping, not even briefly pausing

Just to feel this world of truth for

All around us, human faces tell a story

Not even sounds can hide or bury.

 

Sits a beggar’s eyes downcast,

In weary face a sad glance at still despair

What act will bring a change at last!

 

The beautiful face of hopeful youth

Innocent eyes adorned to greet opportunity

Oh for strength and blessed serenity…

 

A worried brow crossing wide road

Anxious in the face of paths unseen

Who will tell of the most ultimate goal?

 

Tired frown, dropping eyes, a dusty crease

What long journey and oft familiar sorrow

Beg this one wait for the joy of tomorrow.

 

There is an untold story in every face

The mouth covers many truths

Red lips, pink lips, black lips and blue

Bury much and tell bold lies

But the eyes are forever bound to reveal

The truth and mirrored soul behind thin glass.

Faces tell a story even a million words cannot

I wish we’d stop from self made bustle…

And cause wounded hearts to heal!

 5TH April 2009, (on a road journey from Abuja to Jos).

 

THE COMPOST HEAP!

 

What deception is this

Which makes our mind believe

That we shall never age or die

But think forever we shall live?

 

Are we so blind we cannot see

The compost heap and tell

That mans bones are mixed in deep

And soon ours will join as well.

 

Why do we run in endless chase

And lustfully pursue vain goals

What joy if we would love ourselves

And so peaceful rest our souls

 

Stop right now…pause and think

Are you ready for the leap?

For when it comes, sure time will give

Our bones to black compost heap!

 

 

Sunday 6th Sept ’09 (on a road journey from Ibadan to Lagos)

 

THE LAGOS BUS

I know the secret to strong bones

I have found the chiropractor’s cure

Take a ride on a Lagos bus      

Then say welcome bye to painful groans!

Harsh jolts abrupt loosen up stiff joints

Unseat the brain, jostle set it spinning.

Speed bumps hasty shift congealed road blocks

Force harsh toxins and blood clots away for pure streams

Lazy arms flail cyclical, grip metal balance

Buttocks bounce, trash within wood cage

Headaches and migraines bow to superior cracks

Fly, escape forgotten through broken windows.

Deaf ears awaken at long loud grinding clutch

New record breaks at passengers’ colourful stringed curses

As fat petals, unfold the spray of grim driver’s salivered oaths.

Formulaic manic maneuvers inspire mind’s virtual simulation

Of fatal visions catapulting off Kilimanjaro peak

To greedy bottomless canal beneath Carter’s bridge.

Pot holes dent, bend and muscles creak, crack

Again the bus leaps and scared nerves skip…

Too slow hearts jumpstart, make fast trudging paces

Willing the wheels to steady rampant steel

Driver curves in his tattered sit, like a skier at the Swiss Alps.

Miraculously Arthritis discovers its stiff mystery

Former lame veteran jumps agile to safety’s plain

Pregnancy’s unborn child kicks in sudden resistance

Position righted, cord loosened round small neck

Sudden labour’s water breaks to grave shocked gasps.

The fool’s vague memory complete returns

On this horror ride into spiritual trance epiphany

The drunk’s dulled sense brittle rattled to spy alertness

Mellow mind shuns lethargy, uncoils from the depth a slow fear.

Posing lady switches embarrassed to neutral position as

Last night’s shameful G-string springs from swinging purse clasp

To leering grin of yellow teethed, red eyed conductor.

Constipated bowels explode untraceable past vain walls

Fowl gas emissions escape the anal channels, diffuse unhindered

Oxygen caves to superior carbon, ammonia and fart’s mixed fumes.
I know the secret to strong bones

I have found the chiropractor’s cure

Take a ride on a Lagos bus      

Then say welcome bye to painful groans!

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