Murder so brutal on open street
Dawn of work, workers afoot
Bukar Suka unleashed
mayhem so vile,
Ramat’s life and many more be lost.
Drunken sucker then declared,
Dawn to dusk curfew for vile act of dawn!
Suka Dimka unleashed,
a can of worms that the top reached.
Bequeathed us he did, angst across the land;
that not even his neck could assuage!
Rest on, Ramat.
Our best revenge – them Hassasins
have long been forgotten!
But you we see everyday, in many ways
in all homes, markets and piggy holes!
Even aluminium tubes fly outta you!
Rest on Ramat!
© 13th February 2017. Adewale Adeniji
Sleep, quintessential need of all.
Craved, yet distrusted by (wo)men.
Sleep, like his senior brother, death;
make the strong vulnerable, the weak
more hapless. But sleep must, must we not?
To rejuvenate that which a man makes.
Cold sweat of dreams puncture the bliss
of sleep; and the body craves the preference
of night owls for chatter which tatters the flesh.
Tattles, gossips, calls are welcomed; so long
as the head does not nod to the drumbeats
of sleep. Fatigue be damned. No sleep tonight!
Who/what will intercede between sleep
and this mortal fear of slumbering to death?
What guarantees do we have that slumber
will remain so, and not a procession to a crypt?
Any panacea for the dumbing angst?
What elixir for this morbid fear of sepulchers?
There is but one tonic, freely given to all.
It requires trust so base, that others will
troll at those who freely have it in Him; in
whose hands the twists, turns, tides of mortals
lay. He commands sleep, death bows to Him.
Sleep well when you have Him for a pillow.
© 30th December 2016. Adewale Adeniji.
Saucy as a shrew, naughty like that.
From catacombs to every crevice,
wares well sold. Segilola beautiful damsel.
Igba nla dogi, iyalaya any bagger*
I will walk my talk, my talk is my work.
Something supple, rolling like that.
A matching army, of it own accord
Controlled by no sergeant major; and
like a piped piper, puppets are drawn,
to nectar so sweet, yet so sour.
Segilola, scourge of many frowning wives
Envied object of many a putative damsel.
Loathe or love her, your senses ruled.
Pine or lust for her, your senses dulled.
What to do with this Segilola?
Segilolas aplenty at every ojude-Oba*
surplus at those privileged polo games.
Massed at the Argungu fishing fiesta*
Well dotted at each Ofala celebration*
Every where you turn, there’s a Segilola.
*Igba nla dogi, iyalaya any bagger – Expletive indicate of ‘who cares’
*ojude-Oba – age grade festival in Ijebu land.
*Argungu fishing fiesta – a fishing gala in Sokoto
*Ofala celebration – rites of renewal for a King in some parts of Eastern Nigeria
© 7th November 2016. Adewale Adeniji.
Fare thee well, Comrade talker, Fidel.
On Batista’s ashes you ruled and reigned.
Cahoots with Ernesto ‘Che’, you branded
Cuba, for fifty decades, in your image.
So effective were thee, that the Gringo
neighbor to the north, millions spent to
upend la revolution. Yet, your island remain.
Fashioned still in your image, oh yes!
In Havana, in Miami, residents or exiles
in equal measure mourn thee. Your utopia
much in discuss. Be it in the archipelagos,
Santiago de Cuba, Camaguey, the whole
of the Caribbean lands mourn thee, Fidel.
Be it for good or ill, more than eleven million
lives ye touched. White, Black, Mulatto all
mourn or laugh, each with their memories.
Born of privilege, married early into one.
People’s lawyer who charged nothing for
services so much craved in a corrupt era.
Yet, forswear thee a guaranteed life of
ease and pleasure; for a guerrillas’ doom.
Your July 26 movement prevailed and rocked
the Americas, inspiring radicalism all over.
To reactionaries and rent seekers’ chagrin all over!
Alas, like all mortals, your end now dawned.
But fair warning it gave thee for more seasons
than most. Now, The Indisputable Immortal, your life
will examine. Wish a fly I could be on that wall!
But, none though can deny, a garrulous priest
ye remained of communal economics so much so,
your version post dated its Soviet communal
parents! How else should a mortal in deed be judged?
Father of Fidelito, and nine more; salute for me
comrades fallen, fairly or not. Enjoy your rest,
but alas no cigars for yonder I’m sure; but hey,
you being Fidel, maybe another exception awaits.?
Broke all the rules, you did, with aplomb. Only
mortal leader to defy eleven Gringo presidents.
Survived ye, the Bay of Pigs, even more many
machinations of world’s elites; but this battle, lost ye.
Journey well in the bowels of the earth.
Where else could it ever be?
Comrade, you fought a troubled fight.
How else could it have been?
Yet, prevailed thou. Despite huge odds.
Fare the well, Fidel. Farewell leader of men.
Victoria Ascerta! Pamberi na chimuranga!!
Sadly, we shall not be seeing again.
© 26th November 2016. Adewale Adeniji. 😩.
That Donkey, what chip on ‘ees shoulders.
Rode only once hither thither by a Master;
as accolades poured forth in droves.
Of a truth our Ass developed such an ego
that has no place to go. Thought ‘eeself
important in life scheme of things, did he.
No one can an easy conversation have
with our celebrated Ass, as he puffs.
Until that fateful day in the village square.
The real owner of the Donkey had his life
shed for man so base. Then our Ass saw
his pride dented indeed. ‘Ess just a ride!
© 11th November 2016. Adewale Adeniji.
The morning of the day after.
Aghast are we, worldwide;
he won when none thought it.
On the wings of bigotry,
in the land of immigrants.
So, the wall will go up? Hmm…
Now, new mantra be “Jailers Ahoy”!
In for an all comer’s remit. Open season
on the weak, meek and malleable.
Bamboozled his way in, has he.
We be dazed, marooned in thought.
No more prospect for the reasonable;
We thought he wrong, we reckon we right.
But many hold him bright, a right newbie.
Pundits caught out. Thoughts adrift,
brains comatose; senses paralyzed.
Fear trumps hope, and all flounder.
Struck he lodes of angst; branded sweetly.
A pity indeed this Olympus has fallen.
Shame; for a season of anomie dawns.
Their centre no longer can hold!
© 9th November 2017. Adewale Adeniji