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

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?