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Archive for November, 2012

I Mean

I’m tired of life; really,

But people never understand it

They think I’m saying I want to die;

Sometimes…it does occur to me; I can’t lie

Let me explain my meaning

When I say I’m tired of life; it’s simple really,

All I’m saying is I’m tired of the routine

I’m tired of the lies; the truths, the bullshit;

I think someone should strangle me with a bullwhip!

I’m tired of talking about how tired I am;

I’m tired of confusing peanut butter for space jam

I’m tired of having to wake up and dream,

I’m tired of dreamless nights with no sleep

Do you get my meaning?

Or do you just think I’m mean – in

My head?

” Why does he’s write this; as a means?

Or is he just trying to impress me? “

I’m in one mode; what’s the median of the mean?

Do you wonder why I wake up and scream?

That was the chorus; let’s be done with this crap!

No; I don’t rap.

Maybe I do; what does it matter?

What’s the matter; can’t find a significant other?

Ever looked in the mirror; cut to the heart of the matter?

Do you know the difference between a burden and matter?

But wait! We’ve agreed it does not matter!

I’m tired of women who don’t know what they want

Or maybe they do; but they too much front

I’m tired of being taking for a psycho; true

But I really can’t be bothered about what you think

But don’t think through

I’m tired of what I want not exactly existing,

I’m tired of this traitorous heart of mine persisting;

Insisting, on being silly and unresisting,

I’m tired of using words that are not subsisting

I’m tired of these familiar things I’ve always been tired of;

I’m tired of being tired of – but I don’t dare want more;

My friend says I should chill; sometimes I’m too raw –

I’m tired of writing this poem. It’s too long sef!



For Days and A Night Poster

He sits in his chair. In the room.

The same room he’s been in for the past few days.

It’s all quiet. There’s a loud thudding in his ears. It’s all dark around him – but he knows; he senses that things are not the way they should be.

He rubs his hand…the right one across his face and stiffens. There’s a funny smelling liquid on his hand – a sticky, viscous liquid that does not

smell like mucous.

His heart rate palpitates…because he knows what the liquid is.


That Bastard

That Bastard

With grace and youthful bounce, he walks my way
His teeth sparkling white, his eyes twinkling
This man is so charming!
I blush with virginal grace as his eyes devour my shape
I see his raw desire and hide my face
For the first time i’m conscious at the state of my dress
My favorite dress
My young flourishing curves his eyes caress
But he does not reach and touch; as i expect
Instead he takes
My hands away from my face
And shows me a small pool of water that shows me!
Gods! And this one is small and fits in my small fist
Can he tell my heart is already his?

I do want to be beautiful for him
He calls me his nubian queen
And gives me things that belong to a king
His cultured baritone takes away all my reason
I just want to please him
So i lie on my back, welcome his weight, part my thighs
And give him my heart, my jewel, my life
He takes me over completely; is it hypnosis?
or maybe ignorance or virginal innocence
No matter, he changes my rags to real clothes
Takes me from my parents’ mud hut into a real home
They complain; but i do not listen
A lot more shiny things, toys that speak called mobile phones
Makes me learn his language; mine is no longer acceptable
Teaches me not to eat on the floor; bring it the table
Tells me to raise my head in the presence of men
Except him; because he owns me then

I just want to please him
And i speak like him; i’m so cultured
What does a little rudeness to pa and ma matter?
They are stuck in the past; this man is the future
I am happy; i think, and i laugh fake laughter
Slowly, ever so slowly, everything begins to shatter
The clothes he gave me he takes them back, replaces them with rags
Says my nudity is perfect
But the strings and ropes he makes me wear now are plastic
The sex is much more violent and graphic
A camera’s always in the room
Videos; for an imaginary uncle named youtube
I wear hair that never belonged to me;

And i just want to please him
So i learn new things; styles, so i can tease him
Please him; because he stays away now; more and more
Says my breasts are now flat, i make them firmer
My thighs are too fat; i make them thinner
‘Your native songs are old!’ he screams. ‘Play something newer!’
We eat food with funny names, out of nylons and paper
They taste very sweet; but i now am fatter
I see myself in the mirror; i do not know me anymore!
He used to be worth it; but now its just harder
And he’s stopped calling me his queen; that makes me so sad
Names like bitch! And Ho! Silly hooker thrown all over the place
And when i complain; he laughes and says ‘It’s what you deserve.’
Isn’t that you in the video, dancing nude with no reserve?’

And i tried to please him
It took me all over the world; from the little room in
which we used to be intimate;
Shared me with the world through the internet
So i cover my face; now in true shame
Shedding late tears over lost innocence
I go back home; but it’s not home anymore
It was not me he wanted; it was what my people had
Giving them whisky in return for their land
Making them drunk; stupid and envious of each other
Now they have carts that move with no one pulling them
Stereo systems that allow me no rest
The noise is so scary!
What happened to the beautiful silence?
And when i complain or talk, they thank me for i sacrificed,
The beauty of machines and material wealth in exchange for a human mind
It’s all my fault…no, i was a victim
A victim of that manipulating bastard called CIVILIZATION

For A Dance

Sure I’d like to dance with you,
Hold you when you’re feeling blue
Be the centre of your gravity true,
Make you feel like it’s just us two

No bumps; I’ll make the journey most smooth
Arms like this’ll steady your roots
No demands; don’t think too much – just be calm
We’ll hold hands and be each other’s balm

I know you’re scared – but hear this;
That steady thump; the rhythm of my heartbeat,
Is it a mistake; how with yours it aligns?
Is it ‘cos we’re human, that’s why it rhymes?
No; I tell you there’s more to our design

Sometimes – we swap lips for mouths,
Mistake an embrace for a hug
Sometimes we take it too far when we should just stop

No pressure, no rush, no race against time,
No predestination; no ‘that’s the finish line’
Let’s just be us; you and me

All I’m saying is…
Let’s dance, you and I

For ‘her’.

Strange IV

My life is spiraling out of control. I can’t put the pieces back together.

Stuff is crazy – like I have never known it to be. Suddenly I’m having gaps in my memory. I’m finding it hard; almost impossible to
remember stuff. I remember stuff I don’t remember doing, and I cannot remember doing stuff I was supposed to do.

For instance, I remember thinking how untidy my room was that Saturday morning. It occurred to me to clean it, but then I thought to go for my morning run before coming back to tidy it. I remember getting dressed and slinging on my MP3 player…and I remember leaving the house and locking it behind me.

Next thing I remember – I was wandering up and down the aisles of the Shoprite store in Ikeja City Mall. And it was 5:01 in the evening.

I was wearing a suit. In fact it looked like I was on my way to work. I looked at the basket in my hand and it was nearly full. Nearly full with stuff I could swear did not belong to me – stuff that was not my usual cup of tea.
I decided to not to panic – at least not then and there. I had to know; I had to find out what exactly was happening to me. From the strange looks and stares I could assume I had been walking down and up and all over the store for a while; doing God-knows-what. It occurred to me to ask the store’s authorities for their security camera footage, but I discarded that idea. I already looked crazy enough as it was.

But then – a look at the security footage might help me. It would at least show me something.

With determination I walked towards the admin office.

Strange III

3:13am. Still can’t sleep.

Been awake since after one.

Watched some of that Tom Cruise Knight and Day. After thirty-something minutes of staring at the screen and not seeing it, I came to myself to realize the movie had ended. Disgusted, I turned off the player and TV, and continued staring at it.

Man, I got issues.

Asides from the steadily-worsening insomnia, there was also the fact that I was starting to loose concentration at work. On Thursday I had ordered breakfast, and the strategist had brought it in herself. Wonder why she did that.

Strategist. Bukky.

I remember the first time I saw her; like three months ago, standing behind my boss as he opened my office door and introduced her to me. Such a long time ago. So yesterday.

She brought in breakfast and was there flirting at me. Next thing I know, it’s after five in the evening and I’m standing in the boardroom staring at the window.

What I did between the morning and that moment, I could not remember. Confused, I made my way back to my office and walked by Bukky’s on my way. I looked in and she was there. As she saw me she straightened her blouse and cleared her throat. Uh oh.

I wanted to ask her what happened. But I realized how that would make me look. So I just nodded and walked away. At the door I turned, wanting to say something flippant. But as my eyes met hers, she winked at me.

That’s right. Winked.


I guess I ran out of there.
Whatever had I been saying to her?

Damn. I’m back in my house, staring at the TV.

But now it’s 5:27am.

What happened? Where have I been?

Midweek Fix: No Sense In My Senses

Fall in love with summer in the spring;
Fall for a girl who has everything
See; I did that just for the sake of a rhyme
Ain’t too much sense to be found in my lines

Winter is nothing but wind in December after all
Find a girl who has what you want; have a ball
Life is really short dear friends; no dey dull
Ain’t too much sense in my lines; I concur

Conformed to the error of fixed lives I murmur –
Kicking against walls in a term-bound structure
Reality tears holes in my fabric; have to find suture
Ain’t too much sense in my lines; don’t venture

Too far in – I’m swinging swayed; IMAGINE!
Faring well indeed – but it’s reality I’m fearing
Wayfaring – searching for the next adventure…
Ain’t too much sense in my lines – told ya.