POEMS READ AT LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 6 EPISODE 7 "COMING!"

VICTORY SONG – POEM OF THE MONTH

Let my noiselessness be the only victory song you hear 
Let no red wine recompense 
The thicker red of my kin’s flowing blood 
Let no loud music further hasten the journey 
Of these souls to the depth of hades 

This war victorious 
Yet there would be no feast and no song 
Though triumphant, 
Our dead piles beyond the count of grief 
Even in victory the taste of defeat 
Blunt my taste senses 

War leaves everyone dead 
The killed and the killer 
The healer and the witness 
War leaves all dead 
Whether beneath the earth 
Or way deeper crushing beneath the memories 
Of a hundred thousand or so souls

HABEEB

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

COMING!

Ours was not a cold coming.

And we went quietly, not into the good night but into the flashing lights.

Coming into our own.

Coming of age.

And other National- Notional rites of passage.

Eating a bowl of salt grain by grainy grain.

Eating my cornflakes and being happy.

The breaking of the Hymen.

The cutting of the foreskin.

Going walkabout in the Australian outback.

Two men tied together with leather thongs

Slashing each other to bits with rawhide.

Coming to the mat

Proving manhood.

Satisfying the female.

Ann Moody Coming of Age in Mississippi

Moody by name, moody by nature

Berating the Kingly dreamer for his dreams.

Coming to the understanding that life is plastic.

Coming to America- the movie of neo colonialistic pretensions.

To America, their America

the book of unveiling of one man coming to himself

In thinking about a country.

The Gadarene swine coming to their porcine senses.

The Decapolitical mad man freed of his Diamonion.

All together now!

ANDREW WHYTE

//////////////////////////////////////////////////?

EPIPHANY

I saw, Mary Slessor killing twins
Margaret Thatcher picking beans
So, I asked..." is this hell? "
" No", they replied, "this is heaven"
But, how can you tell
So, they pointed at Mother Teresa
She was baking bread, without an oven
"How is that possible? ", I said
"Is that the bread of life?"
"Shh, silent your thoughts!", they said
As though I might wake the dead.

"let's call a spade...a shovel
let's dig this grave... with vowels
Please, let's empty this casket
Before, we bury this hatchet "
that was Carlos Castaneda officiating
at the mock funeral for consonants
Pall bearers were a dozen soldier ants
and there was the coffin
a book in an unmarked grave. 

I saw Tupac with that fella, Fela
rolled up joint, humming acapella
"By the rivers of Babylon
there we twerked,
when we remembered Zion"
It was a dark alley,
The only torch hanging out
Lies in the mouth of Bob Marley
As he attempted to speak,
A firmament of white clouds bellowed
"what's good for the booze,
Is good for the ganja"
"Is this hell?", I asked again
"No", they chorused, "this is heaven"
"But, how can you tell? "
They pointed to Che Guevara
draped on a cross, " Patria o Muerte"
I shouted," Am I dead"
"No", they replied,
"but if you die now, we will kill you "

I saw,  I see, I saw... Nothing

ADEOYA AJIBOLA

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

AFTER TASTE

That’s the work of memories

To provide tongue

To find new meanings for songs

To remember

To dismember the moment

And remake the pollen

Often done when lonely

Often we find our lone selves

Loaned a breather

Only for us to reverse the weather

If it’s hot

We turn on the heat

As if it’s been too cold,

If it’s cold

We shut down

And snuggle up to pillows

As if we are widows

Man loves the house

But cannot see his window

Air won’t be let in

Odors won’t be let out

A crying child with folded tummy

Was given tissue for wiping tears

We love to bribe the present

And forget sowing seeds, is life’s best present

Worry not about harvests

Find a farm, then you’ll be worried about a field and its pests

Or water to prevent dryness

And then the future will bear witness

And stand as evidence to your investment

Give me bread for my two pence

Money pricing the product

Values are priceless but were cheaply sold off

Two hundred girls were taken

Thousands more travel daily, with their parents’ blessings

 A loan is a sale, with a contract binding a future return

A price has been paid, formations become abused, and those who left aren’t same when returned

We are forever young

We are seen dancing, we love singing songs

We tuck in our worries and bid our mouths to talk proudly

At dawn, we’ll be seen prancing

Later to be seen panting

As if all along we have been practicing

Running with feet faster than an athlete’s

Sprinting with ease, at the pace of a trembling heartbeat

It was just a siren, but there were men

Seconds ago, the scene was serene but some lions escaped the den

They bared fangs, they roared

We heard noises, we ran

All that was left of me before then were constant yawns

And a belief in miracles but surely not one which saves me from servant-lions

Crayon for the child to learn painting

Colors are for the eves to complement their faces

Beatings are for men who have to be forced to learn their places

Purple thumbs are for everyone certified by law as able to choose

Even if values are on the loose

We are a hyper-nation

With potentials for greatness but stuck in hibernation

Some men stood by the river and saw a storm coming

Children kicked a ball around, so were already used to running

Till they became targets

Till their shooters talked, bereft of regrets

Till we rationalized their deaths having been fed by prejudice

If he is man, then he is imperfect, even if you name him Hercules

Brush found blood, couldn’t hence continue portrait

We all thirsted for change

Now that they have theirs, seem ours will be delayed…

AKEEM ADETAYO OYALOWO

///////////////////////////////////////////

AT LEAST I CAME

I was born in the slums
I grew up on crumbs
Through poverty I swum
My father lived on rum
The true hero was my mum
She beat the war drums
Sometimes my dad would hum
I just sucked my thumb
Eventually poverty went numb
We changed Kingdoms
My dad changed symptoms
The TV held him to ransom
My mum built a crayfish mansion
I ate from the tree of wisdom
We climbed higher up the stratum
Poverty’s funeral was awesome
Life became handsome
But the society remained irksome
So I entered the political gymnasium
It turned out to be a deadly aquarium
 I was born in the hustling millennium
So I made it to the top of the podium
Then I got struck by terrorists’ egotism
And foolishly I drank the Cabals valium
That was the end of my heroism
All that was left was sarcasm
Never ending torrents of verbal baptisms
But somewhere in historical curriculum
It has been recorded…despite the outcome
That I…did come!

ERHIO OBODO

//////////////////////////////

COMING COMING COMING

World I'm coming out of burden for real burning

And my poetry goes far as warning

Cos dark night is fast rising for morning

Lagos come watch me present my poem at loudthotz poetry

Here I come as you all waiting

OLAYIWOLA ADENEKAN

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

THEY ARE COMING

Like as it was spoken in Winterfell

Words are coming

They are coming

Words that leave men clueless

Give them sweet misery

Makes some lock the world out

Make them . . .

Say things they do not know

Realities too secret for finite mind.

Truths hid in the dark recesses of mystery

And they make a mockery of it . . .

Because they do not know

They do not know when words are formed

They do not understand the chemistry

That calls the things that are not as if they are

And make them become

They do not understand words spoken

Like fire from the bowels of the earth

All consuming all encompassing

Omniscient a “re-maker” of things that be

They do not understand of words

Possessed by the spirit

Voiced by the subconscious

Unfashionable in the conscious senses

Of finite beings . . . 

Because meanings have not been assigned to them yet

Just results.

Powers that can only be released by the

Right combinations of yet to be formed words

Meanings prematurely conveyed by the stammering

Of words from men’s spirit

Words! Words! Words!

That are coming and

That will always come

CHISOM

//////////////////////////////

HAPPINESS IS THE NAME THEY CALL HER

Excuse me dear friend, I would like for you to meet someone,

A meeting certainly you don’t want to miss;

Come! Come closer; follow my cue as I introduce you to her majestic influence.

Before you meet her, sit down and hear my tale of her;

First of all she is not for sale, so don’t offer her money.

She is constantly on display at the market square of life,
but you should know that by now, or can't you guess?

You can find her in the mirror at the absence of a frown,

You can see her face if you stop scowling at me right now,

She is present when the right couple says ‘I do’ at the aisle

Stay with me, as I spin you more yarn about her.

She will visit you on pay day, ready to walk you home,

She simply seeks a permanent relationship with you, can’t you guess?

She just wants to lay in your arms forever, please don’t say no to her,

 an easy catch she is yet her sustenance is your choice.

If you want to meet her, you must wash your garment with joy soap
for her palace rejects them who are clothed in worries,
your slippers must be crafted by Harmony the smiling cobbler,

Your scarf must be sewn by Bliss the cheerful seamstress,

Meeting her is like eating roasted yam with fresh palm oil and peppered sauce,

As the smile across her face reflects in her eyes.
If she could, she would scream and jump for joy when she sees you.

Knowing her is like the taste of Moi Moi with 5 lives wrapped in its native Ankara leaves.

Beware! for she is highly infectious, she is addictive!

She will con you into falling in love with her, even when you’re not ready

She will inflict you with the contagious virus called joy,

but please don’t try to resist her.

If she sings, forgive her, for she sings of your true self,
a voice she hears from your heart,

Listening to her song, feels like a sip of iced Zobo drink during the NYSC endurance trek

Please pack a full bag; she will want you so badly to stay with her, for she has a cure for Sadness and loneliness,

she is the antidote, she is the healer,

she is a phenomenon of grace, Happiness is the name they call her.

EUGENIA AGBAKWURU

//////////////////////////////////

WE ARE COMING

We are coming

From the crevice of the Mitochondrial Eve

When her water breaks

We wait for no time

That will be called our time

We are coming

Now that the Sun has gone down

And the creatures have gone to rest

Hidden from the light

So we can slip out hugged by the night stealing the Sun

We are coming

From this woman

Swearing she never knew Adam

Claiming we were planted in her

Like the mysterious water in the Coconut

We are coming

To take the world and its allures

Precious stones cast on whitened beach shores

By the gods that caused the rocks to boil

A liquid red and fluid from the mountains near

We are coming

From the one whose milk we plan to scorn

Those breasts shall feed the thirsty earth

With their white lubricants

And after, it will get thirstier

We are coming

Feet first

To proclaim a new year before dawn

A new Sun rises casting a new light

Holding no heat

We are coming

Transparent people

With light bulbs for heads

Absorbing light

Conducting light

Emitting light

Burning bright

Igniting light

Casting no shadows

We are coming

Oh!

Here we are!

CHUKWUEMEKA DEUS

/////////////////////////////////////////

KEPLER'S HUNT

We are headed to the third market

to buy time.

We go to meet with the space merchants.

We go to trade our knowledge for their immortality.

We are headed to the blue earth

to purchase some anti-heptants.

We go to meet with Methuselah's children.

We know they have the cure to this plague called age.

We are headed to space,

for a honeymoon.

We go as guests of the dream master, winners of the solar lottery.

We go to witness metal giants and the worlds of tomorrow.

We are headed for the galaxy

to dethrone the emperor of stars.

We go to unseat the mechanical monarch.

We go as god-makers to remove the mote in God's eyes.

We are headed for the living machine

with the Calcutta-chromosome.  

We go to meet Darwin's children,

We go to find an artificial womb for the daughters of earth.

We are headed for the lost garden

to eat butcher plant.

We go to drink the blood of the moon.

We go as misfits of an imperial earth seeking our human blend.

We headed out of the dark

to the rainbow's end.

We go as exiles of the stratosphere

We go in search of brave new worlds and habitable planets.

SOONEST NATHANIEL

////////////////////////////////

COME IN

"Come in

Come in please

Whoever is knocking

This is the time

To come in"

It was her cracking voice

Suddenly

It all run through her mind

Could it be her he

That she awaits for so long

Could it be her far-away love

That promised her an altar call

Only when he returns

Who could be at the door?

Alas,

It was "another he"

The one her folks smiles at

The one that kept knocking

The chained door of her heart

Chained and but open to her first he

She waits for her he

Her very first love

When the heart was without form

Her he that sojourns

Across the border to the white land

Years rolled over

Moon counting was lost on her

But still waiting for her he

"He is still coming", she murmured silently

Her friend laugh her off

Her mummy scold her

Her younger ones only

Invites her to their weddings

She helps nurture their babies

Yet she waits on her he

When is he coming?

When is he gonna come in?

When will he break

Through this chained heart of hers?

Maybe,

Maybe this time

Just this time

She could think aloud

And listen to her folks

Maybe,

Maybe this time

Just this time

She could allow the "another he"

A chance to lurk around more

Pierce through the abandoned

Window of her heart

Maybe,

Maybe this time

Just this time

She should accept that her

Long awaited he is no longer coming

Maybe,

Maybe this time

Just this time

She should open her heart

For the other "another he"

To come in

ALAYANDE STEPHEN T.

/////////////////////////////////////

I WALK ALONE

A journey beyond space and time

Through space and time,

As decisive spots in the experiencing toward perfection

I walk alone

With friends and foes

Surrounded by my web of fortunes and misfortunes

Mother earth is in need of extreme makeover

Being alive and hopeless is death for the living

I walk alone in the midst of angels and demons

My choice

My responsibility

My creation

The war to save the world is ‘not’ my responsibility

The war to save my soul

I choose every day,

As I walk alone

Among friends and foes,

Angels and demons

I will come home one day at a time

As I walk through this desert filled with

Immorality more than the sand in the desert

With bright spots like oasis

I walk alone

Not alone

Angels and demons beside me

My choice

My responsibility

My creation

IFEANYI OKWOSHA

////////////////////////////////////////////

STILL COMING

Nesting in a foreign land
Made her an outcast
With a bond so magical
Bearing its fruit of pain and joy
Like dew of blessings

The fruit became a bundle of joy
Grew amidst shortcomings
Flourished with every step 
and every stage
Your foreplay rapturing into climax
You called me heaven, no, rapture on earth.

Things happened
Announcing your coming,
And like the nations polity
You are still coming into your grace
Coming into your place
Subtly sweeping me off my feet

CHRIS N. JOHN

//////////////////////////////////////

LIMPID

You don’t love me

So don’t pretend you do

Keep your demons to yourself

I want none of their fear

Take your prayers too

Along with the fever

You put in them

And since you have

The answers to questions

I never asked

Take those too

My ways are not yours

They will never be

Here’s the best part of

My advice

My will is mine to do as I will

Will you stop coming in

Where my will does not admit?

KEMIBON

//////////////////////////////

ART IS TIC-ING

Art is tic-ing in me like time, 

bombs exploding into thoughts, 

tongue releasing words, 

painting pictures with vivid colors, 

light and dark shades, 

gradients exposing depth 

making a mess of sight as known - the illusion ever bold, 

holding men captive to the senses of 5, 

betraying the 6th, 

within which art survives, 

so this Art must blow, 

like blood, those words must flow, 

ceaselessly painting the streets with the colors of freedom, 

Music! fill the air, 

diffuse the scent of fear, 

for here is the hour to disenchant despair, 

lay ambush in every corner, 

let the souls of men harbor them, 

ticking every second, 

consciousness lending instructive knowledge to the body

we advance to our foes terrain

Armed with devastating weapons of warfare

thoughts, words and guts

making injustice Judge its lieutenants

Corruption feast on its Children

And victory remaining our outcome

The hour has arrived

ART IS TIC-ING, ITs TIME, EXPLODE!

OLUSOLA “HOLYBLAZE” FAKILE