black gold

MOTHERS

MOTHERS ARE GIFTS
FROM ALMIGHTY GOD
ANGELS ON EARTH

SENT TO DO
HIS MOLDING WORK
AND NURTURING WORK

THEY BORE, DELIVERED
THEN PROTECTED US
WITH A SHELL

GUIDED COVERED US
CRIED WITH US
PAINED,WITH US

NUDGED US UP
TENDED THAT FLOWER
TO BLOSSOM,SHINE

IN HER BOSSOM
SAD OLD EARTH
NEEDS MOTHER'S TOUCH;

MY VOICE PROBLEM

The sound of my voice has always baffled me,
always sounding higher than I want it to.
It has put me on the hall of fame list for noise
makers in secondary school on more times than
I could count on my fingers and toes.
Although, I suspect the list maker has this tinge
of jealousy colouring his judgment
because my name not only tops the list of noisemakers
It also tops the class list, making my teacher
to give me that “He can be salvaged look”.
Then there is this problem of everybody knowing my secrets.
I bet there was a time when I thought people knew
exactly what I was thinking, or was it the time
I thought my phones were tapped.
I just caught the culprit recently, guess who?My voice!
I will be whispering my inner secrets.I mean inner sanctum secrets
to someone, with the normal assurance
that it is safe. Alas!
I was actually broadcasting.
Or was it the time I had a conversation with my uncle?
I kept noticing that there was something amiss,
but did not know what it was.
I was wiser when my mother called me aside
and told me never to insult or shout at my uncle.
Poor me! I was bewildered.
I had tried different means in the art of containment and curtailing,which on some occasion had been both internal and external.Like the time I used a rope to tie my neck and scrap at my tongue.i dumped this novel and noble idea because both conspired to kill me.Dangerous world you might say!Imagine a rope and a spoon conspiring to kill a grown man.Times have really changed!
But don’t go off thinking that I have always had it bad.
There certainly have been positive occasions .
Like the time a delusional group thought
i was a visiting professor.I had an ecstatic twenty four hours.
What gave me up was my small size.
May be ,I will look for another delusional group
or better still pose as a small sized but
big voiced professor.
The peck of the new office won’t be that bad.
But that means I will have to join ASUU,
in their fight with the long necked president.Poor me!
Perhaps, I should stop talking and start writing
That has a little problem of its own.
How do I practice my medicine without talking?
Poor me!

A CONFUSING MAZE OF MORALITY AND VIRTUE

The young man had to wake up with a start. As if he was stung by a bee. But the flashing pain he had experienced in his stomach could only come from one source,Hunger!He wanted to shout how bad his lot was when he noticed that his best friend and room mate in medical school was also awake.
“Perhaps his case is worse than hunger “,he thought. Both of them had to go through the remaining part of the night gnashing their teeth and groaning, praying that it get to morning so that they dash to mallam’s to increase their indebtedness to him.
Alas!,Mallam had gotten used to their pranks and tricks. He saw them coming and sniffed out their intentions. Of course, he started closing his shop. He met them in their track and with a twinkle in his eyes and a weak smile on his face he told them the bad news of going to watch a Nigerian match in the ongoing world cup qualifiers .How Mallam wants to watch a match that comes up at 4pm by 7am was difficult to understand. They got the message all the same. On their way back to their room, they saw a crowd beating a man whose offence was stealing a stick of corn.
The above scenario is played a million times in our country, community and society. Ours is a society that has gone mad.Probably, caused by a protracted era of military dictatorship. A society that does not reward hardwork.One that does not have heroes, icons to look up to, where, being a “yes man” is the key to survival and “no man” a tag for disdain and even a mark of death. This society prides itself in putting square pegs in round holes, with worshiping of money that makes even the devil hide his face.
Let us ask ourselves, these questions? If a group of the best minds in the society could go through such harrowing experience, what will happen to the lowest of low? Will they be excused if they are driven by hunger to do what they had not intended to do? Will they be excused by society or even their conscience, if they do what they have been thought all their life not to do?Afterall,this society allowed a man who stole billions of Dollars to walk free, while another was imprisoned for stealing a piece of corn!
Will they be excused if they direct their vengeance at a society that had not paid attention to their grooming and nurturing and thus their present state and station in life? Will they be excused if they head dysfunctional families that will bring forth street urchins that will continue the cycle of vengeance?
Worse still! Will they be excused if they rob God’s house because they have the full knowledge that the supposed man of God is not one?
Alas, what we will excuse and not excuse as a society becomes a hazy muddle because we have thrown our morality, norm and virtues to the dogs. Pity

SEE SUFFER,SEE WAHALA

I SIT WITH MY FRIENDS
LAUGHING,CRYING,JOYFUL
MY FEET ON THE GROUND

THE WATER COMES
OVERFLOWS MY PORCH
FLOODS MY ROOM

MY POTS ARE AFLOAT
MY CHAIRS ARE MANGROVE
MY BAGS ON MY HEAD

NOW I AM ON THE ROOF
MY FEET IS HELD HIGH
MY FRIENDS HAVE TO RUN

SEE WAHALA,SEE SUFFER
I HAVE TO LAUGH
BUT MY HEART WEEPS

IN COLLABORATION WITH ISOBOYE BROWNWEST

IBADAN

Dusty rooftops shimmering
in the midday sun
like a face wrinkled with age
with deep gauges and networks

within these networks
Nature calls
beckoning a people filled
With zest and life

People that celebrate knowledge
kept on a high pedestal
Oh dusty rooftops
Shimmering in the midday sun

My appointment with thee
Shant be the last
Shant be the last