POEMS READ AT LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 5 EPISODE 12 "DONE"

COCKTAIL – POEM OF THE MONTH

Falling rings of fire

Turning and spinning

Revolving round and around us in circles unending

The grit of our labour flies to waste

In the similitude of a white smoke

Rising up to something

Never amounting to anything

The cackle you hear from us is not the stuff of happiness

Birthed from the pangs of subsistence

We have forgotten how to cry aright

We just bare our teeth

When the heart in us starts to bleed again

The man of sorrow is not our neighbor

He is a denizen of our heart

Warming himself from the fireplace glowing within

He may have to stay forever.

Graffiti on a wall

The sorrows of our heart

Is our constant art

On this we work daily

Showing up smiles where there shouldn’t be any.

With imaginary spray paints

We have learnt how to craft

Conceited paintings

Our daily workmanship

We drip from the gloss of our own art

When sorrow we give a new fad

Inverted in the mirth that swims to surface

Taught how to live a disguise

We have mastered the art of self-deceit.

Our rations are but tiny crumbs

Handed at the fade of every thirtieth

Not quite by hand

The mail screams a ping to alert us

We look at the screen with a mixture

Mirth and gloom

A familiar cocktail

Stuck at the base of this project

Life has refused to be built

Our shovels have all gone to waste

Torn and worn from over-use

Yet we still have not dug out the foundation

On which the structure will be built

Which our fathers passed away on

Fussing and gritting to erect

Yet life refuses to be built.

                                                                      CHUKWUEMEKA

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ENU KINIUN L'OWO WA (MONEY IS IN THE MOUTH OF A LION)

I came across the words

Beautifully inscribed on a rickety Molue

And beautifully drawn on this bus

was a lion with wads of notes in its mouth.

Hmmm...enu kiniun l'owo wa

Who dares the king of the jungle

And escapes unscathed?

But what could a lion want with money

When we humans strangle ourselves to get it?

Why would a lion prefer to eat money

While refusing to hunt down animals?

Enu kiniun l'owo wa,

Irun mu l'owo ko se fa tu.*

So I looked at the rickety bus

The lion and the wads of notes stuffed in its mouth,

"To get the money, the lion must die"

But what if the lion refused to die

And the hunter became the hunted?

What if by one blow to the jaw

And there I laid torn apart by its paw,

Would this not be a futile chase?

This was my mind fiddling

While i try to read meanings to the message.

The Lion depicts difficulty that surrounds life

And the money in its mouth depicts wealth,

To get the wealth, man must go through life's difficulties,

Which he may or may not survive.

Man must arm himself with great tools

Lest he be devoured by the beast,

He must go through countless struggles

And make great aims.

Enu kiniun l'owo wa

Wealth is not so easy to come by.

*irun mu l'owo ko se fa tu-Moustache is likened to money not easily pulled

MUYIDEEN AYINLA

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I FEEL
I feel slimy
Like an eel
Hating myself so much
Much for debasing myself
To submitting to that disillusioned reasoning
I must be deluded myself
I feel
I feel great for the self liberation
That I am driving at of late
I feel
I feel
I feel so terrible for resigning to fate
At an early stage
Mindless of what age mates were doing
Now in my state of liberation
I walk head high
Better than them crack high headed dumbos
I rise above
I rise above all the untruths
That characterised my youth
I feel
I feel elated
I rise
I rise above

ILUPEJU ADEBAYO

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HOPE OR LIES?

Now why would I or anyone else bother to tell you
That the grass is not greener on the other side?
When that depends on if the grass is white, silver or blue
And we know sides could change just like any tide
I’m not going to tell you I always came first in class
But anything below 85 still means me kicking your …
Now saying adults never lie is … true in most cases
a) never b) not... Instruction: Always fill blank spaces
Don’t get me wrong
These are not lyrics for a song
Life is not all beds of roses and thorns
Life is not all angels or devils with horns
Life is not even about knights in shiny armour
Just forget all those stories you heard from Miss Gamo
Life is a race, a journey, a game
White, Silver or Blue the rules are the same
 We all laugh, cry, smile, sing, dance and die
The sun never leaves the sky so why bother to lie
Our lands in bad shape, actually really very bad
Come 2015, things might also get pretty mad
Yeah the grass might seem greener on the other side
But don’t forget there might come some changing tides.

Erhio

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I REST MY CASE

Because my case needs rest

Like a crying child taken over by sleep

When kicking

You would wonder about the scene in his dreams

Yet he is a child

What will he do with pictures

Where will it take him

I rest my case

At the sea’s bottom

Flung into the open by the winds

Exposed by what their pictures depict

Constrained by a future they predict

Chained by a prophecy

Acting the property

Afraid of accusations of behaving improperly

I rest my case

With the matchbox

Colors and adornments

Shapes, sizes and absent matchsticks

Contents confining darkness

I rest my case

In surrender

To mental plunder

I rest my case

Buoyed by your serial blunder

Led into the pit

Followed by poor souls

Whose memories of you could have been fonder

Than this reverse abundance

I rest my case

After each macabre dance of shame

For which you only seem to play your music to

I rest my case on the plains

Open arms, racing feet

Scared of defeat

Scared into the arms of victory

Clasped therein, knowing this wasn’t all down to me

I rest my case

Let down by man, much loved by men

Sullen town at dawn, still being risen by hens

I rest my case helplessly crying for help

Tireless in my yells

Unable to make any listen to a wailing soul

Yes I didn’t do this because I’m just left with empty bowls

I rest my case

At the base of the triangle, pillar holding the shape

Wishing there could be an escape

From a life full of cases

From common breaths constantly racing

From errors one can never erase

From reigning men who deserve to be disgraced

I rest my case

Dazed

By days racing to pro-create

Same pain, same agonies, often repeated disharmony

I rest my case

Tickling the chains which ties me

Untying the ties which binds

Yet to be proselytized

The bombers are yet to be identified

Cause of slumber, glorified

Slowly arriving at the truth or in denial

Using falsehoods as bait in our desire

Praying for empires without knowing the seeds

Calling for celebrations while growing weeds

I rest with oily lips crying for dryness

With stillborn grandkids victimized by our unfairness

I rest my case with a song

Love notes from where you ought to belong

Rivers flowing with honey

True love is never without its longings

But always find a resting abode in this lodging

I rest my case

Stained

By the weakness in the meaning of rest

Realizing all mortals take rest and risks

Those known and those multiple unknowns

I rest my case

Arrested by thoughts compelling rest

A man complained of being lonely, they told him to get a wife

death seeping in slowly, yet we call it life…

 AKEEM ADETAYO OYALOWO.

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EBA

Who is happiness?

If I am yet to see her glow

On my tenacious face

I speak of her

I think of her

I pray for her love

To shoulder my many troubles

I sit down to eat noodles

With its carrot and peas to fill

It is not my food

But the food of a distant land

I have not met

When I think of it

I know that Eba and Egusi soup

Takes as much time

My love for the exotic hinders my mind

I want what I do not need

Obstinate to what I have

It may be expensive

But how can I compare Noodles to Eba

Surely I am not loyal

OLUWEMIMO BONUOLA

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DONE

The deed is done.

It is a well-cooked deal.

If you do the deed you will feel the power.

That is what Goethe said or was it the American one.

The one who wrote about compensation and over compensation.

When all is done more is often said than done.

The commendation is not well said or well heard

Good and faithful servant.

But well done!

When we get down to brass tacks we find that they are made of rubber

At the end of the day the day ends.

In the stock market, past performance may not be a predictor of the future.

But in life what you have done speaks with a loud voice.

Wields a black thorn stick.

Frames our regard.

Determines our disregard.

He said it was done

Both Tetelestai and Megaphune.

Perfectly perfect

Completely complete

Complete in every aspect

Complete in every respect

And all done in mega phonic loud voice

And with symphonic conviction

ANDREW WHYTE

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FULL CIRCLE
As the door to this room gently
Comes to a close
The next room swiftly shifts into vision
Mama said don't grow up so fast
She never said why
Now she knows
 The clock ticks away
In its usual fashion
Oblivious of the flurry of
Activities man takes in stride
 Yet time is all that
Determines all
Time is
Into time we rush
To come full circle.

KEMI BON

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THE EAST

I will tell dee Benai that

Now we are done

The east is now the least

Swallowed in the belly of the beast

Shadowed by the bleary mist

Eaten up by pests

Going to ruins in haste

CHISOM