something is singing inside.... the inner voices, the songs are singing inside

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Salute the Cloth

Salute! – salute the power-breeding cloth,
Purchased in any city market;
Government tailors provide buttons and collars,
Salute the cloth
Bought with funds from our public till,
Salute! – salute the power-generating garment.
Attention! – pay attention to the uniform men,
Carrying the almighty – the almighty gun;
Pay attention, when in their consistent manner
They inform you about how they police the nation,
How they police your future.
Obey! – obey all orders,
Because sometimes while policing there is
Little need to be civil,
As stubborn civilians learn
After they have been bloodied.
Obey! – obey, stop and search later for your rights
On the pages of imaginative tabloids,
Obey! when the uniform polices the state.

March! – march with the starched khaki
When they eject ruling rogues
From our public castles,
March! – march with them as they play
Their game of musical chairs
With the looters in Agbada.
Still the fruit of Eden has touched their lips,
And in spite of numerous handovers
The power-breeding cloth intends to stay!

Make Dem Checkout

Dem dey speak through dem nose,
Dey talk like oyinbo,
Like person wey no dey shit :
“Hey men, how’re you doing”,
American slang dem sabi well well,
But wetin concern dem with de
Language of dem Papa?
Invite dem for parti,
Dem no dey chop African food,
If you no get spaghetti, salad,
Abi chicken and chips,
Dem no go chop.
Na only oyinbo sound dem go dance,
No play Fela, Sunny or Warrior o!
Just give dem de latest sound from US of A.
Even dem hair must resemble oyinbo own,
See dem as dem dey pose:
E dey wear dress wey im buy for London,
Shoe wey im get from Rome,
Shirt wey dem buy from Rome,
Shirt wey dem buy from Washington,
E don tay since we don independent,
Still some people dey, wey get
Oyinbo-made mentality,
De only advice wey I get for
Dose kain people be say :
Make dem checkout!

Saturday, April 16, 2011


Sometimes when you are building
I am also building,
We go without food because we are building,
Because this building requires sweat,
It needs money,
It feeds on people,
And so some die, others starve.

Meanwhile, we are still building;
I build to shield myself from your rocks and stones,
You build  to shelter yourself from my imminent ambush,
And so we build and the building consumes more
Because this building requires sweat,
It needs on money,
It feeds on people ,
And some die, others starve.

When we build we carry the tools of our trade,
We carry swords and machetes
And knives and axes,
Then we scream: “PEACE”,
We cry: “No MORE WAR !”
But still we build
Like we are building to the skies,
But will there be fire-extinguishers?
Will we hear the screams of fire?
Will we smell the deadly fumes?
Will we smell the deadly fume?
Still the force of building has taken control
And the building continues,
Because this building requires sweat,
It needs money,
It feeds on people,
And some die and others starve.

Bring your Candle

E be like say I dey for darkroom
Without window
Without door
Eferiwhere jus dark patapata.
E be like say I get one hungiry
Wey chop no fit quench
De hungiry dey wire me
From morning reach night.

I sabi say darkness go quench
Wen you bring your candle
I sabi say hungiry go pafuka
Wen you bring your chop.
Bring your candle make we see together
Bring your chop make we chop bellewise.
Na only you fit killi de darkness
Na only you fit quench my hungiry.
Come now:
Na only you ! ! !

Monday, February 14, 2011

Azania Calls

Take me !
Take me to rivers and oceans,
Take me to the Nile,
So I may fill my belly
and rinse my body in African waters.

Lead me!
Lead me to mountains and hills,
Lead me to Kilimanjaro,
So I may feed my eyes
On the vast riches of Africa.

Take me!
Take me to deserts,
Take me to Sahara,
So, that my feet may dance to the beat of the burning African soil.

Lead me!
Lead me to Soweto and Alexandria,
Lead me to Azania,
Lead me to where our captured land and stolen gold and enslaved brethren wait for me,

Lead me!
For I have swam in whale-eating oceans,
I have climbed sky-kissing mountains,
I have walked on fire-burning deserts,
Take me ! lead me !
Azania calls

Brain Wetin?

Weder na pain or na gain
Abi na drain or train
Dem say na only person
Wey get brain
Go gain

But answer me!
Before I give you pain:
You don see somebody
Wey no get brain?

Wen you put leg
For de train
Dem go talk say you no patriotic
You no love your contri.
But wetin man pickin go do
Afta oga saboteur
Don spoil contri finis?

Dem call am brain drain
Becos you tire for chain of
Waka waka unemploy.

Brain wetin?
Dat one na foul!
Make you lef de people
Wey get chance
Make dem go service dem brain
For place where
respect dey for brain.

Friday, February 4, 2011

An Injury to One

I have sighted the branch,
And I see another,
Many branches – all fathered by the same tree.

Scattered branches,
But do not doubt their strength,
Don’t laugh at the unique  branches,
Who fuse and become one,
Instead pity their common enemy.

The steam-roller churns out messages,
Puffing and puffing,
Steam-rollers threaten,
But, a broken arm helps a maimed leg,
How many loud barks can chain the spirit
Of common purpose?

Puffing, but do you see the dungeons
Decent men are forced to work in?
Puffing, what about the weightless wages
You dole out from your profit mountain?
Still the steam-roller puffs,
And we tighten our bond,
For we must resist the wheel
Of ravenous masters.

Halt the machine !
We will stop the wheels
Of those who
Mix our sweat and blood
To form granite for
The foundation of their country homes.

We will not beg
For what is ours
Which has been taken by force
By the giants of business.

But now,
We will charge ourselves,
Wear our battle fatigue,
March forward
And sing our song:
Together we must come,
Together we must be one.

Bloody Civilian

For de rest of my life e get one night I no go forget,
In Ilorin after our band play finis,
We jus wan drop band members for house o,
Na so soja stop us for Muritala junction,
Dem say our moto no wan stop for dem,
See me trouble!
Bifor I talk one, two, three,
Dey don show say na khaki dey wear
Dem no wan hear any explain,
Kai! Wetin we do?
We dey look oursef like unknown mumu wey don miss road,
Na so we dey hear: “Who dey talk grammar with you?”,
Oga captain dey hala: “Give me my bulala, give me de belt,
Na today you frog jump to Port-Harcourt with immediate effect!”
Fela na you talk say "Uniform na cloth, na tailor dey sew am"
Dem point gun at us, gun  wey dey take our moni buy,
Dem dey kick us like football with de boot
Wey dey take our moni buy,
For dat night my eye clear well, well,
For dat night my human right dey sleep
Whereas man pickin dey suffer,
Dem carri gun so uniform dey talk,
Na for dat night I come sabi
De meaning of BLOODY CIVILIAN!

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Inside Singing

Nigeria is not where it should be

Development is a stranger

Growth moves in reverse gear

The environment stinks

Of dashed hopes.

We see pockets of comfort and wealth

Unfulfilled dreams have taken over the landscape

Joblessness roams the land

Poverty is an ever present, unwanted guest striping us bare.

And the desire for understanding is chased out of town.

Troubled youths look for direction.

Elders pray for wisdom.

Most search for answers.

The outside appears bleak.
But there is singing inside.

On the inside there are deep, vast oceans

Of immense love, anger, passion and hope for the country.

Let's talk, sing

about these contrdaictions

affecting our lives

holding the country down.

Nigerians must take their country back

Read more on: Inside Singing Nigeria Poetiri and Poems

Allow me Rest

I run go north
East and west no where I no enta
And man scatter go south
Eferibodi dey ask say wetin I dey fain.

I climb Kilimanjaro
I don waka  waka for Sahara
I enta ocean like fish
People think say man
Wan run mental.
Wetin I dey fain?
I fain am for sleep
I fain am for chop
I fain am for work
Wetin I dey fain?

I no fit challenge Tyson
I no be Maradona
But dem nefer born de person
Wey go stop me from
De thin I dey fain.
Na immediate I see you
Na immediate I see you
My mind jus coole like ocean breeze:
Make you allow me rest
Becos na you I dey fain.

Monday, January 24, 2011

Power Show

The show is on all day,
Power  show, everyday
When the powers flex their muscles.
On busy  Awolowo road,
Or on congested Western avenue,
Sirens signal the presence of the powers,
Road close in the suffocating traffic;
Under the sun that burns.

We watch by-force the convoy-show,
Under the rain that weeps,
We watch by-force the convoy-show,
Unwilling spectators,
We watch free-of-charge the power show.
When we get checked at gun-point,
We watch by-force,
“Too much grammar ‘ will earn you slaps,
And from the mouths of the uniform
Missiles of abuse are sent.

We watch and watch
And watch out for stray bullets,
As we watch by-force,
We watch free-of-charge.
In the elephant-government offices,
In hot rooms
Where air-coolers started their strike
The day after the big office was opened,
Engines are stopped,
As clerks and officers
“Cannot trace crucial files”,
Until Naira is used to power starving engines.
At the ports,
You must go with powerful tradition
And obey ancient customs,
Listen to powers passed down from your fathers,
And you  learn it is bribe-before-service
In their own power show.

The show has power:
“ I will show you who I am,
Don’t you know me ? “
The show is on all day,
Power to the show!

Alarm don Blow

Eferi plan don scatter
Katakata jam yamayama
Moto dey boil like
Firewood soup
Molue people dey baff for sweat.
Alarm don blow
For Lagos go slow.

I-go-drive-mysef kiss
De yansh of Eko taxi
Grammar jus fly comot
From eferi corner:
“Gaddem! Nonsense!
I drive in London
Ten years no problem.”
Dem park for road
Dey block eferibodi:
My people, alarm don blow
For Lagos go slow.

Gofment oga wan go airport
Na so alarm come blow
Becos all road don close.
I sweat reach bucket for Eko molue
Still oga nefer pass
But sha, after two hour
Siren come blow
And oga fain im way.
Alreadi, alarm don blow
For Lagos go slow.

Hit-and-run driver jam
Person for Eko bridge
Eferibodi dey hala
Some dey do kiss of life
Oders bicom emergency dokita:
Ojuelegba na casualty ward
Eko bridge don bicom moto park.
Alarm don blow
Inside Lagos go slow.

Morning go slow
For Carter bridge
Night go slow
For Mile two
Ikorodu road
Na all weather.
You comot from work:
Go slow
You dey go work:
Go slow
You dey fain job:
Go slow
You dey fain business:
Go slow.

Go slow, go slow
You don go nuclear
Your alarm wan
Blow my ear comot.
Go slow, go slow
Your wahala tire me.

Independence Day

Celebrations rule the air,
This is a period for rejoicing,
Celebrations rent the air,
We have hoisted our flag
Throughout the tortuous road.

Celebrate !
Let us celebrate our flag freedom,
Celebrate !
Let us celebrate our economic bondage.
Beat those drums !
Murder the drums !
Dance the independence dance,
Yes, feast and dance:
No cause for alarm in
This land of the absurd
Where a few green patches thrive
In the scorching desert.
Every year we hire an orchestra
And a choir,
So as to celebrate our hunger:
We have become wealthy beggars,
We have become farmers who starve
In the midst of bountiful harvests,
We have become cowardly generals !
How we are running round in a daze,
Searching for all-cure potions
From foreign witchdoctors:

Our pretty maiden has gone barren,
Our rich soil is consuming all crops,
And hoe was buried with many dreams,
Seasons ago.
But, can the sick cure the sick?
Can the river dam back the ocean?

But must dreams midwife nightmares?
We seek for truth buried in freedom,
We seek to uproot chains masquerading as liberty,
Will happy hopes live again?

The war front calls,
The noise of battle is loud,
And weak hearts must stay by the fireside:
Surgical knives must not miss
The cancerous heart,
The axe must not miss the roots
Of the dying tree.

So let drums beat,
Let flutes play,
Let trumpets blast,
Let cocks crow,
This time,
To herald the new dawn.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Africa get Belle

For our place na good thin

Wen somebody get belle

But dis Africa belle

But dis Africa belle

Don overmature

Na real bad belle

Na wen e go deliver?

Soso famine and kwarshiokor borku

And beggar, beggar contri eferiwhere.

Long, long time after slavery

And efensef colonial master don comot

Still Africa no wan deliver.

Bifor, bifor wen Oyinbo come

Na some Africa man sell dem broda

Again, again dem dey hala for IMF and
Im cousin World Bank.

Dis time dem go blow grammar for UN and OAU

Becos dem be independent contri abi?

But my sista, na all of us sabi say

Na only flag we get:

Our maiguard dey combine with armu robber!

Africa get belle

E don overdue

Belle no wan comot

Na so Africa dey roll for ground

Becos de pain don pass mental:

Africa get belle

Na wen e go deliver?