Friday 12 July 2013

POEMS READ AT LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 4 EPISODE 7 "PLACES"

FESTIVAL OF DEATH
Ask for the moon
And I will wrest it from the heavens
The lovers tongue boasts
Like these crazy drums beating like a bitch in heat

Insolvent joy reeks from this festival of death
Voices impregnate the atmosphere
To the joy of the heavens and earth

O the joys of death!

Food massacred for death
while i watch my cholesterol like a hawk
Like  the white man's devil pitchfork in hand
Death does not frightens me now like
our own demons
my greed wrecks  like a bull in a porcelain shop
As the weak mouth succumbs
To the strength of the eyes

like a man who married many wives
Whose heart perchs on many lives
My tongue flirts with many grubs
As we celebrate this festival of death


CHISOM
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CONVERSATION WITH SELF

Will I for once and always be that which at the end is the wise?
 For all its worth, is the price attached
 When will my heart guide my head?
And my heart and head guided by my infallible intuition

Let the truth be told,
Somewhere inside if not dead, the grain and chaff is separated
I have listened and decided not to be confused
But I dare say, often time I deceive myself
For knowingly I yield to my weaknesses

I sow and reap, that I know
Aye how beclouded and stupid I was and still am,
For I sow not the best for my worst enemy,
Myself obviously
For the harvest will be multiple of the seed

How I try in every possible way to find the easiest short cut out of a realization,
That nothing is lost and must find its origin
Like a blazing flame knowing that the night is near
I make choices with my thoughts, words and actions
For the sleep of the lukewarm becomes eternal,
A slip into nothingness

I converse and search in places not outside but within
For I need to get to places I have been before and forgotten
And the places I left unconscious to hopefully return conscious
This will be the beginning

 Ifeanyi Okwosha July 2013
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KAKAMEGA AND OTHER PLACES
Kakamega- where I first discovered that poverty had a peculiar smell
The Greyhound bus station in Jackson, Mississippi
 Where I saw the ugly underbelly of the American dream.
Mumias where the people were victims of the sugar produced in the area.
Atlanta, Georgia which I did not see as I was housebound
No car, no movement
Birmingham, Alabama seen from the window of the Greyhound
All tiled roofs and stucco buildings
At least that is what they appeared like
Martin Luther king’s homestead
Yakima, Washington small town of big contrasts
East side, West side
Drug dens, drive by shootings
Big middle class dwellings
Amphetamine capital of the state or so it seemed
Yazoo city, Mississippi famed for Zig Ziglar and the redhead
Glen Allen, Mississippi- big house, slave quarters
Drug heads and welfare queens
All reminiscent of Mississippi burning- the movie
Places- geography is destiny or so it has been said
Machakos, Thika, Kericho, Nakuru, Kisumu,
Busia- Kenya and Uganda, Nairobi
Places- leaving implants and imprints
Determining destinies and direction!

ANDREW ODE
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LAGOS
Busty and chaotic
Beautiful and bold
Daring and motivating
A contrast in the mind of most
Everyone always in a rush
Rush honestly for nowhere
For all time is killed on the road
Yet another day births a similar routine
All in pursuit of nothing in particular
Nothing for the most
For some are wise
Wise enough to lie in wait
Waiting to show you how to be wise
Likewise,
Others lie in wait
Waiting to show you how foolish you are
A reasonable few
Wait to tell you how to go
Often never letting go of you
A beautiful place it is
Funny enough
Where the educated
Hustle to serve the Un-Educated
Oh! Lagos
Ilu ogbon
To ba duro ko sora
Shine your eyes
Too many things are happening at the same time
Ma sun lo
A land purported to be recessing into ruins
Yet remains the rallying point of innovation
Home to the cleanest environment
Yet the dirtiest have their abode within
You lost the captainship to another land
Yet the ruler cannot go without your consent
You rule,
Directly or indirectly
Deny that as they may
Do you not know that if we shut this land out the nation will crumble?
Oh Lagos!
Your force of attraction is so high
That he that hates you keeps coming to you
Eko ooooooo
Ilu ogbon.
Ilupeju
July 2013
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HOT SPOT

I am not as popular as Billie Jean
Nor as prominent as Englands Queen
But looking at all the places I have been
All the landmarks of history I have seen
Mixing with the Creme de la creme
Most times in my sweatshirt and jeans
I have had my own fair share of the scene
The world at my feet, my cup filled to the brim

Back in the days when I was still a tiny tot
When Lagos was very humid and very hot
London was considered the favourite holiday spot
So Central Station and Heathrow became my cots
Now all we hear of is three thousand pounds
Nigerians don't like the way that figure sounds

Now Paris made us turn all prim and proper
Crockery and Silverware no room for brass or copper
The French loved to dine with a lot of table wine
Though I must say I thought finger foods were just fine
The Eiffel tower, Champs-Elysees, the Arc de Triomphe
What more could mans eyes want
The fashion scene is one I never understood
I kinda loved the dress sense of those living in the hood

Yeah I was one of those who dreamt of the American dream
I found out later that the United States was not what it seems
The Statue of Liberty actually looked a bit tired to me
So I went to the Museum of Modern Art to see what I could see
Finally decided that if you really wanted to be happy and see real art
Take a trip to the Rockefeller Center or better still Central Park

Now China almost became a bit of a bore
Identification processes made my eyes sore
But I learnt that once you didn't get into any fights
You could find delight in their historical sights
The Great wall of China...eat well and go there before one
The Terracotta Army...pray if they wake up you're long gone
Beijing, Shanghai, Hong Kong, Tibet
Places you can never ever forget

Now in Italy was the Leaning Tower of Pisa
And Mexico had the Riviera Maya and Chichen Itza
I could go on and on and on about Spain
But offer me Hawaii and am definitely on that plane
Not going to South Africa didn't feel quite right
It turned out the Sun City Resort was a glorious sight
But you know what they say...there's no place like home
The only place in the world you can eat out and crack bones
Yeah you could say Lagos is still a bit humid and very hot
And its a crazy place to be but definitely my favourite spot

Obodo Erhio July 2013
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DANCE OF A MASQUERADE

There at the market place
Onlookers gathered singing the masquerade’s praise.
A visible ghost about to get loose-
Held by its companion, from fleeing like a wandering goose.

The masquerade yearns to dance
Swaying like a drunkard it needs this one chance.
Bells hung on its cloak
Cane in hand seeking a ferocious stroke.

Gloves strapped to the hand
Gins poured as libation for the gods of the land.
Cane drums banging rhythmically loud
Acrobatic flips to amuse the crowd.

The atmosphere was livid
Revealing steps so staunch and sordid.
Soon whips like rain were loosen
As the masquerade’s companions get crimson.

Hats or caps are being despised,
Whips were used on those chastised.

Ara Orun; a progeny of the heaven
Veiled by its cloak from mortal haven.
Grumbling incantations strange to our hearings,
Offerings first before the masquerade find its bearings.

Songs accompany the wailing drum-
As the air was doused with burukutu the black man’s rum.
Jolting back and front towards the musing crowd
As the song grows eerie loud.

The masquerade sways like a possessed
Shouting to the crowd; “you are blessed.”
Buttocks gracing the sky,
Hands spread like a bird ready to fly.

Is this man or spirit-
Whose charm had enslaved the street?


(C) Ayinla Muyideen

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REFUGEE
The starlit night gave nothing away
It was the way he walked that
Caught my eye
Stealthily
Mother was regaling us with a story
Of daddy’s award dinner
He was the star of the night
She said
His suit cut to the skin
He was to give a speech
On the success of his reign
As the Chairman of the company
He made me so proud
Said mother
Just as I was thinking
That he was walking closer and closer
To our minivan
Stuck in traffic
On the bridge
Mother’s laughter tinkled
The glass shattered
To The baseball bat’s
Not so friendly pat
It turns out
All he wanted was
A warm bed at night
And food
And maybe a shirt or two?
Why didn’t he ask nicely?
Mother’s broken lip
My swollen cheek
Are the marks of a refugee’s rage.
He sought refuge in our resources
But he didn’t thank us for it
And his rage grows
He’s a refugee
Fleeing from the terrors of the street
He’s a refugee
Can you see him everywhere?
We harbor them here
They come in droves
They are refugees
He will be back
They come
To take more than
We can give.

Kemi bon
JULY'S PEOPLE

If only you saw this place,
the moment before the house-gun went-off
and life became one death race;
there was no place like it.
You needed to see the town
and the country lovers,
trailing Friday's footprints;
O! You would have loved to come again tomorrow.

Once upon a time,
just before
the jump,
the loot
and other stories;
there was an occassion for loving,
but all that now lays six feet of the country.

It was before the lying-days,
before ours became a world of strangers.
Then,
when
our dirty linens were not for publication;
the world wanted to hear my son's story.
Not of sooty escapades on the mines,
nor of life times under apartheid;
but of the Burger's daughter,
and a sport of nature.

There was something out there
for July's people.
'Twas not just the essential gestures
of politics and places.
But that was till we harkened
to the subtle soft voice of the serpent;
yea, till we met the wily face-to-face,
and enrolled in his correspondence course,
to keep our idle selves busy;
and say something for the time being.

But who would have remembered,
that Beethoven was one-sixteenth black?
Maybe just a few of us,
the black interpreters;
we who after the first cycle
became the conservationists.
And these days
some would say to us,
'Please go get-a-life',
claiming that we are in a new era;
and we will often reply,
what new era would that be?
SOONEST NATHANIEL

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MY FATHER'S WAY

I warned her
Several times, I did, Sir
But she didn't listen
So I gave her a lesson
The way my father
Dishes it out to my mother

OKU-OLA PAUL ABIOLA (pauldesimple)
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ALMIGHTY’S FORMULA  (POEM OF THE MONTH JULY 2013)
Who has discovered the formula to calculate God?
Cos I sure would like to know it
Yesterday it was to fight, as His kingdom suffereth violence
Today, it is to stand still and see His salvation

Who has discovered the formula to calculate God?
Cos I sure would like to know it
Cos yesterday the preacher told me it’s my turn for increase
Two days later, a termination letter was all I had

Who has discovered the formula to calculate God?
Cos I sure would like to know it
Cos yesterday He told me to propose to sister, as she’s His will for me
But today, sister is with another brother at the altar

Who has discovered the formula to calculate God?
Cos I sure would like to know it
Cos Tina who had five abortions conceived on her wedding night
But I kept myself virtuous, yet remain childless after 10 years

Who has discovered the formula to calculate God?
Cos I sure would like to know it
Cos I was broke last year and asked Him for money and he provided the exact amount mysteriously
I was broke yesterday, I used the same prayer point and in the same prayer room, but received no kobo

Who has discovered the formula to calculate God?
Cos I sure would like to know it
Cos two neighbours each had sickle cell kids, praying for a miracle with the same fervency
One kid died while one had his genotype mysteriously change to AA at the age of 13

Who has discovered the formula to calculate God?
Cos I sure would like to know it
Cos sometimes I feel life would be easier
If I could only calculate what He will do next.
ATILOLA
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THE RACE
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Thank you yesterday for the memories
I'm grateful for the good and bad times
Thank you today for the present
As my heart races in time's ringing chimes

Each day is a race against time
Speeding on life's bumpy tracks
Gallops flinging our hopes left and right
Smoking faithless engine, blurry windshield vision

For some life is a marathon game
For others, a 100m dash
Trying to keep up with the guy in the next lane
Equating relevance to our stash of cash

Handing over our minds to the Mass Media
Conforming values with popular culture
Where are the times when beauty described character?
Where are the days when value was placed on culture?

We never stop running amidst turbulent tides
Chasing societal relevance at family's expense
Struggling to make our grass greener like the other side
Sacrificing the future on the altar of the present.

Our lessons do not come from getting to the destination
Neither are the victors those who win the struggle
For true lessons come from persevering the journey
and true victors are those who endure the battle.

- Michael Onobote

(July 2013)

Sunday 7 July 2013

THE NEXT POETRY READING IN LAGOS NIGERIA - LOUDTHOTZ POETRY READING SEASON 4 EPISODE 7 "PLACES"

The Loudthotz Poetry Open Reading Season 4 Episode 7 "PLACES" is on 11th July, 2013 6.30pm - 8.30pm @Orange Academy3b Adesoye mende maryland lagos, Nigeria. send your poem to loudthotz@gmail.com 2 read. Like our page on FB(independent Poets concerns) and add us as your friend on FB "loudthotz poetry" follow us on twitter @loudthotz visit our blog www.loudthotz.com/blogs