I DO NOT LIKE YOU MUMMY

I do not like you mummy!
When in my innocence
You splashed my face with blood
Ever before babbling
Fed me drunk with Palmwine
Pure wine from your towering palms
Denied the animalistic gene
Of cow and Gate or Lactogene
Sorry, I can not like you.

Wonder not why
I can not like you mummy
You sob each time i cry
Alarmed each moment i ache
My worries do for me
All lousy stamps of softness
Softness unbecoming of men
Please, I can not like you

I do not like you mummy
For your threatnening monopoly
My main blood, salt and water
My first house, my first food
My first teacher and doctor
My first and oldest wife
Omnipresent in my life
Oh no! I can't just like you!

My little cares accept
It's not of stinginess
Nor ignorance of your pricelessness
For you I have no likeness
You gave no such to me
To Caesar, his to give
My love I humbly give
It never was mine
But excess from your mine
Mum, my heart to you i give!

Twin of Olodumare!
The giver of life!
The mould of moods
What else have i to give?
The best alone is worth
Had i the whole wide world
My priceless gold to give
It can't repay your least
See why i can't just like you?

DO GOODERS

The do-gooders are not

Those who sponsor

That names may ring bells

And screens may beam

They are sure not in the picture

The do-gooders are not

The party sprayers

Who open sycophantic mouths with wads

The proverbial ground wetters

They only pay the pipers

The do-gooders are not

Those who sustain one on daily stipends

In the guise of generous trends

Such support, to slavery tends

The prisoners’ food is not for fattening

The do-gooders do not abound

In the crafty recipients

Who in want of another courage to ask

Embrace the circumlocutory task

Of adulation that more may abound

The do-gooders are found

They are the red crosses in between fires

Who against the pleas of love bound

Give of their lives for the victims of trials

Their good is rarely sung

The do-gooders are either

Those who unsolicited helps render

Or those with the widow’s mite to tender

Though they put smiles on faces

They are never thanked in phases

The do-gooders are found

Like the green snake

In the green grass

In their noiseless footprints

Their faceless grants

Deficiency of ulterior motives

The do-gooders are rare.

DEHIN

Dehin o, Dende dehin!

Dehin o Dende, dehin

Tin ba de bode ma mapa falapa

Dehin o Dende, dehin

Tin ba de bode ma mese felese

Dehin o Dende, dehin

A social masquerade I am!

A special without season

Festivity all year round

Insensitive to askance faces

Dehin o Dende, dehin!

The black, white and blonde sponges

Fencing my temple and the eyes

Drawing you like magnet

Are gifts from sleeping souls

Of man pony or fibre

Dehin o Dende, dehin!

The fat around my face

Caused by layers of dust and mascara

Often beclouds my countenance

Till such a paint is caked off

Dehin o Dende dehin!

The aromatic stick that thickens my lips

The bluish blush that pales my face

The bogus tyre rims that burden my ears

The heavy lashes that roost upon my eyelids

I soon must set in sunder

Dehin o, Dende dehin !

These mobile claws of many colours

Agreeably seated on my forks

Have oppressed my nails too long

And shan’t be there much longer

Dehin o, Dende dehin!

Should you ignore the imposing chains

Around my neck, wrist and ankles

Blind not your eyes to my rainbow skin

The self-imposed act of utmost wickedness

I should willingly replay on others

Having inflicted same on self

Dehin o, Dende dehin!

When am done with these ceremonial costumes

That you so much adore

And through with the DE-ODOUR-ANT

On this walking corpse of mine

Twill be clear why I chant

Dehin o, Dende dehin!

* Dehin, in Yoruba language means "Desist" or "Go back" depending on the context.

* Dende is a name given to a male child

Translation of the first stanza:

Desist, Dende Desist

Desist, Dende Desist

When i get to the border

I will give hand to the owner

Desist, Dende Desist

When i get to the border

I will give legs to the owner

Desist, Dende Desist

SOUVENIR

There is a board of clay

That does its record play

With every passage of day

Boards of our lives!

Yellow, Black or White

So much recount our strives

The red lamps on the fore

Of yester tears recur

Or scaring stares of yore

That mouth never can tell

The wrinkled board that covers

May scream of empty coffers

Or plight of dirty labourers

Aside the creaming scrappers

The missing fragments of white boards

Lost in various loose words

Or in several gluttonous munching

The bearer well records

The various drooping heights

Are probably scared of lights

Illuminating their shameful sights

Unfruitful toils and numerous sighs

Bill boards of our lives!

Must you scream so much?

VIRTUOUS WOMAN

Women are sweet

We men are swift

Hardly tamed by one

But what would I do

With a thousand women

If you were not one

Say what would I do

With a harem of beauty

If you were not one

In the co-operation of riches

To pamper me

Lies my unreserved love

What with charming women

If the charm were wanting

When the times are trying

What with a zillion packs of favour

Lavished on me in courtship

If it were not present at home

In the long suffering

The persistent flow of favour

Unfleeting inner beauty

Lies the co-operation of wealth

To pamper me

WHO WILL BE A TEACHER?

If I were a pagan

In search of a slogan

Or better still redemption

I’d choose to be a soldier

Rather than be a teacher

The arduous way to heaven

A teacher’s reward is beyond

A soldier loots the world

And turns not the other cheek

A bonus to the first abused cheek

But a teacher never says stop

A sheep his character model

The arduous way to live

Who has the time to teach?

When hearing is all they do

Understanding they do not

I’ll rather use the sword

To get the pledge from them

The best of ways to lead

A soldier has it all

With little “Don’ts” to watch

A teacher watches it all

With little “Dos” of life

An arduous task of living

A soldier has no rule

Except to save his life

A teacher has no life

Except to live his teachings

An arduous way to teach

I’ll fight to save my life

Not teach to risk the same

I can’t await the Head- Teacher

Whose promise seems too far

You better save yourself

The easiest way to be

To be, to be

The easiest way to be

The rosy way of life

The world has learnt to choose

To choose, to choose

The world has learnt to choose

WHO WILL BE A TEACHER?

How safe are the Mighty ?

How safe are the mighty?

Even the short arm

Of the common can reach them

At the market place

In the kitchen

At the baby’s nappy

In the laundry

At the massive gate

Behind the delicate steering

On the dumb office floor

The ADC post

Think of it brother

How safe are the mighty?

Or shall I say another?

Who are the mighty?

How safe are the mighty

In the hands of the common?

How distanced is their safety?

From the omnipresent hand?

At the mercy of the cook

Whose mistress’ allergy

Forbids her entering kitchens

So with a poisoned cup

The master’s throat can hook

And madam’s laughter curb

In the absence of a taster

How safe? How safe?

In the stainless laundry

The master’s flowing robe is as gentle

As the baby’s nappy

Never resisting, never reporting

So with a lethal substance

The master’s flesh may skin

A little drop on the innocent wear

That is all it takes

How safe? How safe?

At the MASSIVE gate

While master slumbers on

Behind the delicate fanciful steering

As madam snores away

How safe? How safe?

How safe are the mighty?

The office is not a safe place

When the cleaner is aggrieved

Nor is security in Aide

When the mind is corrupt

How safe then are the mighty?

How safe? How safe?

In homeward journey from school

With innocent chattering of children

Unmindful of the driver’s mind

Who may choose to steal

Or the little things to still

Lies the safety of the mighty

But because the common

With their short memory

In the momentary pleasure

Forget their fits of anger

Against the rape of justice

Of the bestial mighty

And the lack, pain and hunger

That feed on their class

Perhaps the awe of their creator

Or of a jobless tomorrow

The scolding faces of wives

The tearful eyes of hungry babes

The uncertain voices of his class

The innocent offspring of the mighty

Have coldly stayed his revengeful fist

What then shall we say?

Because the mighty

Are not so called

And the common

Are not so dubbed

Let the MANY continue to be COMMON

And the FEW continue to be MIGHTY

Until the many discovers

The strength that is in number

THE HEAD OF TAIL

The Head of state

The sense of state

Self-acclaim all knowing

Uneasy part of state

The heady part of state

The focus of state

The end of state

The EYE of state

That fails to see

The light of state

That fails to shine

That head may not be vexed

Except the rotund picture

Of his master’s measure

By the mouth of state

The MOUTH of state

The voice of Ale

And noise that’s stale

Rants while silence is golden

Mums while rapid raps embolden

That head may not be vexed

The long shut mouth

Emitting lethal stench

The EAR of state

The fear of state

Diseased of state

From every junk consume

And every one infect

That head may nod aright

It hears the head aright

But shuns the “BUSY-BODY”

The untiring Grumbletonia

The NOSE of state

The noose of sage

Familiar with stately stench

Abhorrence of RATLY odour

The RATS so neatly soiled

Rebellious Against The State

Inspite of bodily claim

That STARS are not rats

But Savers That Are Rebuffed

Should head be all a-lined

And body be so un-mind

Shall we be right to say

That HEAD is head of TAIL

Or THE END OF STATE