OLD LOVER...

Let us talk old lover,

of our love that went sour

like fermented palmwine, or wine 

ladden thick with vinegar

as old white shirts turn yellow with age, 

or like the swirl of mighty water

poured down a little cup

till all that's left is a trickle

narrowing slowly like a funnel's end.

You were first a neighbour

young, innocent and naive.

I liked you then in a strange way

while sharing bed with a friend to your friend.

You wouldn't touch me with ten-foot pole,

men of my ilk scares you

virtue-thieves you tagged me

but for my mind and know-how

I would to you be useless.

Years and years down the lane

we met again as fate would will it

from a phone call to several of same

end-to-end till your guard I lowered

you liked me for what I stood for

but now that you've grown,

I'm too boring to be your type

I met family, I met friends

memories of night spent together

you and I and your blood.

It took months and months 

then you really started to warm up

by then an old flame was kindling

I could see your fire for me

building and growing

but alas at last

my kindling flame is now a roaring furnace

Now that you're starting to love me like it's your life force

I've packed my bags, ready to go

sorry if today I break your heart

but if with you I take the journey

our boat will take in water and someday capsize

for my heart you long to have

belongs to her who knows it not

how much it's worth to you.

Goodbye old lover...

Oluwole.

PLEASE VOTE FOR MY FRIEND!

She is in dire needs of your votes at this Etisalat Prize for literature. Please help us out.
 Here is the link:
http://prize.etisalat.com.ng/salvation/

TWO IS ONE, US!

We are two,a two that is one
one of a kind, two of a one.
As you are the female me,
I'm the male you
two of a one, one of a kind.

Great things comes in pairs
two in one, one in two
I'm the left to your right
you're the right to my left
or is it vice-versa?
None can have it better
'cos one in two is two in one.

Seeing your smile that first time
I knew you were 'the' one
one of the two that's now our one.

The complete half of you's me,
and you's a complete one,
the other half to our one
You is me and me, you
a two that is one, a you and a me.

Two sides comes each coin.
And If life were one,
you and I, stuck on either sides.
We'll still be a one
yet we'll be two.
The only two types of a one
the only one of the two.

You and I, Akanke

Two of a one, one of a two
living proof of Cupid's expertise
his bow and arrow, shot once, got us two.
You are me my love, I'm you still
and if this were some love story
we'll be the both sides of the story.
The other me is you, the other you is me
with our love, seamlessly fusing
two now is one, one now is us two.
MW...
Oluwole!

PHOTO CREDITS: google.com/images

THAT NIGHT WALK...

Come let's take the walk
down the left corner dark
there we'll lay and watch the stars
it's a breezy night but I'll warm you
I'll cover your body with mine
your lips will envelop all I have
as sighs escape the other
the soft breeze will ruffle your hair
caress our skins, goose pimples

When sated and spent we stare up
arms, limbs and heart all linked
seeing the stars winking in mischief
a welcome voyeur
breath will escape us in pants
as our hearts slowly lose its speed
both clothed in birthsuits and uncaring
then I'll ask you again
on bent knees.

The moon will catch the glint of the jewel
and just when you say a breathless yes
the winds will nudge the trees
they'll sway hither and thither
their leaves will rustle in encouragement
and the heaven will snap us a shot
with a flash of lightening...
Will you not come?

Oluwole

NOW WE HATE-XENOPHOBIA!

Now we hate, now we kill

cockroaches, vermins and all

dirty dirty rank ‘n’ file

kill ‘em all

rid us all of foul air.

Spare us the sermon

your condemnation fuels our engines

Durban is ours

save your lives and go back home

rid us all of your foul air.

We are blood-thirsty

this land is our life-blood

go home and live to tell

stay here and live to die

rid us please of your foul air.

Not today we won’t stop

tomorrow maybe if sanity comes back

our ample waists cannot go bare

for your own waists to wear our beads

go now so we breathe easier.

Fair skin or dark skin

caucasian or negro

this South nation is ours alone

we have done it before

we can do it again…

Oluwole.

PHOTO CREDITS: google.com/images 
DEDICATED TO THE MEMORIES OF THE VICTIMS OF THE INSANE ATTACKS IN DURBAN, SOUTH AFRICA...

WHEN WE LEFT HERE...

We were different people

not where we are today

our songs rang with harmony

fair haven, beating hearts.

But,

just before the sun went out

right when the words tumbled out

the world lost shape too

a journey of no return

Go, see the trees

stripped of cover and leaves

nude branches bathed in nothing

that’s where we now are

‘cos

with you went the sun

the warmth that clothes my naked frame

air seeped out, punctured tubes

empty minds, blank thoughts…

 Oluwole.

NOW THAT THE POLLS ARE HERE...

WARNING!!! THIS POST IS NOT SHORT


Fellow Nigerians, the much anticipated March 28, 2015 is few hours away. Few times have we had periods that have dire effect on the destiny of a nation, of the Nigerian people as much as this date. However, I dare to say things need not become as heated as it is.

If you are in the Northern part of Nigeria, you’ll be amazed at the exodus out of this zone by natives of other tribes and I do not blame them at all, the events that greeted the election results after 2011 is why we are here. This country is undoubtedly a blessed nation, but our blessing is almost if not totally our curse. Nigeria must be the only country in the universe with so much un-actualised potentials. And this is sad. Very sad.

Frankly, I don’t see why things should get this bad if as a nation we have always had our priorities right. Alas we never have been able to manage this small feat and we have certainly not been helped by the kinds of leaders we have been having for nearly over 4 decades.

THE LEGEND OF MONERIA

Moneria is a disease. A widespread disease.

It is global in its spread.
It afflicts just everyone I know. People I have never met and will never meet are not spared. It is such a potent ailment. It is not a small somtin oh, because the young suffers from it, the old have suffered and are still suffering from it sef. Should you care to know, even me, I wallow in it. I am one of its prime candidates. This Moneria has shown me pepper.

You still don’t know this disease? 
Alright oh, let’s go.
I invite you to follow me on this journey, by the time I finish describing Moneria, you’ll see you’ve for long been under its clutches.

When we were younger, we discovered that in the seed of a mango, there is usually an insect. We’ll lick the juicy mango till the seed is as white as anything you can imagine. Then we’ll set to the task of opening it up carefully and trapping the poor unsuspecting insect in a transparent nylon. Trust me, if you are able to successfully do this, you’ll be held in high regard for very few of us was able to achieve that aim. Did I hear you say we were jobless? I don’t blame you, those were some of the ‘trips’ we caught as young ‘uns because of course the onus was on us to find entertainment for ourselves not like the present time when internet, videos games and the sorts are plenty. If you were born in the 80s or perhaps very early 90s, you can relate very well. You see now, I’m digressing too much from my story.

As I was saying jare, even then we always wondered how the insect finds its way inside the mango. Till today, grown as I am, I still can’t unravel this mystery. You see, just like the mango seedling/insect analogy, so does Moneria disease apply to all human race, tribe, gender, religion notwithstanding. We are all born with it.

You’re still with me? Thank you jare. 
This Moneria disease is a very cunning ailment. It cannot be diagnosed by any doctor no matter his/her credentials and it defies any cure. However, depending on its level of affliction in someone’s life, it can quickly run its course.
In my experience anyway, most times, it is in the old and weak that you find Moneria symptoms near inexistent; in those kinds of people it has probably ran it course. 
Moneria disease can kill but it does that in a clever way too. It does not have the power to snuff out life, but it can cause the afflicted to willingly press a self-destruct button. It is a very unique disease I tell you.

You see my friend, Moneria disease is why you go to school and it is why you pursue with alacrity that high paying job. Although I earlier stated that it is a disease that afflicts every human, some people are more readily predisposed to its influences than some. They are the kind genetically wired to suffer more from this disease and this is just why some people suffer more from it. It is ironical but we live for it, it lives in us. Did I mention that Moneria is very powerful? It can cause quarrel between father and mother, husband and wife, boyfriend and girlfriend, Pastor and church members, between friends, between siblings, colleagues… in fact, the list is endless.

Wait oh, if by now, you still don’t understand what Moneria disease is, then your case is probably worse than mine. Moneria disease has finished you. I will help you don’t worry. As long as you are in need of money for whatever reasons you conjured up, you are suffering from Moneria disease abeg. 
Fullstop.

Oluwole.

I REMEMBER!

I remember that day

distant, yet near at once

it was colder than a dog’s snout

chilly even

you smiled at me, called my name

sweetened tilt from honeyed lips

and suddenly I became warm.

It was easy to love you

between the touch of your love

the whispered vows in heated gazes

words that tumbled between escaping sighs

I fell into the stream

drowning happily

like backstreet boys

I didn’t see it coming

I stab I can endure

a plunge into the back, no one can

I writhe in agony

as life slowly ebbed away

robbed of my heart and care.

Oluwole.

MEASURED...

The stealthy flow of the tide

turpsy and turpsy curves

tilting here and there

measuring time and yield

Everyone with two accounts

one filled, one empty

time and yield

Like hour-glass it runs

time employed or not

its yield shall grow voice and speak

the strange metre of life

The run cannot be paused

its hands cannot be stilled

it runs its course… 

Oluwole.
PHOTO COURTESY google.com

OUR FRIENDS ARE HERE AGAIN !

The circle is near completion

the path to our huts is now well trod

our walls wear their smiling faces

they looks so good

their words looks good too

but we know better

because

suddenly we’ve become friends

it happens every time they need us

here they are knocking our doors

they come in flowing raiments

our rags barely hide our bums

as usual, bearing smiles and gifts.

Last time they were here

they preached the gospel- CHANGE

effortlessly, promises jumped down their lips

if we didn’t know better

we would have been taken in

because

in our hunger they fed fat

its four years already,

they want four more

now they are back knocking

with foods, money with promises

of change change change like conductors

haggling with passengers  in a lagos bus.

Last time one of our friends had no shoes

our sympathy we freely gave

in addition to the luck he’s had

and down the lane is a sorry sight

a sad tale of a lost people

because

last time,

our friend the Khaki man lost the polls

in holy tears and bitter anger

he made us promises of chaos

and for years after his words

by the day the death toll increases

some bombed, some kidnapped

but he has braved the elements

‘cos today he’s here again

like a chameleon in a different colour

he’s a sheep in wolf’s clothing

a sad tale of lost people.   

Oluwole.

WHEN ELECTION DRAWS NEAR!

I am hardly who you can call a night-crawler. The few things that keep me out at night would be hanging out with friends or days of Champion’s League football matches. However these days, the urge to stay indoors at night is more pronounced. It is because election time is here again.

Election is hardly a friend to the Nigerian masses and yours sincerely is one. It is a time characterized with perpetration of several heinous acts. Need I say that hooliganism and thuggery becomes amplified, vandalism and destruction of properties tends to happen especially between supporters of opposition parties, ritualistic killings also become very common. It is therefore not wrong to say that strange things happen a lot in election time in Nigeria.

Sometime in 2012, I escaped a kidnapping attempt. I was final year student in University of Benin and it was few days from Edo state gubernatorial elections. I escaped that day partly owing to my vigilance and all the learning I picked up from the street while growing up. Most of my hostel mates were praising my ‘sharpness’ when I narrated the event but frankly speaking I believe it was my mother’s prayers that stood me in good stead. Many a person weren’t so lucky and they became victim of election period.   I often wondered what would have happened if the road was not too busy for the driver to pull off in acceleration as he wanted to do or if the central lock had not made a loud ‘wack’ as it was activated but I am grateful to God I am here to tell the tale.

It is often alleged, most politician indulge in fetish activities to secure the mandate of their people. It is always in the rumours of the steep prices they pay to achieve their ambitions.

So when you feel like going out someplace and you will be returning too late in the night, please be watchful and be careful. If need be, pass the night at your destination. Elections is less than two weeks away and less than savoury events tends to unfold and many a citizen could go missing again.

Oluwole.

MEMORIES...II

Looking at the night sky

stars winking in mischief, crickets chirping

lounging by the patio

dipping my cup into your memories

drinking my fill

beside me, ripen buds.

A scent wafts, your scent

purple petals, juicy nectars  

here I hear the jangling goblets

of that night before you left

under the covering of the night sky

we bared our heart and limbs

Come back to me Eniti okan mi yan

sing once more with me the lovers song

so I can watch the curve of your lips

reminiscence of our last kiss

the last time we made magic

before things fell apart.

Oluwole.
ENITI OKAN MI YAN-The one my heart has chosen 


Pictures courtesy google.com

SHALL WE SING AGAIN?

Shall we speak again

that they may hear?

Shall we heap our spite?

Perhaps they’ll hear and fear,

they who auction our future.

Handed down from fathers to sons

like playthings that lacked its own will

end to end, in circles chasing tails.

Or shall we just sing again

that they may hear?

Shall we go on our knees in prayers?

and sing for them verses for their doom

that in the house of five, five be dead

and one more be dying, till their air

is riddled with rot for smell.

I say we sing again

on one knee we’ll say the lines

bearing headless cockerel spurting blood

that not one of them shall remain

no internment, no gravestones

if swollen on food meant for all,

then swollen in death, filth to filth.

Oluwole.

THIS POEM IS A SEQUEL TO ANOTHER POEM TITLED: OUR FRIENDS ARE HERE AGAIN!

AN OPEN LETTER TO THE APC PRESIDENTIAL FLAGBEARER, MAJOR GENERAL MOHAMMADU BUHARI.

Dear Sir,

Compliments of the season to you sir. How is the presidential campaign going?

Sir, I commend your tenacity and undying commitment to serving your people. Such display of courage and determination is born of stuffs of legends and brings readily to mind the erstwhile president of the United States of America famed to have lost eight elections before he emerged as the president eventually. I am sure his name has already crept into your thoughts sir but for avoidance of doubt, he is no other than Abraham Lincoln, the 16^th President of America. His persistence knew no bounds. But sir, you cannot but agree with me that you do not have enough years left to break his record. Furthermore sir, between you and me, it is really nothing worthy of emulation. It is usually better to bow out when the ovation is loudest. But then who am I to dare suggest you were trying to emulate him?

AN OPEN LETTER TO THE PRESIDENT OF THE FEDERAL REPUBLIC OF NIGERIA. HIS EXCELLENCY, PRESIDENT GOODLUCK EBELE JONATHAN

His Excellency,

Happy new year to you Mr. President. I trust it met you in high spirits like it met me.

I promised myself a long time ago to write you sir but I am happy it took me this long to fulfill this promise as it could not have come at a more propitious time because as we both know sir; you are busy trying to get re-elected. Permit me to state sir, that I encourage you to seek the mandate of the Nigerian people once more, the past six years haven’t been so easy, everyone can see you need four more years in order to set aright the very few anomalies that has bedeviled your administration. I would likely do the same too if I were in your shoes so I appreciate that you took a little time out of your schedule to read this short letter of mine to you sir.

Your name sir is a peculiar one and I am sure you have been told that times too numerous for count. But sir, I hope you are as concerned as I am that lady luck may be cheating on you as she seems to be ready to elope with someone else. Perhaps it’s time you wore a new look and hone your wooing skills yet again before the situation readily defies redemption.

Let me state for the record sir that I am anti-PDP. However, let not your nose wrinkle in disgust as yet, should you care to know sir, I am also anti-APC/ACN/AC/ANPP. I will let you in on why sir, Nigerian political parties are denude of party ideals. Hardly can one be differentiated from the other, nor the players in the arena. For some of us watching from outside, there is little distinction between a bug and a roach which includes their relative sizes. Some of the common features they share is that they are both dirty insect, pests, harbingers of discomfort, they favour operating in darkness and are harmful to human existence and health. The analogy immediate above bears much in semblance with the various political parties in Nigeria hence the reason why shifting camp comes relatively easy and is actually encouraged.

MEMORIES...

It’s time for bed

I’m holding my pillows close

memories flood my thoughts

of you lounging and evading my gaze

smiles dancing in the corners of your lips

watching you try hard to ignore them.

My hand touched yours

you shifted yours away

and then I know

you could feel the currents too.

I remember my glimpse into paradise

when on my lips yours were fixed

and it was that time

I noticed my heart beating together with yours

thumping in rhythm

it became clear I’m stuck.

That time your head lies on my chest

when pleasant sigh escaped your lips

I felt it too

as contentment seeped into our bones

dreams coming true.

Vivid memories won’t stop dancing

wriggling in abandon through my thoughts

born of your lingering essence

left on my pillows

and here I am , sinking delightfully into it.

Oluwole.

Pictures courtesy of google.com

A VOICE FROM THE HILLS-BAGA!

We were flowers at our prime,

our scent wafts around,

the songs we could sing ,

the harmony of our shores,

the ease of our world.

The grim reapers came calling,

uninvited,

their sickle shine brilliantly

it flashed only once

and its shine became dulled by our juices.

Some were budding flowers

the pregnant were not spared

our nursery lost its glamour

story of land razed to ground

from the shores of our land

When you see our Jona

tell him he’s done us well

when you see our turbaned lords

tell them our voice is gone

and no more will it ever be heard.

Oluwole.

Pictures  Courtesy of bbc.com

THE gods WILL DRUM AGAIN!

The time is nigh

the gods will make music again

each time,four years apart

its time to dance and/or be gored.

The gods will drum again

music of the deadly feral gong

filth to filth; death to death

the clock-hand draws closer.

Different twists goes the rhythm

some to death in rallies

some to death by assassins

some to the end by rituals.

Four seasons ago they struck their sounds

their drums resonating

from the East of the Northern shores

blown to bits, one after the other.

Last time the gods had their party

children were stolen from the huts

sold to slavery, sold to sex

from the hills the staccato rings.

The gods are wont to drumming

and drum they shall

listen not to the poisonous symphony

lest you be stung or worse.

Of what use is a warning

when fate has wooed ill for some

they hide not from the resonating pulse

in that, they condemn more to mourning.

The gods are making their drums

it never announces for good

and if heed is not taken

at the next s-election, the gods will drum again.

Oluwole.

ANOTHER THURSDAY

Its the 86^th thursday

again I get to drink-in the sight of you

and see again the sparkle of your teeth

when you smile across the table at him.

Every thursday I wonder what he says

that brings that glitter into your eyes

and the laughter pealing boundlessly from those lips.

I’m green with envy

Take your eyes off him for a minute

bless my face with your stare

smile again towards me

I’m always at door duty every thursday.

That will do me just fine

till thursday is here again.

Oluwole.
http://wolespeaks.blogspot.com/2015/01/happy-2015.html

HAPPY 2015!

This is to wish everyone here a Happy New Year.
Wishing you a greater year than the last on all fronts.
We apologise this is coming a bit delayed...