4. BASTARD
They are bastards
These black artists of white mind
Lost their eyes, ears and heads
In the scramble for western pottage
Their paintings a grotesque
Devoid of African spice
Of black myth and valour
Doubly amorphous
Rorschach’s inkblots.
These bastards
They say I lack the eyes to see
And the passionate nose to smell
My eardrum blocked
To the music of their batted canvas
I say it is tasteless, spiritless,
A hen’s scratch on sand.
4
5. These lost sheep
Look at African art contemptuously
But their master, Picasso
From whom they pilfer
Was inspired by African heads
They copy Picasso
And become his shadow
They detest blackness
But they are black
They detest Olokun
They shun Obatala
They are rude to Orunmila
They become shadows
Apes of western show
These African bastards
Who show their father’s house
With the left hands.
5
6. NO MORE WORD
Leaking basket
Betrayed billions of words
------Harbinger of lies--------
One word
Minced sowed and smothered
In fertile ears
Ought sprout green on fecund hearts
And grow roots and bear fruits
In billions of folds
A wanton dog wandered way- ward – ly
From his master’s leash
-------- A wanton dog lost in a wanton snare-------
He pawed banana at the market square
A wanton dog crushed by a wanton god
6
7. Any rancid swagger
Deaf to popular lyre
Courts thunderstorm
------- Bottled fumes do become furious
Battered meek do become ferocious
When grain – less hen perches
On supple rope ease fades out---------
7
8. ENCOUNTER WITH THREE NYMPHS
I
saw one
in the dew – drop
of a wet morn
inside her fluffy nest
a floor of polished brass
she offered me
And
I said no
For it was not doing me
Like sleep
I
Met two
In the gold ray
Of a warm noon
Amidst the verdant growth
A mat of golden fronds
8
9. She offered me
And
I said no
For it was not doing me
Like sleep
I
Held three
In the moon- cream
Of a cool night
Before the giggling stars
The cleft of her luscious chest
She offered me
And
I said yes
For it was doing me
Like sleep
And
Deep down in that sublime sleep
I heard the quivering lips
Of the giggling stars
Sing the annunciation
9
10. Of the birth of another priest
A priest whose sceptres
Are the drum the pen and the palm nuts.
10
11. THE DRUMMERS’ DRUMBEAT
The slimy snail killed
Our king’s hunch – back
So the drummers drummed
The four- horned flesh gorged
Our king’s only eyes
So the drummers drummed
The drummers drummed
Their drum of intrigue
At Obatala’s high altar
------ Whosoever killed the king’s hunch – back
Shall serve as Yemoja’s cold meal
At the frothing riverbank
Or Lakaye’s hot lunch
At the blacksmith’s shed
Or Egbara’s lukewarm dinner
At the three footpath junction;
The snail has killed
The king’s hunch- back
At Obatala’s high altar
The snail shall serve as
Yemoja’s cold meal
11
12. At the frothing riverbank
Or Lakaye’s hot lunch
At the blacksmith shed
or Egbara’s lukewarm dinner
At the three footpath junction
But the drummers are not our king’s tongue
His highness must have his regal say
-------- Whosoever Killed
The king’s hunch- back
Shall receive regal honours
His head shall wear akoko leaves
His body shall wear alaari pleats
He shall hold the regal horse – tail
And ride in the king’s entourage----
The drummers forgot their old song
And composed again a new song
------We killed the king’s hunch- back
We prostrate for our honours
Our heads shall wear akoko leaves
Our bodies shall wear alaari pleates
12
13. We shall hold the regal horse tail
We shall ride in the king’s entourage-----
The regal police rounded them all up
And lakaye had a heavy sop.
13
14. ODE TO THE WAILING DRUM
Gongon
You the reincarnate of ayan tree
The resurrect of sacrificial beast
Your eyes, wide, penetrating like opele tray
See into the deep groves of grumbling spirits
The rhythmic echoes of those weird- looking strings
Baroquing you naked juicy breasts
Like the heavenly dress of igunnuko
Are the sonorous voices of rancoured deities
Of neglected ancestors in the gloom
Of spirits vexed by their prodigal son
Gongon
When ayan in acrobatic gait grabs
When kongo in ritual kowtow touches
Your skin irritated, your eyes red
And your spiritual mouth cries, wailing
In baritone chant proverbial rhythm
The foolish in the shackles of tasteless beer
Wriggles like fly that falls in deep red oil
14
15. Not able to fly, not able to dance, not
Able to understand the esoteric sob
The wise, in palmwine wisdom, nods heads
He has drunk deep the ripples of olokun
Drank palm wine and salty blood with ogun
Dined with the patriarch, orunmila
And understands the proverbial echoes
Of the dead, of immortal black spirits.
15
16. RESOLUTION
So
the fig
is plucked
the fig
is eaten
i won’t
outchrist
christ
who cursed
a fig tree
for its figlessnesss
i would wait
patiently
i would tender
caringly
for the efflorescence
of another fig.
16
17. NOT FOR GOLD ALONE
My peers once quipped
( pushed by the logic of crass materialism)
--------- What crisp notes
Has he to count
For his obsession with numbers--------
I ruminated
------ I have
Neither gold
Nor silver
To show for this lofty
Business of numbers
I have
The halo
Of palm nuts.
17
18. ILLUSION
The poetic eyes see the wonders of the world
The poetic mind marvels at their worth
Colourful flowers, butterflies and honey bees
The starry stars and their constellations
Litter the azure and dazzle like diamonds on ebony ears
The caressing glow later become biting blaze
The poetic eyes red, searching for almighty’s face
Sudden darkness, glorious shower
Thunder drummed and clarinets clattered
Poetic mind engrossed in the greens
The mushrooms and the climbers that creep
Sheep bleated, lion roared
Man born helpless, immature
Poetic eyes closed darkness in the city.
18
19. PHANTOM
Like a wanton bitch
She came to me
Sniffing me from head to toes
When i touched her
With my inflamed nose
She began to giggle
But when i ‘tempted
To dance the cosy dance
that showed in her limpid eyes
She breezed away
19
20. PARABLE OF THE BABUWAS
If you see the babuwas
With bums big like zuma
Do not frown
Do not think they suffer
From elephantiasis of the scrotum
For they are merely answering
The beck and call of their stomachs
If you see the babuwas
With mane like the lion’s
Do not think they’re man – beast
For they are merely answering
The gibberish of their stomachs
If you see the babuwas
Bedecked in layers of multi- coloured rags
------- an ugly copy of the chameleon’s
Do not laugh
Do not think they have run amok
For they are merely answering
20
21. The tom-tom beat of their tummies
If you see the babuwas
Break dancing, beating iromi to its game
Do not wonder
Do not think they love the pains of wriggled waist
For they are merely yielding
The clang and clangour of their entrails
For we are all like the babuwas
With bums big like zuma
With manes bushy like lion’s
With rags coloured like the chameleon’s
Dancing, wriggling to the gallery
Of the buyers of our fake wares.
21
22. EDIFICE
I look at you all over
And you flash you teeth
Glowingly like sunlight
I look at you all over
And you swing your waist
Gracefully like moonlight
It is not to detest
But to attest
That I look at you all over
Contours and crest
This twin – balusters
Of your front – yard
So splendidly erected
Their jingles are like belfry’s
Beckoning me to the gallery
Of a master- hand
The gothic threshold
Of your courtyard
So assiduously engraved
22
23. I can’t wait to traverse its loft
That bay of your backyard
So opulently baroque
I behold it is there our world revolves
I look at you all over
With thought not impure
I only revere
The strokes of the rare sculptor.
23
24. AUSTERITY
Austerity
Spouse to scarcity
I implore you take leave of me
You who pounded yam in gbegbe leave
And cooked okra in peanut shell
Millions partook in your prudent meal
Hundreds become satiated
Millions become frustrated.
24
25. ENTRAILINGS
They persuade for a spouse
An assured social forceps
To climb the pyramid of life
The entrails tattoo
Against the white – wash
Of cam wood of approval
That touches far ... far
Not beyond the skin depth
The entrails protest
Against the hawking
Of soap – vendors
The entrails whine
In sympathy with the pocket
For its dearth of cowries.
DRUM – TEARS
softly
25
26. my drum
softly
your cry
softly
my drum
softly
your tears
do not ooze yourself dry yet
when the maidens’ pots are yet unfilled
softly
my drum
the stick hits gently
softly
my drum
the sticks greets caressingly
do not cry yourself hoarse yet
when the moonlight has just appeared
softly
my drum
26
27. the stick beats hard now
softly
my drum
your tears well up now
softly
lightly
cautiously
dripping
the
witches
mother
is
dead
softly
my drum
the stick beats painfully
softly
my drum
your eyes red stressfully
which mouth shall tell
that the khaki pocket
is soiled with oil
27
28. softly
my drum
the stick beats rudely
not borne of disrespect
but of unbound mouth
of a youthful mind
that long to say
all that eyes see
softly
my drum
show your rhythmic grace
yeepa
must you call them vermin
call them scavengers
conmen who call the thieves to despoil
and call the owners to arrest
conmen who sing the thieves songs of escape
before the owners arrive their farms
must you call them scavengers
call them vermin
28
29. you town – crier
what
my drum
what shall you call them
our teachers whose mothers
were witches
but wait
whatever you call the vampires
who parade as teachers
in verdant khaki
remember
one drum that sounded too loud
just yesterday
when drum stick beat too hard
just yesterday
the drum was badly torn
just yesterday
caution
my drum
29
30. caution
or how shall we treat the vampires
who stand us up at fang point
I DESERVE YOUR PITY
In the land of poetry i sought you
30
31. Orunmila and i with searchlight equipped too
Where did we not scoop among the constellation?
The search made with meticulous elocution
Orunmila saw your footprints and taught me poetry
Poetry arouses passion, intellect and reality
Like whirlwind you showed with sympathy
Orunmila grumbles, what a lukewarm empathy
I shuddered and took consolation in a footpath meeting
But no footpath in a crowd’s rattling
I implored the cyclone of telepathy
To bare my restless mind with emphasis
Among the lilies and roses i peeped
I saw colourful butterflies and not bid
Took a protracted look at peahens
Odumare save, i didn’t perish in vain forest
And one misty morning in ebony forest i found you
When the birds in protest refused to sing
The animals for want of warmth stayed in caves
And the wind was still the trees refused to bow
The river between us numbed my nerves
31
32. When an odourless face was shown to me
An odourless face with high a neck
And a body- gait mighty and high
Sneering
Sneering at me, a poor fool of nature
I heard your psyche, i heard its songs
I heard its beats, i heard your tongue
I heard your villainous psyche proclaim in silence
---------- i have won this psychological war-------
The vanquished be a cadaver for all you care
But i deserve your pity in a wane love.
DANCE OF THE FICKLES
La La Laa La
32
33. They sung their specious songs, the sophists
Tom Bam Tom Bam
They beat their spurious drums, the casuists
The fickle danced to the tune of illusion
And become frenzy before the flute of deception
The sophists sang in falsetto
The casuists beat incognito
In frenzy the fickle danced
On their heads a veil of trance
Like mosquitoes thirsty for blood
Or bloody bugs that stick to dog
Sophists stuck to fickle’s bodies
With suction- pipe dipped in veins
The fickle wriggled as if in pains
While casuists blew soothing balm
And ate deep into flesh of rams
In pains the fickle yelled
Like birds in groan they fell
Gasped for breath and for bread
33
34. But the rats still hopped around
And the mosquitoes bit around
December,
When ferocious hunters came
Rapacious rats ready not for the game
Met in the relish of fleshy booty
Sucking mosquitoes became panicky
With ease rats were rounded
In peace mosquitoes wings maimed
Fickle awake from marathon languor
Yawning in praise uniformed saviour
HALT! HALT!!
No spurious song to dance to
Nor specious slogan to blow
Ferocious hunters clamped on them all
And the fickle minds became empty
At the noon of the fantasy
And they longed for the sophists
And they clamoured for the casuists
To blow and beat and bite.
34
36. Alas
I have gone to Osa to launder
I returned home
Without my jumper
My eyes oozed water
Profusely, profusely
Alas
I have paddled to Osun for fishing
Alas
I have paddled to Oya for fishing
I returned home with a rotten fish
My body shivered
Violently, violently
Alas
I have walked to Ila for palm wine
Alas
I have walked to Ife for palm wine
I returned home with a broken gourd
My throat gasped
Thirstily, thirstily
36
37. Alas
I have gone to Iginju for hunting
Alas
I have gone to iginju for hunting
I returned home with a fetid squirrel
My stomach rumbled
Hungrily hungrily hungrily.
COCKTAIL BANTER
A brother, dear in thought and in poetry
Broke once, when caught between the webs
Of the scourging flame of philosophy
And the sensual tinge of profanity
Precious porcelain
37
38. ----------- Should a wise cock make a peck for corn
Amidst hot coals-----------
A bouldering pelt in the ocean tide of my wine
His broken porcelain
I offer
------------ The cock that pecks complacency
Only in the grains of known ground
Lives a life impoverished of knowledge
That which glows also in the grain of hot coals
Courts death opulent of experience
Better to die of opulence of knowledge
Than to live in poverty of experience
Sweeter to drink hemlock of philosophy
Than to eat honey of profanity
As my bawdy gourd.
JACKSON’S SYNDROME
Give to me a chisel and a hammer
Call for me a tailor, bring a pliers
My nose too black for my black face
Let me have a taste of aquiline nose
Absurd?
38
39. Nonsense
White I’m in mind
Black my hide
And what’s absurd
In a white mind
With a white nose
On a black hide?
It is Jackson syndrome
Uncanny novelty in uncanny world
A man looked at his hair, kinky
Uttered disdain
Looked at another man’s, silky
Total longing
Rushed for palm oil
For pepper
And for salt
With these condiments equipped for a frizzle
Conflagration as his hair sizzled
Burnt scalp
Bald head
Goat’s hair
39
40. All is Jackson’s syndrome
Uncanny novelty in uncanny world
Let the spotted leopard
That shows disdain for spots
Be soaked in burning oil
Let him become de- leopard spot
Or de- spotted leopard
Let the unproud lion
With mind transsexual
His mane be barbed
Let him become de- mane lion
Or de- lioned mane
Let him be sapped of manly juice
Let him become yolk – less lioness
De- leopard spots
Or
De- spotted leopards
De –mane lion
Or
De- lioned mane
Symptoms of jack son’s syndrome
40
41. Uncanny novelty in uncanny world
THEIR DISEASES DIFFER
She brings her porous chants
To cause ripples in the oil-peace
Of her homestead
Woman of hundred books
41
42. She strums new slogans
Stringed behind her spongy ken
Woman of hundred books
She is the female spider
That looms large over her partner
Woman of hundred books
Her man folk run for dear life
From the carcinogens
Of her frothing fancy
Woman of hundred books
Yet woman of hundred books
Dead to the sniggers of her soul sisters
Blinded by the toxin of her own clamour
Basks in the water- surge of her own grandeur
Pontificates on a ponderous snap
Of macho – cast shackles
She clamours for
A man- baby- sitter
A man- baby- feeder
42
43. A man- baby-singer
A man whose soft servile songs
Makes the baby sleep, the woman free
She clamours for
A man- food- cooker
A man-dish- washer
A man who garnishes so tastily
For her to devour so hungrily
She clamours for
A man who shows dexterity
In the wash of dirty panties
Who are her followers?
Who are her admirers?
Not the soul sisters
Who commit hara-kiri for husband’s pleasure
Not the soul sisters
Who rest on two knees
To serve husband’s delicious meal
Not the soul sisters
Whose joy of womanhood
Is found in baby-making
43
44. Not the soul sisters
That sweep the floor
And split the wood
that make mighty mounds
That prop up the roots of bulging crops
Not the soul sisters
Too eager to play the ridden horse
That welcomes the fuss
Of whipping twilight
Woman of hundred books
Wants a man-dish – washer
Her soul sisters
Wants a man-bed – warmer
They are like monkeys and vultures
That are not alike in their festering sores
Vulture is bald on its head
Monkey is bald on its bottom
They both need soothing balm
Of the physician.
44
46. Till
The scales
Fell
And dawn dawned on me -
I
a mere fool
Riding
On
A cockroach’s back
TRANSIENCE
I, sentinelled
In the drizzle
Of a time
Wet----------
Like a drake
46
47. Without a nest
Trembling ----------------
Like a lily
At stream- side
Till you beckoned
And gave me shelter
In your dome
But
When a deluge
Chased the drizzle
And the sky hounds
Sanctioned the chase
You chased me out
Into the cold.
REQUIEM
The well wrought scale of Rectitude
Smelted in the furnace of impulsiveness
Sword of Aurora
Recast into swagger sticks
Archetypal voice of orunmila
47
48. Choked with treasures from mammon
Hydra- headed Octopus
Decorated with sceptre of Obatala
Rectitude himself
Murdered at the high altar of solipsism
Situational ethics
Adorned in the toga of currency
Behold! Yesterday’s Barabas
Proclaimed as today’s Kristi.
AMAZONOIDS
At the freedom square they all gathered
In various colours in various hues
Some in skirts that wept for blouses
Some in blouses that cared less for boobs
Some wore trousers that made men stagger
48
49. Some held cudgels to maim only flies
Some held bows with arrows to shoot
Some dressed trenches to swallow archfiends
Amazonoids
Gathered at freedom square
Eve- wits
Asking for freedom
Cudgellers of flies
Asking for freedom
Shooters of darts
Asking for freedoms
Dressers of trenches
Asking for freedom?
The songs for the bedroom
They sang at boardrooms
‘of friends that had stayed too long on top
Fiends that felt not what
The back- ache does the nymph
When the baron is on top thumping hard
49
50. They gathered
At freedom square
Waiving cudgels
Maiming flies
Chanting solidarity songs
Against the fetters
That the masculine world
Has cast
Amazonoids!
MANACLE
Muezin’s allaah...........
Imam’s fatiaah............
Ladani’s amplification
Jaamoh’s genuflection
Lumutu drops a cadaver
50
51. Ladani turns a scavenger
And imam recites mantra for mammon.
FLASH FLIES
(1)
Ayandele tell them
With the mouth of your drum
Tell those who yearn to walk
But detest to crawl
51
52. Tell them
There is no short- out
To the lofty neck of the palm
(2)
We are the prodigals
Who ate with ten fingers
Under the glow of their festive sun
And now that the festive sun has set
Here we are
Trying the knot of cocoyam leaves
To enrobe our naked public
(3)
There are many knots
My child- like eyes could behold
Many knots
My child like mind could untie
A woman’s cunt on a hawker’s tray
Is one knot
Beyond my child-like mind
52
53. (4)
The breath, that fresh breath
Breathed into a people
Who have genuflected too long
Looking skyward for their bread
Breath breathed into them
By bods who cherished salvation for their folks
Breath breathed so they may this time
Look bad crowns in the face
That fresh breath is now decreed foul breath
By taskmasters
Who have their ways with the gun.
CONDITIONALITIES OF LOVE
So like IMF
Love too has its own conditionalities
It took me so long a time to know this.
I first thought you accepted me for what i was
--------- a poor village teacher
53
54. Who lives on nine naira and fourty kobo
(victim of our warped reward system)
But two takes solace
In turning out brains; graduates
Who may one day breeze back to campus
In sleeky cars like
Benze
BMW
Daewoo
Lexus
Pajero
Or any other flashy coffin
That moves on four legs
Experts who may one day look down on their village
Teacher and his nine naira and fourty kobo income
With disdain------
I thought you accepted me for what i was
And it ment much to me than you really could know
But one afternoon
You brought your own thesis
That lagos is where opportunities abound
Where we too could catch the silvery smile of fortune
54
55. Where like corporate masquerade i could wear tie with
Bright plumage and cuff links and tie clips and braces
And suspenders to match
And we too could ride our own sleeky car like
Benze
Bmw
Daewoo
Lexus
Or pajero
Or other elegant coffin
That walks on four legs
I gave consideration to your thesis
And i started to beg to apply for dubious jobs
In dubious establishments
I applied as chief messenger to the MD of a backwarding coy
And also as an executive market researcher in another coy
That goads people to buy what they may not need
I also applied as an expert liar who can wrap lies
In golden papers and as community relations officer
To an oil scavenger whose gluttonous phallus has defiled
Some communities’ virgin land
I begged to apply for all kinds of odd jobs in all kinds
55
56. Of odd companies to please your thesis
As luck would have it
All my prospective employers spoke with one voice.
That i may not be needed in their dubious business
First i have stayed too long
In the noble profession of turning out brains
When the experience they wanted is manufacturing lies
Second i have stayed too long in the village
To know the Wiley ways of lagos and port- Harcourt and
Other big cities where fortune smiles in generous ways
Third i have become the dry fish whose back may not bend
To learn new tricks
So one evening when you treated me like a failure
And chased me out in the cold
I then realised that love like IMF
Has its own conditionalities.
TYRANY OF LOVE
Funmi,
When i had not met you
I was a person who could work
And eat and sleep and wake
Without the thoughts of love
56
57. Then you came
And sowed the seed of love
In the fertile soil of my heart
And i became a man
Whose work and sleep and awake
Depends on the thought and touch
And care and caress of you
And when i become so used
To the thoughts and touch
And care and caress of you
You uprooted the shoot and planted it
In a strange heart
And i became a man
Who keeps awake by
The thoughts of the loss of you love
11.3.94
3:15am
57
58. TALE OF A POPULAR GRIOT
A griot
Pregnant,
Heavy with
Baby woes
Stripes
58
59. And
Swaggers;
Ravisher
In
Verdant gown
Raped
And
Poured
Syphilitic semen
In
His bum
Griot
Courted
With four fancies
Bared bum
Like cheap homo
Unaware
Of two jokers
Dangling below the belt
Bomb dele
And
59
60. Fuck the griot
Sap the masses
And
Fuck the griot
Lock gani
And
Lock wisdom- house
And
Fuck the griot
Lock wisdom lips
And
Fuck the griot
Pain
Not pleasure
Now the wriggle of the griot
In labour pain
Griot pumped heavy
By sadistic cock
We wait
Chin in palm
For the birth
60
61. Of his cantankerous fume
SFEM
The giddy peacock
Pawns his plumage
At the market of fox
He has sapped off fear
Of egg- drop syndrome
61
62. And coccidiosis
Of aspergillosis
And the plundering hawks
That hover from the west
Eleven peacock feathers
Now exchange for a crow’s
Indeed the phoenix
Has found his peers
In the market of death.
RUMINATIONS ON THE TWELFTH MOON
The twelfth moon
Has shown its snow- white teeth
To bless the maiden toils of lovers
But here i am still gropping, still hoping
62
63. If only your coquettish smiles
Did not entrap
If only your flirting
Did not deceive
If only the diamonds in your eyes
Did not attract
If only the fires from them
Did not warm a cold hearth
If only your bright plumage
Did not raise a comb
If only the rules of your game
Were down to earth
I’ll not still be bending at your post
Toiling, mincing and smothering the seeds of feeling
63
64. In the infertile soil of your heart
This twelfth moon, i’ll not be at your post
Waiting, hoping to harvest a leafy feeling
Planted eleven moon ago in your heart
(2)
If i have the wings
Of an eagle i’ll fly
Fly, fly from your snare
I’ll fly from you
Over the niger
And the nile
I’ll fly Limpopo and Zambezi
I’ll fly to touch the gems of the sky
I’ll fly away from you
Over the meditarania
And the red seas
I’ll fly over the atlantic
The pacific and the Indian oceans
I’ll fly over the Victoria Falls too
I’ll wrap my body
In the warm velvet of the sky
64
65. If i have the wings
Of a dove i’ll fly
And free myself from your snare
But why......
Why fly at all
When i know i’ll return
To still plead for your love
(3)
Why so cold
Like the soup in aluminium pot
Why so deaf
Like the boulders of ikare hills
Why so unfeeling
Like the wind from sahara
Why so unyielding
Like the loins of iroko
You who were graceful like the gazelle
65
66. Why have you become so conceited
Like the snake
(4)
See what you have
Remoulded me to
A mere rhymer of love rhymes
I have sacrificed
The vibrancy of my art
At the altar of your pride
Loud voice
Powerful rhymes
Poignant rhythms
Conscious themes
I have lost the biting strokes of my quil
At the altar of your pride
I have tempered anger with love
.......... are you so deaf
So callous
So unfeeling
Won’t you listen to my song still
In the glow of this twelfth moon?
66
67. (5)
So self- centred
Like the cyclone
So sorrow- striking
Like earthquake
Your inconsideration
Burns like fire
Your coldness
Spreads pneumonia
If Eve was
Half cold to Adam as you
They would not have populated the world
With their love
It is the twelfth moon already
When will you turn a new leaf?
(6)
And you too
The twelfth moon
You too sniggering at me
You too chorousing with eleven moons
67
68. To mock my misfortune
And you too
The twelfth moon
You too refusing me your pity
You too joining the eleven moons
To dance at my failure
And you too
The twelfth moon
Laughing at my folly
You too tangoing with her
Because i mistook
These glazed leads
For diamonds
And you too
The twelfth moon
(7)
Moon
You sit down there smiling
But why is your smile
So gay today
Is it to mock
My going home downcast
68
69. Like a vanquished in a fence
Go on, open wide your silvery teeth
And mock my dropping head
And my broken sword
Mock my shredded sheath
And my broken shield
Mock the wound i incurred from fencing
Mock my manly quality
So unmanly as to lose in a fence
Mock my poor manly quality
So little to fill
The thimble of our junior eve
(8)
Obatala
You are a failed artist
Your art is not inspiring
This one mistake you commited
Has removed the rhythm from your canvas
Why did you paint
69
70. Her head with sand
Why not experiment
With fried cassava grains
Then the movement of your work will show
As i pour the hot water of my feelings on her head
Obatala bring yourself down from mountain ife
And learn a thing or two
From my mortal strokes.
70
