POEMS READ AT LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 8 EPISODE 4 GAINING

KEMIBON WINNER POEM OF THE MONTH

LOLADE AJAYI WINNER WORTHY OF NOTE POEM

WHEN FEAR WALKED IN (POEM OF THE MONTH)

Fear walked in and

Hatred followed closely at its heels

Many fell in love with these two Brothers

Welcomed them warmly

They made room for them

Furnished it with contempt

Draped cruelty across the windows

And put pride at the door

Hatred gained many followers

Fear was the first to sign them up

While compassion looked for vacant hearts

To reside

Love covered its eyes in pity

Blind justice saw it all

There'll be no hiding place

For them

But for Corrie and Betsie

There's a place In the

Hollow of His Hands

KEMIBON

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GAINING (WORTHY OF NOTE)

Ever since mother made her choice 
I knew I would never be born
Oh how I tried to please her
When I glimpsed her placards screaming: Pro-choice!!!
I tried to do myself in
Foetal limbs curved in kick mode style
As I chewed slowly our umbilical cord

But she pays no attention to this body language
For She's newly gained a voice 
And speak she must
Against 'fenemists'
The enemy of everything feminine

And to gain herself a crowd
She spread ideas around
Thoughts, that no man would buy for free.

So out I came into the hands
Of the freedom fighters.
Black, on a cold White slab
Which earned me a quote from mother
"The beautiful ones are unborn"
It's already dark in paradise
And I was never here!!

OLOLADE AJAYI

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LOVE, WAR AND FAIRNESS 

If all is fair in love being likened to war

Then the heart is a complex playground

The battlefield for emotional Mussolinis 

With fascist sentimentality

Gaining and loosing territories

Advancing, retreating, strategizing

Philosophical cannons and bullets of words

Till poetry is born

Love is war… all is fair in both

Poetry is the fair ammunition of conquest 

And even heartless men seek to conquer heart

Playing spy games and creating alliances

To tear down the Berlin wall caused by cold wars

Appointed securities put up to hide our insecurities and disappointments

Love is both socialism and democracy

Both parties losing and gaining identities 

Yet both can fail resulting into anarchy 

Like war all is fair in love 

So we fight for it

But is love always fair?

OLAMIDE SANTOS

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GAINS

To live- Christ

To die- gain

Not as religious expression

But as lived out reality

Not the virtual/parallel reality

where the loser is the biggest gainer!

Gains- the Angelos network

Gaining weight

Gaining influence

Gaining traction

Generating acclaim

Gaining territory

From Santana- Texas.

Alaska, the Louisiana compact

Losing Bakassi

The whole Of the South Cameroon's

Losing for gain-

South Sudan, Djibouti

Somaliland

Unshackling Stalin's union

Loosening Tito's grip

Gaining Singapore- a coastland 

without a hinterland

Losing Singapore.

The geography of the world

a study in gainful losing

Losing gains made by historical annexation

Gaining poetic/prosaic wisdom

from historical association and allusion

Moving on from gains- modern, post modern, amodern

Every expression, a value addition

Using the language of Business to express the poetry of hearts

Celebrating our gains from the graininess , grime and graft of 

our joy-filled existence!

ANDREW WHYTE

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I WILL ALWAYS BE ME

When I was young

Life was slow

Growing old was a craving more than chocolate

Adding one feather after another

Being able to sit in the car and look out of the window

Shows the progress made

Life began to pick up speed

The adventures of youth, independence

And experiences 

Added to the mixed feeling of responsibility

The baffling reality

More real than rocks and water

Time seem to get shorter

That old man

Observing

With sunken eyes

That old woman

Acting her age

As decreed by unwritten rules

Is forever young

Look me in the eye

And see me 

This cloak is deceptive

Yes I have gained in so many ways

No matter how many times I change my cloak

I will always be me

IFEANYI OKWOSHA          

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GAINING

Gaining my freedom from poverty

Is like gaining my health to wealth

Breaking the spirit of idleness

In my heart was promise flaming

Just as the shinning coral of gold

 Gaining my freedom from death

Was the disaster I could not control?

Claiming my life back to eternity

Is still the boredom of loneliness?

Just as the barren land of famine

Gaining my freedom from terrorism

Was the moment the girls were captured?

Changing the political dreams to conflict

Which was the enjoy of parenthood

Just as setting the captives free

Gaining my freedom from xenophobia

Was my greatest regret of hatred?

Failing my promises of patriotism

Which was the misfortune of death?

Just as the scavengers of greatness

Gaining my freedom to marriage

Was the heritage of unborn generations?

 Dating the mysteries of immorality

In an unknown territory of waste

Just as the genetics of king Solomon

Gaining my freedom from diseases

Was the worst thing I ever committed?

Faking my skin to varnishing spores

In the circuit of incurable   syndrome

Just as facing the consequences of it

 Gaining my freedom from the Dead Sea

Was the border of unloosed waves?

Splashing the streams to revenge

As dawning of a mermaid quest

Just as the stories of folk tales

Gaining my freedom from sin

Was the sacrifice I made to love?

Flashing my past to the present

UBONABASI EKPO

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WE CURSED IT.

One Dollar is 400 Naira, sometimes higher and all depends on the seller. Blame the fragile misogynist all you can. “Puedo harcerlo mejor”  I can do better, my Spanish friend will say. He has torn our economy into shreds, there is nothing left of it. PIOUS, seated under the bridge and expecting his turn to load, caught a glimpse of a 2016 IVM, he retort “Nonsense, wish kian moto bi dis sef” and just then a 2005 DODGE CHALLENGER come past; same PIOUS exclaims “ Ah! See moto. God! Abeg skata dis wold mek wi stat afresh” and looks on until it fade.

Ojo complains bitterly how he has been shortchanged by a bureau de change while furiously demanding his change at one of SHOPRITE counters, but before he could leave, throws a jab at a supervisor: please OGA! Nigerians need KEELOGG’S not NASCO CORNFLAKES; take note, we got swag. But I can’t believe I spent all this money on few groceries; Aa! Naira no get valu egen o. Muttering under his breath.

I rather spend a thousand five at GENESIS DELUX crunching my popcorn and soda not quite excited about the much talked about SMURFS: THE LOST VILLAGE than pay five hundred Naira on LOTANNA featuring: LIZ BENSON, BIMBO MANUEL, JIDE KOSOKO and CHRIS ATTOR. Just on leaving THE PALMS I over hear someone say: “the Dollar is now 450 Naira o!” I shrug and unconsciously screamed: aa! aa! wish kian contry bi dis sef? Oooo yells a little boy “You CAUSED IT”, you just made me spilt my ice-cream.

IGWE HENRY

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I HAD LIGHTS

I had sunshine,

She smiled at me

On a cold Thursday afternoon

She had no words to say

but who needed words

When she had eyes

That told me

I was strong

I had moonlight,

She winked at me

On a hot Friday

She was sorry

I was about to sleep

She told me

I was ready for work

And miracles

And I believe her

I had starlight

He danced this way

And that

On a cool Saturday night

He was glad

I could stay up

So he twinkled, twinkled

And I dreamt of stories in time

I had earthlight

He was fierce and crude

On a hot Sunday night

He hardly visits me

You see

But when he does

Just like Branch

He brings good tidings

So naturally

I felt I was Poppy

ABIOLA BONUOLA

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A TROUBLED MIND

Nothing murders sleep like a troubled mind

It makes the heart a mined field left to die

It kills and leaves you to die like a bruised flower

It gropes the soul like principalities and powers

Maims the man like dainty angels with might

It feels like words spoken in love

That brought fire on the hearers

It feels like things touched in darkness

Revealed in light

Then hid in shame

It is like brothers who bother

And haters who inspire

It is like sour hearts bruised by love

Like things forgotten that hound the mind

Like fears that pound the heart

Like lost hopes that found lights

Like bleak hopes given long ropes to spark

Believe me it seems grief finds home in every age

But as long as the bruised heart beats

It  still lives

Even though bleak hope flickers like a candle in the wind

It may never die

But this you can be sure

Whether we die or live

We are still gaining

CHISOM

LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 6 EPISODE 9 GIVING REVIEW BY ERHIO!

Loudthotz Open Poetry Reading Season Six Episode Nine revolved around the theme: GIVING. The evening kicked off with a poem from the Captain of the poetic ship Chisom titled 'Never be broken' a beautiful piece that spoke of determination and resilience.

Next was a piece from our African queen Kemibon titled 'High Lifes and Low Lives' which was a first time religious
piece from the queen and questioned mans ability or inability to make use of the grace we all receive. 

Next up was a poem worthy of note by our one and only Oyindamola Fakile titled 'The one who gives', which from the very first line captivates and pulls you into its motherly warmth. 

From there we moved to Nneoma's potent piece titled 'The Call' which brought to the fore mans wanting to gain all he can by doing absolutely nothing. 

We had quite a number of first timers in the house, the first to break the ice however was Amara Ayozie whose lovely poem is titled 'She's You', a lovely message wrapped up with rhymes.

 Ayinla Muyideen Adeleke stepped forth with a piece titled 'The Candle Light Procession', telling how we superficially carry out important activities and forget them in a snap without any lessons learnt.


The baton was then passed to another first timer, the beautiful Elenora Paul whose piece is titled 'Poems!!!' a captivating message from a determined poet. 

Up next was another poem worthy of note by Opoko Pamela Ijeoma titled 'Afar Off' which spoke of a love that bordered on impossible but which is as real and as fierce as ever.

Ilupeju gave us a new perspective with his piece titled 'Giving' and yet another first timer Ifeanyi Mbah took us on a
journey through Nature with his piece titled 'The Sun veiled her Countenance'.

Next was the King of the Spoken Word stage Soonest Nathaniel with his piece 'Before you make Love', a compelling message from a father to a son on the brink of manhood. 

Oluwemimo Bonoula spun a lovely poem about repeat mistakes titled 'Recurrence' and Erhio sent out a message to the guys with her piece 'She always gives!!'. 

Next up was the poetic don himself, Akeem Oyalowo whose piece 'I am going soft' was so full of imagery and
strong verbal expressions that it inevitably was crowned the poem of the month. 

However to round up the evening Ifeanyi Okwosha rendered his poem titled 'I will dance with you' and showed us its personal side.

It was definitely a beautiful fun filled evening of poetic cheer and brilliance and all look forward to the month of October where it would be hot and BURNING!

POEMS READ AT LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 6 EPISODE 8 "MADE"

WINNER OF POEM OF THE MONTH KEMI BON RECEIVING HER PRICE

WAR RANT

It took me a long time to say what I wanted to say
Fifteen seconds Two minutes Six hours and one day
I communicated in all kinds of different ways
Whispers Laughter Shouting and silent wails
Whatever I remember later I'll send by mail
It was not easy shaking an iroko tree for dew drops to fall
But I managed to say and do it all
To unwind
Speak my mind
And shake my behind
I no longer feel confined
After seventeen years of silent strife
Of trying to be a good wife
Of resisting to make use of the kitchen knife
I've finally had my say
Destroyed the feet of clay
And I'm ready to stay or go away
What do you have to say?

ERHIO OBODO

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MY JOURNEY

I was created in the spirit lands

Made out of perfection

A seed to be sown

To grow and mature

To have an identity

These roads built in cycles

My path to choose

Spiraling up and down

A path to self discovery

In these journey where ignorance

Is a burden

To the wisdom of men

My mistakes and failures

Will come to my aid

To make me stronger

To learn to choose within the moment 

The path to wisdom’s fountain head

Once again I will set sail

To return once more

To the very beginning

Where the small cycles

Completes the eternal one

IFEANYI OKWOSHA             AUGUST 2015

 

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PREJUGE^{1 – POEM OF THE MONTH}

When did the race for the best race truly

begin?

It didn’t start with Hitler

and it sure didn’t end with him

The 1400’s or earlier still?

Incomplete, not the “right” color, not

the way “we” are so pain instill?

Eliminate, purge, erase.

The carousel never stops turning

Tellurians birthed a dis-ease

Rejecting the ease to accommodate

A fellow inhabitant

The disrespect for another’s

Opinions, views and values

got woven into the fabric

Painted on the canvas of

Society like art

Given away freely in

Religion, tribe and way of life

And living

Soon we all got a piece

of  bi-as

good, bad and ugly

An unsightly situation

That birthed

Thoughts like

Trans and gender

Don’t forget the inequality

Claimed by the weaker vessel

Don’t buy me an a*se

I have a bi-as against that

I think therefore I am

Black, Yoruba, Kinky haired woman

Need I add that I am proud of that too?

Kemibon

1.Bias

KEMI BON

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ALTITUDE

Throbbing hearts in flood

Papers seeking conscience

Quiet voices speak

Hysterical pain seeks guilt

The emotions

Like an avalanche

Building up

Storming through the trees

Racing, running, climbing, jumping

Looking down

No movement

Seeking lemons after the storm

The water has risen

Life goes on

Learnt something

Ever changing

Ever new

BIOLA

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

Seek Within

The morning bells toll from a distance

A call to my sleeping soul

The hour 05:00, whispers to my ears

The need for movement

In my hand rests a torch light

I had no feel of it as everywhere is covered in darkness

My stomach rumbles in expectation

Out I’m worn by tiredness of my expectations

In the beautiful gardens, my eyes glare.

Up I look, to be walled up by the mountains

Silver, gold, bronze, ruby and rope, Were the decors of the foot of the mountains

To the peak of the mountains, my being seeks to reach

in expectations of what the horizon holds.

I climbed and failed, I climbed and failed, I climbed and failed.

The tolls of a distant bell

Once again calls to my sleeping soul

Up on my feet I got, confused by the darkness that surrounds me.

And the torch light I heeded not

Then I heard a voice calling from not afar

Oshodi! Oshodi!

“My world!” My spirit cried

I’m a Nigerian!

OSCAR

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PEOPLE LOVING PEOPLE

An end to the world as we know it

Peering into smiles, asking what the hell is the mind showing

All teeth and no joy

All bliss and no peace

Just the cart before the horse

It’s just me or I but never us

It’s the end of the world as we know it

To write about a date that is certain

A journey for all, wondering who’s our captain

Being alive isn’t cheap

Even the dead will pay to creep

People loving people

 A heart becoming feeble

I saw them on the stairs

They confirmed all that I feared

It is an affair

 My words, my alarming tone, I hope I didn’t interfere

It was my business, the none

To denounce my beliefs and begone

Left to Hades to prove it isn’t myth

If he comes to life, they predicted I’ll be his meat

Sacrifice offered alive

Predator circling prey

When there is danger, evil disappears allows a tongue to pray

An end to the world as we know it

People loving people

Exceptions becoming rule

Sickly cells poring through blood

Genes defying types

Dreams are now bursting pipes

Fingers getting a bonus

In sixes and sevens,

What to do now,

When love is done and hate beckons

Marrying for love but getting stuck in a marriage

If the road is dual carriage

And pathways of tenderness becomes bush-walled by thorns

What scares us to turn

Who says we shouldn’t return to the gallery

What do you make of heaven fanning hell’s fury?

People hating people

Hatred of the kind that bears dimples

He loves a mark, excludes those without

He adores a tongue, declares only the best comes from the south

Love brewed in the pot of exclusion

They both made ablutions

But one will perish the other, without feeling a need for absolution

It is hatred, it is love

The world isn’t what the books painted

Love isn’t true when there’s nothing to abhor

Faith hinging on the weakness of others

Love your brothers, but hate the others

People hating people

It is night, if kin says so

It is time the exiled comes home

To the truth tongues won’t present to voice

To rid ourselves of forced choices

To leave to the dust, the shelves for home

To realize that happiness can be found even when alone

That cliché become tricks, if everyone obeys

And we all become angels and demons with mere words off a phrase

Values seem to head into battles unharmed

In a world mired in an arms race

People killing people

Chambers made of gas

Colors making class

Prejudice makes poison

Poison is a drink made for concentration camps

Remember that place, kids are dumped during the day to learn

Where boys become men, to be decorated in gowns and be given paper with stamps

People needing people

Conscience pricking needle

A world stuck in reverse

Sees fashion in a horse posing behind a cart

And nothing wrong in selfies for eyes troubled by cataract

An eye for an eye makes the world blind

By giving your heart to someone, there’s a chance you might lose your mind

Don’t ask a soul stuck in rewind to move forward

Don’t ever ask a saint for the keys to his cupboard…

AKEEM ADETAYO OYALOWO

July 22, 2015

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WHEN I DIE

When I die,

I plan to go in style.

With flowing ink trailing my path,

Illuminating the road behind

Engraving my footsteps in the heart of mother earth,

Magnifying each insignificant stride

That accelerated me down this graceful grave,

When I die

When I die,

I plan to make it loud.

When I fall prey to the jaw of death,

The greatest strength evident only in defeat

Strength in the acceptance of the words of the Word

For all men shall taste death.

I shall taste death

but with my name imprinted on the sands of time

To be dispersed to every corner of the world on wings of word

When I die.

When I die ,

I plan to go with words.

To keep me company in the dark corners of my grave

When I lay still, dead and inactive

Beneath dusts,

Beneath me the dust of man’s ineptitude.

When I die I hope to be succeeded by words

My remnants inherited by words

Forever carrying on my legacy screaming the truth

Until words put an end to the world

When I die

When I die,

I plan to mock death.

Cause When I die there would be wailings,

And there would disdain.

My ink would scream and my words would paint,

Enemies would rejoice,

And haters would mock,

Still a few would weep,

And some would revere the very essence that was me,

But who would be there to weep for death

When death sweeps Death off his feet.

When i die 

I plan to mock death

When I die unlike death

I plan to do it in style

  

AJIJOLA HABEEB BODUNRIN

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FORGIVE ME

Back into your arms again

Renewed plain and sane

Excited to hear of you

To be home once more

And ready to drink from your cup of affection.

I have missed your food

For you really cook nice and good.

The imagery of your boiling pot

And the aroma of words that descend into my lung

Tells me you can never be wrong.

Pardon me that I have lost my muse.

Before these bones begin to break

And take kwashior shapes

I seek to be nourished again

To accept to be drenched

In words of resounding metaphors.

That simile smile you possess

And the cautious cautiousness you instill

To ensure words never go wayward

Thoughts never became thoughtless

And speeches never became rebellious.

All these that I have missed

And I hope to get them fixed.

When was it last

I heard the sage

Right there on the stage?

When last was it

I heard couplets

Gave birth to rhymes of triplets?

Forgive me

For having learnt to build words

But all these days I have

Been unable to make a verse of them.

#poetry

Ayinla Muyideen Adeleke

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I MADE IT.

I made it to the top of the hill.

To the head of the class

And breasted the finish line

Clocked in by the electronic timer.

I became President

Got the Mrs.

But sadly lost the plot

Getting bogged down in the thick of thin things

I made it to the top of Everest

The Sherpa Norgay was first

But I am Hilary from the First world.

He was only my guide.

I won the rat race

Though not being a rat, what does that say about me.

I went beyond first base, though I stopped short of Coventry

If you get my meaning.

I made it to the source of the river

and all the papers said i discovered it.

Though to tell the truth it had always been there.

The people always knew where it was.

But Res Ipsa Loquitor- the documents speak.

I made it to the top of the hill

Never mind the process of licks,genuflections and withdrawals.

But why must we assume that the process was flawed?

Why not play blind, dumb and immobile?

See nothing.

Hear nothing.

Do nothing.

The movie did well and was funny.

What about Clinton's don't ask, don't tell?

What about John Wayne's, a mans got to do what a mans got to do?

What about Machiavelli and all the other Princes of expediency?

And what is this?

Celebration.

Vituperation.

Examination.

Is it not enough that I made it?

That I got it made?

That I am made?

This is not Hamlets to be or not to be.

This is Polonius- be true to yourself

then you cannot be false in your testimony.

Your statement of making or unmaking

Masking or unmasking.

ANDREW WHYTE

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GRAY MALKIN

Gray Malkin

Squealing forth fear

At the dead of the night

You paint the sky gray and induce gathering clouds

You brush the sky with pigment

The colour of fright

Handing out dread

Free like the air

Free like the wind under your wings in your flight

This night still came to create hubris for you

You and your crew

Sisters of cave

Clawing around on toes without shoes

Freaky show

The arrogance of you

Queens of no light

Hunters of fortune

In the mid of the night

Dreaded by ones living for the Sun

Fearful of your battle even with a gun

Quintessential widows

Wishing for no wizards

Loving your status from your roots back at Endor

Wishing for no womb if only candour it yields

Wearing familiars

The cloak of conceit

Gray Malkin this time

Paddock anon

Hansel without Gretel

My sword drips of red

See what you made me do

Now I can’t stop myself.

CHEMEKA  DEUS

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WORDS COME TO ME

Words come to me like serpent to Eve

Whispers in my ears to derail like Eve

Tells me I am a god

That the powers of creation lies in me

That I can make the future’s future

Woos me to touch sacred things

Vows I can clothe the firmaments

O if I had known

That words are ephemeral

Disappears like smoke

Weak like a candle in the wind

O if I had known

That words are sluts

Perches on everyone’s muse

Loyal to none subject to change

O how I enjoyed your whispers in the night

The bliss you bring to my heart

The ethereal joy you put on my face

O how I miss your strength

Give you the whole world

To stand by my side always.

Cause you made me.

CHISOM

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

THE CASSANDRA ENCOUNTER

There was a tree

With seven branches,

Six leaves,

And a fruit. 

I heard a voice 

Saying;

"Eat!

Taste of death and live."

I saw her,

Naked 

On a horse back.

She had crossed the rivers, 

The four rivers. 

She bade me come, 

She said:

"Come with me, come to the waters."

Her body

A temple,

A tomb;

Bury me. 

The serpent 

Encircled the altar, 

Sweet death

Laid buried in the comb. 

Her breast 

Two chalices;

Philosophy 

And religion. 

Her mouth 

An open urn. 

She said:

"Drink!

Drink of my founts,

The fountains of youth and wits. 

There was blood 

Spilled on the altar, 

Tradition laid sacrificed, 

Murdered by the blades 

Of novelties. 

She said

A great swarm of bees 

Would arise 

And locusts will come 

For their harvests. 

It was midnight, 

But I saw the sun. 

In its eyes

The half-pig-half-man. 

She said 

It was the darkest hour 

Of Earth's long night,

And that the creatures 

Of the most watchful 

Will wake soon from hideous dreams. 

Alone 

Now is sit, 

Like a flask 

On a brazen tripod. 

I have put out 

The slender flame 

That lit up my solitude. 

I have moistened

The hem of my garment 

And my foot;

That when the reaper comes 

Sickle wielding 

Like a blood drunk Samurai, 

I like a grain

Shall be whole.

SOONEST NATHANIEL