POEMS READ AT LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 5 EPISODE 1 "GENESIS"

DEARLY BEFORGOTTEN  (POEM OF THE MONTH)
You were my darkness before the light
My dusk before the dawn
You were my seed before it grew
My embryo before the bump
You were the boy I made a man
The girl time bled into a woman
You are my ijapa turn muscle
My thousands turn million

Dearly beforgotten, though this race is won
And your embrace was a familiar one
I am taking this moment to remember
Yes I choose to fan those embers
For indeed beforgotten, you gave me my present AND my future

DOLAPO POOPOLAThe Virgin Poet ©2013
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I AM HUMAN!
Please allow me introduce myself…
I Am Human!
I guess that should say it all,
and end this freaking poem.

But I see that look...
That look in your eyes.
Yes you, your eyes.
As your brain goes to work
behind those pondering eyes
trying to decipher my intent.
So I shall not stop yet
till your curiosity is stuffed.

Even before inception,
gathered around me,
was a great crowd of witnesses.
While I was yet a murky amoeba,
they scanned and spooked me
checking if I was...
A he, a she or an it.
Alone, a twins or a Siamese.
They forced my still forming heart
to play weak melodies
to gladden their hearts.

From birth,
they belabour me
with yokes of expectations...
Suck bobby only for 6months,
then pap and cerealac,
but don’t suck your thumb.
Start crawling at one,
walking at one and half,
jumping and running at two.
Oya say “dada"
Oya say “mama"
Oya say “bye-bye".
One letter word,
two letter words,
three letter words to Z.
One plus one,
two plus two,
three plus three ad infinitum.
Go to church,
when pastor says "praise the lord"
you say "hayyeyuyah!".
On and on they try to pound me
into a perfect little doll.

From an amoeba to a grown man
these witnesses do not dwindle,
and the yoke of expectations
gets heavier and heavier
with each passing day.
You dare not trip and tumble
or they will be
Disappointed
Embarrassed
Sad
Cheated
Deceived
All of them!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Fathers
Mothers
Siblings
Wives
Children
Friends
Pastors
Teachers
Bosses
and a million others.

They all expect perfection.
"Be this, don't be that"
"No! No!! No!!!"
"Not that way, this way".
"Don't tell a lie...not even white"
"Don't stare at booby or arse"
And the cacophony keeps rising in my head
"Be a player...NO...Be a good guy"
"Drink...NO...Don't drink"
"Smoke...NO...Don’t smoke"
"Don't give head, but take head"

A vein bursts in my brain!
Blah-Blah-Blah!!!
Sharrap y’all...Just sharrap!

Let me be free to be human.
Don't box me up
in your mental cage
while you roam free.

I am human!
I am no divinity.
I am not perfect
neither will I ever be.
Even the divine flaws sometimes
or was Lucifer not once
Heaven’s muse?
I do not strive for perfection
I strive to be human
I strive to be better.
That's all that I hope for.

I am human!
Sometimes I’ll stoop low,
kiss the green grass,
make love to the brown earth
and rise again stinking of shit!
I am human!
Sometimes I will so
fall, fornicate and fuck-up.
Why do your lips part?
shut it before you catch a fly.

If I ever fall short of your expectations,
I owe you no apologies.
Deal with it!
If to err is human
and I am human,
then I shall err
God help you
if you think I’m divine!

TEMITOPE JOSEPH
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IT STARTS WITH A THOUGHTA thought flutters by
A quick glance at the sky
A magical glint in my eyes
Uneasiness that won’t go away
A feeling that something is at bay
But it just trickles down the drain
Damn…I need that thought to flutter by again

Two heads are better than one
Isn’t it sad we actually have none
Wise men say a stitch in time saves nine
So they stitched from five to nine
They stitched both yours and mine
Senselessly stitching the wrong way
They realized it and refused to say
They tried to turn confusion into an illusion
Hoping the needle would offer a solution
While they offered the bald the latest hair softening lotion
They offered the blind a free course on the effect of land pollution
If that thought flutters by we just might avoid an implosion

To read we were told we had to learn our ABC’s
But now there’s a bestseller written in Chinese
Thousands of people hustle to go overseas
They hustle to come back to the Nigerian dream
What’s the point? What don’t we get?
That damn thought hasn’t fluttered by yet

You look around and see all that is wrong
I look around and see lyrics for a new song
We might not be living the Nigerian dream
We still don’t know how to speak Chinese
The confused Stitchers now fight and bite
We just sit back, relax and write
For a thought just fluttered by again
And this time I had my paper and pen

ERHIO,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
NOW IS THE BEGINNING
I have often wondered
All I have is what I have been told
What I have read
And what I have discovered
As I grew older I noticed
All my opinion is formed
Mostly of what was handed to me

The norm is different
It is a bit hard to swallow
Go with the flow is mostly the feedback
When the naked shamelessness
Speak volumes of incomprehensible madness
Of what the norm is
Where most complain
And do exactly same

I have often wondered
The rush to learn
Mostly what is useless for real life
From the very day a new journey begins
A road map is drawn
The smartest and the richest
Are they the first to make Heaven?
I have often wondered

The beginning is the end in a ring
As the cycle evolves
Spiraling up or down
I will not be fooled again
I will make my choices from the beginning
Now is the beginning


IFEANYI OKWOSHA                              January 2014
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LEST I FORGETThere was a time we felt good about luck
If he can do it, you also can
So you carried the can with the tick of your thumbs
Then certain prices jumped
Now he carries your curse
At the expense of lost hopes
You are still not looking at yourself, you might actually be a lost soul
Albeit one of many
In other words, there are millions like you, millions aplenty
Lest I forget
His is a head black and shiny like a fake rocket
You might in the past have associated him with brilliance
He deposited all of that in a sinking think-tank
Now he yarns dust
Often tries to come first by trying too hard
Erections off the mouth often makes retards
Lest I forget
There’s a certain man, whose names spells a letter more than mockery
Who through the pen displays thuggery
And I know this might sound ugly
but when written words x-rays you as crude
then your thoughts are absent of food
so while your boss once went without shoes
you locked in a fight with wisdom and stupidity is advising you to abandon truce
lest I forget
the guy built up like a suspect
whose tongue re-shaped his prospects
he is just one reason
why refusal to save should be termed as treason
a stiff neck, thick voice, rude but polished demeanor
means he can do more than just talk and abuse
lest his heavy weight is just pumped up refuse
he should lead the presidential guards
lest I forget
these few thoughts are not in jest
your misdemeanors are so many
you inspire forgetfulness
your incompetence is legendary
there’s not much polished grammar can do
except if certain wives take lessons in proper pronunciations and compositions
and I wouldn’t dare forget
the beginning of the countdown
y’all disaster clowns should soon be leaving crown…

AKEEM OYALOWOJanuary 8, 2014
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,TALK ABOUT GIRLSLet's talk about girls And their dainty spells. Let's talk about them Like we talk of our priceless gem. Let's talk about the damsel- Whose heart was our lone cell.

We will talk up in our dorm and their subject our moment's rum Getting our lungs filled with love's fantasies Basking in the aura of feminine charm Every words said a healing balm.

Let's talk about girls And their undaunted love Let's talk about beauty Entwined in masculine duty.

Let's talk about the girl As we hallucinate of our wedding bell. Talk of how she makes you smile And how she drives you nut for a while

We are young and prime A talk about her isn't a crime. When the day seems tense And you seems to have lost some sense Talk about the girl you love Whose arm is your resting place.

Let's talk about girls Her dark hair and sparkling teeth The smoothness of her skin- And the dimple up her chin.

Talk, before someone else does Implore this moment to her or through the door she goes. Tell us of how to love you fall And how on bended knees you proposed it all.

Talk about girls Talk about the love she bore. Talk about girls, Talk about her love the more and more.
MUYIDEEN
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A WORD FOR NOW AND THENAsk not how last year has gone
Ask not how this year must go
Make your plans and pray to God
That this year be nice and sweet

If any plans this year you make
Let it be for humanity's sake
Put all feuds inside to death
Bury it deep inside your earth

Let this oath into your heart
That your art your heart must speak
Don't you care for fame or gain
Nor for good rhymes in verse

Let your words grow deep within
Forge it till it shines and gleam
That when sown in ears to hear
With grateful hearts we cheer your name

Let generations praise their gods always
That such your soul was born to be
Such a world your words do spin
Of dark or lovely sights boldly sewn
CHISOM,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,                                             THIS IS NOT A SONG OF SORROW
He had sons to fire the gun
Daughters to wail when his mouth was closed.
The affairs of this world were not like chameleon feces into which he stepped.
When he cleaned it, it went.
He sat on the front row with the eminent.
He went beyond and was not forgotten.
The rain did not beat him.
The sun did not burn him.
The firewood of this world was for him.
Because he took heart and gathered it.
Inspite of some difficulties the world was good for him.
He travelled and many times came back.
Came back covered with accolades.
Inspite of all the evidence to the contrary his great household still stands.
The tree on which he leaned is standing.
And the trees in the fence are termite resistant.
Things have not fallen apart.
The center though rather shaky is holding.
Your people will find a certain measure of ease because the arrow of God
Comes with a tail of white feathers acting as a flag of truce.
And true men and women of the people will arise
To move the beloved nation forward.
And on the anthills of both the savannah and the desert the vestiges of good governance will be established.
We live in hope.
And our counsel to the soul brothers is to beware.
Brothers do not quarrel.
And even the girls at war have called a truce in the interest of the country that is.
And the answer you gave to the trouble with Nigeria is still the starting point of all our discourse.
By your lives and your words you both let the light in.
We are glad that you passed this way.
ANDREW ODE,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
LET ME TAKE YOU TO THE BEGINNING
Before Bob
and Whitney
Before the weed
got the best of Marley
When Eve turned
leaves into Bikinis
An act that
equals feats
performed
by
Houdini
Let me take you to the beginning
 Before Jobs
Ate
The
Apple
That caused
Cancer
Before Zukerberg
Invented
his weapon
of mass distraction
Before CNN
Became
The tool
For creating
Mass hysteria
And Twitter
Became the Magic Mirror
For
Self Delusion
Let me take you to the beginning
Before
I began
Reading
This
Poem
AJIBOLA,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
WHAT KINDWhat kind of life is this for a child?
Neglected like a cob without a corn on an asphalt full of potholes of staggered hopes.
 Living like a derelict
Even though he's been fed from a woman's hand this morning.
 Playing pawn to peddlers with purple face.
 He's the crab down the food chain, slipping
God's happy leaves into pockets of the children of the most high.

I'm just the eyes behind the louvers of a project Window.                           
Snitching, committing a crime on the street -writing a poem about this infant peddler who has been misled like a sheep with a skunky herdman.

Imagine all have seen and penned down could be chopped and shoved into paint tubes.                             
And squeezed out in colours on a palette.                                                 
Take a canvas, paint a perfect picture, step aside.                               
Critique the details, blend the strokes, step aside ,put a frame and hang it on the wall of a gallery            
with flocking art heads committing lookery, muttering under their breaths 'it's cool, its beautiful.
 I love the colours'.                                              
 Forgetting the part of the child           
 forgetting it's a plague, abuse and shame to the social order.

So what kind of society will let a child like this slip from her back?

HAVALANCHE