• April 2021
  • Theme: Pleasured Pain
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A Petty Trader’s Son and His Fate

Beside this road once stood the kiosk that fed the masses
When the nation turned sour.
The petty trader dreaming
“To my children hangs the future”.
But the tyrant kings
Condemned to death this kiosk that supplied the daily manna,
And planted in its place,
Flowers, which adorn the lawns.
The cruel kings in the royal might
Throw the children also, into black jungle of destitution,
That the coming morrow may never be theirs
But a good son of petty trader I am
Thus I’ll accept my fate and be contented.
Truly now, I stagger with my begging bowl,
Yet, a man’s bowel can adjust
To a long time hunger.
I believe you know as well, brother,
The journey to a better place is very far,
Even though it be blessed with plenty,
Yet, I’ll stay here, since I know not to get there.


A Bleeding Voice

they say I’m an ocean that flows
without hindrances, carries
tide & ship but I’m a fish inside
an ocean. I quack in the heart of
deep, my belly aches of maggots I feed on
& no one distinguishes my tears from water.
they say I’m a whirlwind that dances
majestically on king’s roof but I’m a
chaff in a whirlwind taken far away
from home. my voice chokes with sand
& my fate hangs in the air bleeding dust.
like a mud pot collided with a rock,
my pieces are everywhere- a piece
of me here & there & I shall build
a giant wall. I’m a silent voice wailing
in the tongue of fire, a spark that ignites
the sun to greet a new day & the veil
that covers the moon. burn me to
ashes. my smoke shall not escape chimney.


For the love of lust

I’ve donated my eyes to darkness
my heart too, left to the dusts of passion
I’ve sacrificed my essence to wallow
in this mud, having released my all to
this hell of pleasure
now I grind my treasures into chaff
spread its powder into wind’s eye
wasting not a tear as I cast my pearls
at pigs—to delight their snouts while
they fix me my cravings
I take a choice-less bow at every lap
of hot honey, my tongue burns—
fire that consumes itself
Oh, how I love lust for it turns me on
before offing me, kills me slow, slowly
and soon I’d be happily dead, wasted


In Time

I fixed my eyes on the clock,
lost sight of how it flew.
Time is a wingless bird

Today, we are birth on earth’s tongue fresh and savory,
Moving through the futility of life in our cavalry.
Our bodies becomes harbor where desires come to dock,
and our hearts dance to the rhythm of their songs.

We are sojourners floating through this space
like fragrance lurking in the atmosphere.
Libation, incense & our skin we burn chanting as we toil.
The aftermath of this menace leach on us like a lecherous leech
until we fall into the snare of time.

Tomorrow, we are plucked out of our bodies,
discarded into memories.
A memorial is erected in our stead.

This is how life flows through the eyes of time.



If I’m given a chance to live
Untethered and free
I’ll make melody with the birds at sunset
Lend my strength to earth
I’ll make my home in the sky
Hungrily feed off the laughter of wind
Tell jokes to the streams
And hear them gurgle with mirth
Break the sky in two
With streaks of white fire
Wreak havoc with my brother the storm
I’ll take lessons from the oceans
And birth entire civilizations
I’ll start a revolution
Rule for a day and give it all away
Maybe I’ll be careless for a while
And if death be the price I pay
Then it only means she found me first
I was running to her anyway


Persephone’s Garden

come visit me in persephone’s

garden lady of spring and queen of
death fruit and my heart will harden
as i’ll compel you to your last breath

pomegranates, pears, and cherries
ripe hang low from the boughs of her
trees rotten flesh lies underfoot
cloyingly sweet and riddled with bees

for you, a gift of earthy promise: first,
dewy mint and poplar sprigs, purple
grapes unmarred by sun, and then
misshapen green leaves of figs

dead wasps linger in the luscious fruit
and the seeds may cause you dismay
but press your teeth to the skin
and begin an eternal decay
persephone’s garden shows no care

to lovers that venture between—
now a place where i’ll love her—
the gates of the lofty iron queen



Let us set our tent and
transfigure our mind to love.
Let me cum down to your valleys,
into the abyss of pleasure
as you groan in joy for your broken pride

Let us feed the moons and stars
with our love tales of tonight-
our sumptuous ecstasy.
Let us make the moon horny
In this night of our honeymoon.


Face of a Widowhood

Death seethe his proboscis into the vein of the king , a paper canoe into the stream

Sapele reminds me of you of Pain
Like the legs of an abiku in fire, the pattern of frequent incision on her body

Stepping out of the standing walls with drops on my baked cheeks
I promise to find myself significant and do you proud

A day from mourning my loss and kissing to term with my new reality, to choose between toeing the pathway of victim and accepting whatever life would bring

To wake up a coffee
as a bright future calls with clock, to give answers to determination
To navigate my water to a place of stability

There’s life after the loss Kasio,
There is joy blooming every morning.


Born to Die

For many cultures on our continent
To talk about it is seen as a taboo
We talk in hushed whispers, afraid it long arms
Will yank the soul of a loved one
We appease it with gifts, song and dance
We chase it away with rituals like a mother would her stubborn child
For centuries humans have pondered about it
Are we a vessel, a soul confined to its human prison?
Set free when the heart beats its last
An eternal slumber slowly creeps in
Oblivious of pain and anguish with the final breath
O dark one why not let us be?
Why take them one by one young and old
Plucking them
Until all we have left is a withered stalk
a memory fading away
Silence dawns, darkness engulfs
We are all alone