The poet in the poem
By Yas Niger
Copyright 2014 Yas Niger
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Table of content
Prologue
Chapter 1 Of the body
Chapter 2 Of the heart
Chapter 3 Of the mind
Chapter 4 Of the soul
Epilogue
Alphabetical index
About the work
About the author
Prologue
The poet mans the helm,
The cruise his composed poem.
* * *
Chapter 1: Of the body
The flesh’s demand is so goody,
As sure as it is of the body.
TODDLER
Babbler’s spittle drips as crawled,
Nice rosy cheeks behind sprawled,
Innocence pure and surely brawled.
STAIRS
Climb or fall these stairs
With my thoughts and fears.
Cheering amidst cries,
Roaming these same lairs.
In agony no one cares
And victory everyone shares.
In dark shadows for jeers
Or painting an admirer tears.
If I ascend to what’s theirs
Or descend to suit my peers;
I can only pluck my hairs,
No one ever does satisfies.
Picking what’re life’s wares,
For my life are my own stairs.
CLOUDS OF SALT (Hadarin gishiri)
Skies are drumming,
The body joins in too.
Clouds are partying,
Invited winds are too.
The body is hurrying,
All corpses are met.
Real hot or chilling,
Salty must be wet.
Sama na kidi,
Jiki ya dauka.
Hadari na biki,
Ya gaiyache iska.
Jiki na sauri,
Kowa na mushe.
Ko zafi, ko dari,
Gishiri sai ya jike.
TEMPTATION
Misty prospects in the skies
Yet this sun blurs the eyes,
While the bright light of day
Carries the whole mind astray.
The bride of shame courts
Yearnings, fantasies and lusts.
The comforts of home pushes,
Sin’s cold hands outside urges.
Can man sneeze or not
Or blink like it is his sort?
To run at first sighting
Or just dare all tempting,
This he never will elude;
His ways must all conclude.
Not all his wishes go to sea.
For lust, many beaches only will see.
THE OLD WOMAN’S MAID
History itself nourished,
It might’ve thus been humbled.
In her need she’s again banished
And her steered nurses, all bundled.
Seasons are overlapped famished,
All the shaft and wheat are rumpled.
Her senile stroll is beautifully enriched
And for nothing else, her maids are long rustled.
PIGGIES
When I go to market, another stays at home.
If you had roast beef, another had the bone.
Funny how all cry (we); and still end with none.
AGAIN
Tomorrow will come again
With its morning and night,
Feignedly new with rain,
In fervent dark and bright.
ALONE
Taste speech my brother,
Crave for words in reply.
Yearn to see yet another,
To see, touch and go by;
For lonely is every breather.
BITTER
Sweet is straight yet unclear,
Always new with its old fare.
But bitter doesn’t ever share,
Though it is sinister but sincere,
So real and that shade unfair.
TALE OF TWO PEOPLE
Up on the plateau they reigned,
Their own old clans so formed.
Hidden on the height’s plain,
Living in plenty’s much rain.
They welcome guests well,
As prosperous strangers tell.
Soon dominance is so evident
And for the sold they want rent.
Wherever time is so kept,
Such a place has it since left.
Two is never again one unless
One is expunged and no less.
Identity established so firm,
Fights a war not for their farm.
Bullying their co-farmers’ yield
With poised spears and a shield.
MIGHTY FLEA
And where are you off to
You little mite, busy so so?
To gather as you go through
Or borrowing to hide down low?
This wind that carry you
Draws a ring as you sing.
For one that reigns so true
You live shorter than you bring.
Your bite is so you can live
Like all who prey on fatality.
How true it is, in all who live,
That death is but a formality.
PHILANTHROPY
Every moment we ably blink,
Yet it’s some big deal to wink.
PRESENTLY OLD
The bud’s blossom is past glossy,
Time passing has folded its shiver.
Age wither and dry up the rosy
In certain preparation for shivah.
The past left without all of its,
As the present live any place else.
And now, always alone like this;
How then can the old ever bless?
Dryness of thirst spoke its waste
As all bare feet thorns had hurt.
Peacefully alone, wait for fate
With memories in a bodily hut.
When time has consumed its old
As water passes under the bridge;
This route for all, floods any hold
And water must pass under the bridge.
MY FRIEND
Again and again it’s replayed,
Assistance not even repaid.
Acquaintance that made an Us,
Not maintained with new status.
But I heard your smile
Come across another mile.
I saw your heart and felt
Your mind like mine, melt.
I’m in harmony with you
And I perceive this as true.
You’re my friend come pain,
Or still over and over again.
LET IT RAIN
Clear as skies have ever been,
Then stirred a slight breeze.
Gently woke a dusty scene,
Helpless pedestrians sneeze.
A clouds’ parade is called;
Smoky pawns first appear.
From the horizon they strolled
With a breeze winded in despair.
Officers’ darker mien show,
As an angry thicken sky spread.
The world’s mood goes slow,
For a brief moment, in dread.
Suddenly the
tempo is upped,
Like an adrenaline spiked heart.
The living world all robbed
Of all its plans as droplets pat.
The tar-less streets go empty,
As commerce pauses in pain.
Hawkers shelter all so hasty
As the clouds cry, let it rain.
IT RAINED
Sleep is death everyday
And dreams, the after life.
Morning wakes Lazarus
Into a very moist terminus.
The birds call out stops,
Jetting in over roof tops.
The sun arrives from the east,
In its twelve hourly haste.
Wingless termites each pair,
From glassy littered floors appear.
Lizards leave damp cracks
Amidst frogs’ conducted croaks.
Each awakes as another
To catch the day younger.
The wet early mood hurried;
For surely last night it rained.
DATE
Silly days made our teens,
Sorting out our teething genes.
Over those moons, new till old
Our hormones shiver their cold.
Tasting all those many dishes;
Many we met with their witches,
Others we borrowed and mended,
But lots we created and trended.
The sting of disappointments sore,
Betrayal and pain and much more.
Ageing fear is sour but caught;
Yet still we trove amidst death.
To all morrows we cherished
That date we shared perished,
And thank it so for that spice
It puts into this new date so nice.
MASSES
Where the eagles dare
The vulture does fear.
We’re weaklings there,
Patience stole our lair.
Anthills grew where
A colony learns to bear.
That beach is so near
When a lost ship cheer.
PREDATOR
Wisdom is the Owl’s,
Opened eyed it saw
Cooking sun bowels
Blurs its sight more.
Little shows the moon,
Like stars in the dark.
To hunt it glides as soon
As dusk shows its back.
The prey that hides
From shine of day
See less of the rides
And the Owl’s hurray.
ZOO KEEPERS
The chimps’re gaily as will ever
As the fauna king will rule never.
Penned in a checkered metal home,
Their chatter and roar a collective hum.
Huge trumpeters cupped for show
As archaic aquatic lizard’s flow.
Their mud puddles not more free
Than the walled rivers to be or see.
Eagle soars only in its mind
And serpents share their kind.
All the skies they see and saw
Lost like their choices as before.
BREASTS OF DOOM
O’ home,
I fear I am gone.
If I do return,
Rename me the sun.
O’ my nest,
Born to be the best,
Even when I die of thirst,
My last drop you will have first.
O’ this world,
Spare me a word.
Call me anything,
At least say something.
O’ uncertainty,
You cloud my sanity;
My consciousness you cover,
So do please roll over.
O’ hunger,
A cause for bother.
Those you’ve punished,
Deceived and banished.
O’ misery,
You’re a mystery
That hushes the brave
And starve the grave.
O’ life,
Where is your sight?
Drop the knife
And use some light.
O’ kindness,
Born of happiness;
May your reward be no other
Than your blessed mother.
O’ loneliness,
So many about,
Yet in your meanness
You cast me out.
O’ death,
Why express your might
On good fate
And make its wards the late?
O’ fate
Watch my tears.
Please make me the late
Or show me someone who really cares.
O’ people,
How can you be so simple
Yet so mean,
As if it is no sin?
O’ future,
Come in whatever nature,
Just promise me;
In my place my child you’ll see.
O’ child,
For whom I roam,
Is it youth that is blind
Or I chest breasts of doom?
MOST LOST
Who says we are most alone
When we are with the most?
And all alone with its none;
Enjoying life at its own worst?
Attempting to be on our own
We had often found its cost;
Sought glories for the stone
And won prizes we had all lost.
TEARS
Boiling pots let off steam,
Pressured heat sweats a beam.
Merrily down a peopled stream,
Tears must decimate life’s film.
SO?
Let us play a game of trading places,
Pausing triggers of mud slinging tongues.
Viewing with glasses that mirror chances,
We’ll find all toes fit the shoes it belongs.
BREEDS
The mind eats, then it sleeps.
Where it sits, there it breeds.
Then it would end and cease,
Leave in hope for some peace.
Still this life ever only breeds,
If what it learns today it heeds.
SWINE
Who makes the most noise
And is as dirty in his poise?
Who soils his needs as toys
And spoils all his ego hoist?
MATE (Kishiya)
So she said to I,
“To all women as I,
My mate is better than I,
What did she do to him and I?
Or had I failed him as I,
To make him withdraw from I?
How else do you interpret to I,
It’s envy or it’s all male to I?”
Haka ta che,
“Wa ni da duk mache,
Kishiya ta ta fi ni.
Ko ya ta yi da shi, da ni?
Ko de na kasa,
Har ya sa ya fasa?
Ko ya zaka fasara,
Kishi ne, ko duniya na maza?”
MUSICAL NATURE
The beats of sounds speaks out
To be heard outside thought.
Taught mind holds out its arms
Which melodies caress and disarms.
Balance placed all around is
Fondly rolled out like this.
With august carpets welcomed
To change moods succumbed.
Beauty revealed in rhythm
That alone fills the chasm,
Teach that nature is a song
Sang in the world it belong.
Listening to living all about,
Natural in whisper or shout.
Speaking like a language
For all alive, of every age.
This one common dialect
That nature would select,
To talk to all its wards
Over whom it does lords.
Into the rhymes of beats
Even the soul also eat
s.
For the monastery of man
Isn’t too lonely to jam.
Drummed beats within ribs
Carry breath beyond its cribs.
Heard inside ears’ own confine
Till sound buries its own coffin.
This atmospheric gaol of man
He has only, all he does plan.
In its whirl spin of mystery,
It entertains man’s misery.
Trunk sounds nosy trumpets
Like fluty birds in high nests.
Peckers tap wooden gongs
As leggy harps chirp songs.
The hiss lull of breezy air
And crescendo a storm blare;
Conducts brown, green and blue
Into a harmony hardly new.
As sound speaks and entertain,
Nature so musically maintain
The oneness of all it breeds;
Sanely soothing all it feeds.
The metaphor portrays the act
That cannot dispute the fact;
That the fruit of this only life
Metamorphose with all alive.
MOUNTAIN
My mood goes up and down a mountain,
Too inspired by the challenge to refrain.
Wary of the danger that’s being embraced,
So cautious of the consequence, if disgraced.
Confused at the reason why anyone must,
Scared of the height beckoning my lust.
Struggling up the first ledge as I edge up,
Proud to have made it up my own little top.
Further up more battles, the way is yet more.
Betrayed by falling rocks I yearn for before;
Holding on to dear life, yet another average.
Dejected by unfriendly weather and also age.
Angry to slip off the steep, rubbed in bruises.
Disappointed to lose the gained just pushes;
Gasping up yet another route should matter,
In time it comes to never prove any better.
Surprised by the like company all about,
Reason enough for such to pine on without
The appreciation my efforts and gains deserve.
Tired yet gladden by that view, a pleasure.
Knowing I cannot stay forever there on top.
When and not if I return grounded from up;
Normal should I be again, only different
With experience and lessons time can’t dent.
If I return pushed from its highest cliff’s edge
Or in honour received at finished time’s verge,
I’ll wrestle my older age’s embers of last mood;
Helplessly watch it win all my trophies and food.
DAMNING
When the heard child laughs
Because he or she is yet to learn
That the human’s hate bathes
Itself with a very muddy hand.
When the grown up man
Looks another in the face
With the sympathy he can,
Yet his steps he retrace.
When the means so abound
And situations led are bred,
So that no bread is found
Or all the many needy fed.
When the minds of people
Work in a pattern so futile
To their every tiny single
Breath and existing smile.
When the scale is tilt
In favour of the weight
Of the gold and its guilt
Not honour at its height.
When the support falters,
For man chooses to urinate
In his salads and waters
On the earth he can’t imitate.
When all that exists
Speaks for the destination,
Then man opens all the exits
And runs out in damnation.
RACES
They get set, ready and go.
To where? God only will know.
Revolting round earthly tracks
Which knows not their tasks.
Their quests are not visible
Or even humanly sensible.
Competing with complexions,
Hairs, noses and eyes in nations.
What wins these long races
That recognizes their faces,
Will not justify the future;
For races aren’t their nature.
AFRICA
Darkest people ever found,
A huge pistol points wrong.
If here man got his sound;
Earth, Africa is your song.
THE SLEEPER
Why’ll this air carry a plane
And not carry me alone too,
Or indeed a speech in its vein
Across nothing instantly true.
Why will a big city of a ship
Sail oceans leagues in depth
And I sink in a pool as I sleep,
Like many tiny pebbles too wept.
I see no answer in practice
Or reason in their pattern.
Where a dream does surface,
There my sleep shows concern.
ASABA
Her entire short life is dirge like,
In her daily rounds so silly alike.
Abnormally brained, genes had made;
A persistent dirty joke, harmlessly made.
Asaba is the neighbourhood’s fool,
Nurturing our moods into a little fool.
The gloom that is her poor mind
Caresses our passions, so we mind.
In a puddle she plays herself by.
Scaring kids as she staggers by.
Gracious mums use this apt fear.
Life cannot be all good and fair.
WOUNDS OF THE WORLD
Visible cuts we saw,
Deep set and so raw.
It had the pretty torn
And the beholder run.
Worn with its pride
As any true bride.
A scar from a war
Is like a lion’s roar.
Not on Everest’s peak
Must anyone do seek,
For even on all hills
Are these worlds ills.
The baby that cries,
Steals away and tries;
To be his own parent,
Where he is only sent.
That spouse out back;
Behind one Holy Ark,
Leaves the same vow
Yet remains, some how.
They; as many, are
So near and not far.
Wounds made bold
In this very world.
MRS QUEEN, MISS KING
“How do I tell how you feel,
Sitting on this height’s will?
Personal love trapped within,
Expectations curbing peace in.”
“I can easily say your state,
As only a child truly taste.
For love within is personal,
Our judges are then eternal.”
THE WORLD IN A LITTLE ROOM
What you have seen before now
Is nothing like you will yet know.
Mountains higher than the clouds
Or galaxies from fictional worlds
Will flash before you in fast floods.
The breath of a lung transits
Or to anti-bodies a virus submits.
The skeleton of a lonely fetus,
As that of a Mammoth is shown us
And not a scene is ever a loss.
The Red sea had betrayed
The depth’s Egyptians embraced.
White Mountains of ice only
In the south pole melts slowly
As you watch it all so warmly.
Roof of this world up high
Marbles the earth down here.
Clusters of fish eggs hatches,
Soldier ant worker matches,
As its eyelids
blinks its lashes.
The wedding of a Queen’s maid
Or a Roman shield in a pyramid.
A shark outwit a dozen sailors,
Unlike Caesar in his senate of traitors
Centuries ago showed their failures.
A terrorist and freedom fighter
Are both made a fire and its lighter.
A domesticated wolf devours a man,
For a just reason it is shown it can.
You enjoy the deserts’ heat under a fan.
Bloody vessels in vain roam a sea,
A ghost discusses and drinks tea.
The passengers of an old plane crash
Board the same plane again and smash.
The wealth you see leaves you no cash.
Every conceivable game is played
By men, animals and plants displayed.
The thickest clouds parade the sky
On pillars Himalayans peak up high
Or over raging ocean waters they fly.
Dancing birds dressed up to mate,
Two collapsing towers dust their fate.
The deepest valleys in the ocean waters
Reveal their secrets nature only alters
And nothing else in the world matters.
The uproar of a stampede crowds on,
Boiling heat erupting within the sun.
Sudden death stills a pumping heart,
A sprints heat repeated again from start
And the tracks appear your viewing mat.
Ash, gas and molten are experienced
As a volcano erupts its bowels so tensed.
Frogs hopping on water incredibly,
Like a pebble tossed so skillfully.
Sand storms windowed so luxuriously.
Satan’s countless personifications,
Lords of every era that raped nations.
Dancers of every race, sort and style,
Every single bubble in a mug of ale.
You see the characters in every tale.
The sparingly dressed wives in a harem,
Cardinal and son talk as you hear them.
A good view beneath a standing Scot’s kilt,
All the happenings in a billionaire’s treat.
Everything within sight, with every tilt.
Bullets leaving a closed steel chamber,
A pierced lung as all its air wonder.
Endless flocks of Pelicans go south,
Yellow cloud of Monarchs flicker north,
Their beauty fills every mind with thought.
Angels shielding a saint on a mission,
A nerve’s twitching response to a decision.
Ant like pedestrians on a city street,
That unsympathetic, selfish and proud fleet
Leaving tastes bitter, salty, sour and sweet.
Man’s endless quest for unknown perfections
Blurs minds with omissions and commissions.
The constructed aids in their achieved means
Entertain, educate and inform all the beings,
Yet in all its glory, humanity’s future it weans.
THE HEN’S ODD CHICK
The grass blades shake off droplets
As she led on her mild yellow train.
Her own adorable dozen little pets
Squealing within their own tiny rain,
Before the morning dew finally melts
And all the worms go deep down again.
She beaks a large borrowing worm
And they crowd round her as quick,
Wrestle the struggling stringy form
From her higher and bigger beak.
They pieces it all amongst their sum,
Except again that weird odd chick.
Scratching off the sandy soil top
To pick and feed on the grains sort,
The serious Hen and her low troop;
All except that chick which does not.
Strangely though in a marshy mud top
It walks easily as fed with its beak blunt.
Then it happens like it does always,
Her dozen subtracts after and after.
At the stream where a worm ever plays
Danger is more and always there to alter.
The odd chick water takes in its ways;
Strangely it floats on, to the Hen’s whimper.
STRONG
Mine has come to this one thing,
Appreciated and loved for my sun
Was, is and will be in everything.
As able then stays man’s proud son;
Strength is always but much nothing,
It lost out as strategy ever again won.
COMMON
I try wetin I fit
With all dem gist.
I join, cook, wait!
Water yet, no meat.
SWEET
That haste of taste
All too late to waste.
FLIES AND LIES
In so many eggs
Form these pests,
With hairy legs
And little nests.
Homelessly so
They come alive.
Into lives they saw
Like a heartless knife.
Hollow dreams,
Misty realizations.
Spiteful screams
Claps consolations.
Hopes are meals
Infected in feeding.
Health it steals
With insidious seasoning.
Into lives
Glide monsters,
Flee and leaves
Sorrow in clusters.
Sightless lie
Full of might,
Visible fly
Trading fright.
Coming true
In various ways.
Ever they’re new
In buzzing forays.
Mail your worst,
Untrue are lies.
Come the most
You’re just flies.
TOMORROW
And come
It home.
That window;
Our mirror.
It makes
As wakes.
Another date
For fate.
Another day.
Oops, away!
Lets pray
And say.
The morrow
Will show
Us about,
Run, shout;
Shoulders high,
“Tomorrow’s here!”
LAND OF SAND
Wheels of fortune
Sing your cheeky tune.
Life is a man
Dancing all he can.
Loose as sand,
Lord of all the land.
In all this fuss
You wonder what he has.
FRIEND OF FOE
After taking stock of our relationships
And how we all manage to practice them,
With the thorough scan of stewardships
Serving or waiting on this our system.
I come to the stunningly true conclusion
That there is always a thin line between
A foe or a friend in this summation
And it is there for all to lose or win.
It is as thin as is the common thread
Or as is any selfish or selfless whim
That guides man’s search for bread
Or his thoughts, his actions or him.
LITTLE, LITTLE ANT
O little, little, tiny ant;
Do you wonder who I am,
Standing big moving plant,
Always about to do you harm.
FINE TIMES
Winners so abound,
Strapped and bounded.
Elated all around,
Joyously dumb-founded.
Those fine times
Speaks for all kinds.
Saying as do chimes,
That time do binds.
Rare times of winning
Revealing all missing;
Fingers in the mitten.
ZEBRA CROSSING
Long nights had passed by,
I still stray into the dream.
My tears had filled my try,
My beaten milk isn’t cream.
Donkey’s years pass on along
And made me an ass all alone.
Donkey’s oversized head belong
To the horses my very fate own.
The will shade appear itself
And I can not be too careful.
In crossing to my other half,
I find I am the Zebra’s fool.
SLUG
As we moan in our far watch;
Nagging our peopled conscience,
We miss out entirely that the catch
Is made up of all our overt nonsense.
A large rich island just drags on,
Not for the size it must always hug.
The bulk of it lost the very reason
Why rich minds will make it a slug.
TOO DARK FOR THE SUN
Shade’s own place in the sun;
Like the shadow’s that will run,
Is hidden from its glories glare
With the truth they all must bear.
THE WAR THAT WON A BATTLE
The rocky coast of Macbeth’s fate
Must be taken up to be like the bait
That clips the pet Eagle’s keen claws
Or ties up a feeding Croc’s weak jaws.
The lesson in any story is found
And in any form it will astound
The minute detail of our simple act
Or corrects excesses in our daily act.
LEAVE (Bari)
If you refuse to leave,
Surely it will still cease.
Because the night is dark;
The sun ensures it is back.
In ka ki ka ji bari,
Lalle za ka ga bari.
Domin dare ne sakon;
Rana ne mai bakon.
HEADS OR TAILS
Toss the coin all your life,
Balance on edges of a knife.
Whither roam your own course
If life to you is just a lone farce.
Are you not lost in thought;
Like the canine who fought
His own tail round and round,
With its very head not sound?
HANDFUL OF CLAY
That simple deed you daily handle
Reveal so much about how you work.
Just as everybody carries their bundle
Of life’s joy and sorrow that will mock.
That piece of action you handle
Reveal your final piece of work.
Just like every artist’s own bundle
Of clay would praise and also mock.
PROSTITUTES
Most prostitutes are normal bodies,
Hard workers doing their oddities;
Which seem unpopular so visibly,
So they can continue to feed boldly.
Circumstances they try to overcome,
Upturned obstacles making them so,
Resembling every other fleshed bone
With less hypocrisy and shyly so sour.
They are not traders selling a bodily asset,
They rent out for material gain and power
Like the more popular, with more respect;
Unlike political integrity, with less shower.
BLOSSOM
The freshness of a blossom
Will wither, fall and dry.
All this earth so awesome,
Ends and will all die.
OUR HOMES
It was always dark in all it lack;
All living again, though to us all,
Today it still lingers far off back
In that long night we still do fall.
These cultures that speak the person
Say an Abiku again is every one of us.
For common reason proves a season,
That only event ended and started us.
When the cries over sharia had settled,
We ran and scattered the town’s streets.
Homeless, dead and alive all kettled;
Schemed and steamed out of fair streets.
After all, a rope always starts and ends,
Then it is just after all rope in between.
All of man is birth and the dead ends,
In between is life; man is in between.
After dusk, all return to their own home.
The swine’s streets of our homes will then
Not be as good again to even just roam,
For the transit pen is now a lion’s den.
THESE CLICHÉS
Do they reap what they sow?
I’ve wondered as long as I come.
Often enough it has been as before,
They bury the hive yet have the comb.
Spare the rod and lose the child,
Same as many who didn’t at all.
The least expected child went wild
While the worst possible stands tall.
Surely and steady wins the said race,
But the rash in haste, are long gone to lose.
The patient keeps the bone or the chase,
The flesh it devoured only with its nose.
One step at a time is the long walk,
It has shown so many their goal.
That more had lived this same talk,
They still are now staring at a wall.
Rome was not built in a single day;
But it was conceived in just one.
What just any man really is anyway
Was a mere thought that was none.
HOME
To man, as he ponders;
Home holds wonders
That marries his flow
Or just drags his plow.
Till his toiling ends,
Coming home fends.
But its demands say
Much is there to play.
When all is all down
And all the days done;
Being home is to say
The most sure all day.
LUCK SUCKS
“Well,” they ever said indifferently,
“You can’t eat your cake and have it.”
‘Bug off!’ I puff out most angrily,
‘You happen to do so every minute.’
“Ah! But it is so, my mate and son,”
They grin with eyes all a sly glint.
“We can all have the same bait on,
Yet I catch and you are still skint.”
‘Never alive?’ I wonder not so loud.
‘Like déjà vu?’ And I’m yet helpful.
“Where many danced your dance proud,
You will be jeered and hailed a fistful.”
‘Is it me then, and my own luck?
Need I add fate, destiny’s slut?’
“We agree to prove only to mock.”
‘Then I’ll set bait and eat my lot.’
LIGHT OF DEATH (Hasken Mutuwa)
With fools death is celebrated,
For understanding gains height.
When death is communicated.
The moon hides its very light;
Today it’s clear, tomorrow cremated.
Da wawa a ke rawan mutuwa,
Domin haske na chan sama.
Ranan da dare ya ga mutuwa,
Wata za bache daga sama.
Yau da haske, gobe mutuwa.
MOUTHING PIOUS PLATITUDE
Two gentlemen of the world met,
Sitting on a park bench together.
They shared as their extremes let,
Yet their unique talents will hinder.
Pious is the madman, who lives here;
His abode ignored but litters the world.
Platitude, a Professor that goes there,
To seclude from the kind his
world mould.
Crazy in his rags and papered home,
Pious welcomes his regular guest’s tale.
The rotten egg welcoming the bone;
Like a dog, he shows off his one tail.
They converse about a news item;
The learned Prof reads off his News daily.
Forwarding arguments befitting them,
Each reasoned man’s folly mainly.
Teachers sought reason for the sane,
Making sense of theories as realities.
While the insane do the very same,
Realities as theories are certainties.
In ostentatious escapades of the mad
Roams religious virtue so uncommon
And in sanity’s commonness easily had
Grows the loose morality we do summon.
Embedded in their platonic briefs
Is the story of their common child;
Man’s common sense and beliefs,
Are like madmen’s, when all are blind.
SUICIDE
From where comes all this dew,
Delighting thoughts with to chew.
Soothing pressures that boo,
But sound frightfully so lewd.
I grabbed the wind horn I blew,
For I alone do hear it so true.
A loss I think I’ll cause you,
The pains might escape a few.
My swift scheme hardly new,
Like good cheats daring who.
Life is the full pot of new stew
Emotional foot found with its shoe.
EVEN ODDS
Truth salts,
Like tears.
And paths,
Reveal fears.
Night sleeps,
Light wakes.
Sheep reaps,
Ant makes.
When ripe,
Eat fruit.
Every life
Has soot.
Yoked, alone;
They peered.
Even stone
Has feared.
Even odds
Can even.
Even odds,
Odds even.
THAT OLD PAST
I miss a lot I never saw,
Its still aloft yet old as raw.
I missed much I still can hear,
All that such still remains here.
I miss old ways in past years,
Those old nays and crude yeas.
I crave for the meal I never ate;
Yearn so much for a feel I never met.
I miss soft tapping finger tips,
Strapped swinging held swaying hips,
Swishing feet on glittering marbled floors,
Flowing gowns, paired feet in coupled fours.
I miss good music guided by tiny sticks,
Quiet audiences in silent peace that reeks.
And when they dance, its like a mute hymn,
Tapping away on hard soles, following a rhythm.
I miss husky sleepy humming lullabies,
With honest night stories full of nice lies.
I miss trained hands on black and white ivory keys,
And the sweet old past would ever numb all knees.
BORN TO SIN
Sin is not just outside, somewhere;
From where it comes without fear,
Disintegrating our shelled defenses;
To break and consume our senses.
It is inside us, just right within,
Where it sees through us so thin
And struggles to appear right out,
To roam and enjoy its world about.
Alive so well to breed its yield;
It pushes and urges us to build
A worldly home for it and us
To wait outside, in mutual loss.