Yeah let her play;
I know she's just a six year-old,
Who knows little or nothing about life,
Than to play ten-ten with her friends Taiwo and Kehinde,
And to play suwe with Bose, with Fijabi, with Ajike;
Let her play.
Since the last rains, she has not let me rest.
She has turned me to the all-knowing Deity,
Who knows when what will come
And where how or which will happen.
She has longed for rains,
Rains to bathe her, to soak her, to soothe her.
When she saw the clouds changing,
Her mother, Iya Jumoke, usually smiled,
Especially when Jumoke shouted with joy, "ojo ti fẹ rọ!"
Iya Jumokẹ usually brought out the few buckets in the house
To fetch water the rains would bring,
While Jumoke brought down her clothes,
Till it remained her slacked pant
Which she has been wearing since she clocked two.
The beads round her waist
Seem to be the nexus,
Holding firmly the pant to the waist.
Just when the rains came drizzling,
Her dad would shout out,
"J U M O K E!!!"
She would shrink.
He called out again, and she pretended she didn't hear,
Just as the rains were about to come in full force,
I stormed outside, directing my bare feet in the clay soil,
To where Jumoke was.
Jumoke would plead, and plead,
Tears welling up in her eyes.
She would plead and plead-
At this time the rains have started
Beating against her dark skin;
But she could not feel it.
The attention I, the father demanded also arrested her sense of feel.
Before she knew it, she was inside!
It would have been better,
If the rains crept in and drowned us all
Together with the house,
Than if Jumoke took the house and threw it in the ocean
Of her unending wailings, her tears.
Not even cane could stop her;
She even cried the more.
In this the mother simply chipped in slowly and almost silently,
"Let her play."
Her face read that.
Jumoke's face got angry.
After some ten minutes of Iya Jumoke begging,
And Jumoke herself wailing,
I agreed for her to go, showing my approval of it.
I thought about the words,
"Let her play."
I realised she always loved rains,
She loved to see how it felt to bathe well,
Under the 'shower' like she saw the boy in her Elementary Science textbook do.
She had no sponge,
But she improvised,
Using her bare hands
To wash every detail in her body,
Just as her class teacher taught her.
I was happy at least,
That the Community School was good,
That my money was not going down the drains.
Even though it was N500 per term, I wouldn't mind borrowing to pay.
"Let her play!"
I was sorry I didn't allow her
To say what she usually said
When it was about to rain-at least for our amusement.
When the dusts usually came before the showers, she usually told her friends,
"Kuro ni ibe! Ojo ti fe bere! Awon Oluwa wa n gbale!!! Won gba orun si ile!"
Suddenly I hear her rendering
"Rain, rain, go away;
Come again another day;..."
Then she chewed her tongue for the rest.
I didn't know when I sighed and laughed, and simply agreed
To "let her play, please!"
Thursday, 1 March 2012
Mr. Frankly Speaking
I've decided to change my name. I'm gonna change it to Mr. Frankly Speaking, and it's for a purpose. I need to convince her. I have to get her undivided attention. You're already asking how the hell I'm gonna do that by lying about my name. Anybody can bear crazy names like Tiger Woods. Well, check me out - I'm white, frankly speaking!
She's just a rare quintessential breed of Omnipotent-made intelligence that anestecizes a man and his guards. However, I must resurrect one of the guards - Courage. Yes, resurrect, because it's two years now and Courage and I have not recovered from the sight of her - isn't that death in a way?
Courage is more beautiful than this lady in question. Though younger than I am, she does a pretty good job of being a guard. She was given to me at adolescence while she was still a newly-born. I recall my petrifiction when she was given me at infancy. "What will I do with this? How will I guard her?" I asked. I was told later that she would guard me alongside my other guards.
With time I grew to know Courage's capabilities. Sometimes I wanted to take up tasks but they seemed quite impossible. Little Courage then would push me forward, with an infectous smile to encourage me and a frown to force me when I wouldn't yield. I became so fond of her that I believed in her: at some point, I overrated her like beleiving she could push me to move mountains.
At some point in my life I began to notice that other people had guards just like me! "I thought I was a special prince!" I even noticed that they also had a guard that was named Courage! Now these people's 'Courages' were more beautiful and more daring, such as to push them into taking the bull by the head, the horns being an overcome task. I began to accuse my Courage, calling her a lazy coward and blaming her for not leading me to these kind of daring tasks. She left her position at my back and came to take a good look at me. After staring at me with eyes peering down my soul, she ordered me to sit! WHAT? I had already sat before I chose to recover from her 'rudeness'.
She showed me those women, men like me who went ahead to engage in jaw-breaking tasks, who talked to beautiful ladies and disarmed them. Just as she was talking, I saw someone whiz past me. Before I could decipher who it was, I heard a loud splash in the lagoon. I looked over the bridge. I knew it was a human being, but why? She sat me down again, and pointed in the direction of the suicide site. "But you will not do that", she said. That suicider's Courage was malnourished, thus his finding a better life in death. "Jesus!" I exclaimed.
Courage didn't need any food for survival like I thought. Her energy came from tasks. Just give her the task and she would take care of it. I tried it. I held public offices like being the Social/Health Prefect. Senior Prefect. Class Representative. I spoke to large gatherings. I acted on stages. I smiled and waved at shouts of 'Oyinbo Pepper!' Other people asked how I did it. I proudly told them it was "Little Coura...ge..."
Little Courage was gone. A tall, dark-haired 'terribly pretty' molato replaced her presence. She appeared like she'd been working out. I was unsure where Little Courage was until she smiled and said in a sonorous voice, "I'v grown up!" I didn't believe. She then taught me what to tell my interviewers: "I learnt not only to believe in Courage, but to summon her." It was the working factor until...
...I went to the bank. I needed some cash. I remembered the last time I talked to Courage; I begged her to get ready to walk with me to my hostel from the bank, a 48 minutes walk because it appeared the Automated Teller Machine wasn't dispensing cash. I remember her changing my footwear to tennis shoes and standing up to salute, saying "Yes boss" before going to her place at my back. Then I turned, only to see this calm lady in a light blue shirt and dark skirt, looking peaceful. Looking simple. ............................................. The use of elipses is just the best way I can show how blank I was. I wore my sunshade so I'd have a proper look at her, through pretence of looking elsewhere. I couldn't. I turned to ask Courage what to do. Then my other guard, RightSenses reminded me to compose myself and mind my business. I turned back, and she was gone!
I used that opportunity to ask Courage what to do. Nothing came. I was confused. After some time, I heard Courage's unusually faint voice saying "run after her!" That was all.
With Courage fallen and RightSenses not helping matters, I chose to obey Courage. I went after her and found her leaving. I asked if she had withdrawn her money, to which she replied with a statement, as against the usual one-liners ladies give. "Encouraging!" I jubilated. But where is Courage to help me with the rest?
Till today Courage hasn't said a word of advice concerning it. I must tell this lady my mind. I'm gonna be frankly speaking, Courage or not!
Signed & Stamped,
Jayde Curlz, XCI.
She's just a rare quintessential breed of Omnipotent-made intelligence that anestecizes a man and his guards. However, I must resurrect one of the guards - Courage. Yes, resurrect, because it's two years now and Courage and I have not recovered from the sight of her - isn't that death in a way?
Courage is more beautiful than this lady in question. Though younger than I am, she does a pretty good job of being a guard. She was given to me at adolescence while she was still a newly-born. I recall my petrifiction when she was given me at infancy. "What will I do with this? How will I guard her?" I asked. I was told later that she would guard me alongside my other guards.
With time I grew to know Courage's capabilities. Sometimes I wanted to take up tasks but they seemed quite impossible. Little Courage then would push me forward, with an infectous smile to encourage me and a frown to force me when I wouldn't yield. I became so fond of her that I believed in her: at some point, I overrated her like beleiving she could push me to move mountains.
At some point in my life I began to notice that other people had guards just like me! "I thought I was a special prince!" I even noticed that they also had a guard that was named Courage! Now these people's 'Courages' were more beautiful and more daring, such as to push them into taking the bull by the head, the horns being an overcome task. I began to accuse my Courage, calling her a lazy coward and blaming her for not leading me to these kind of daring tasks. She left her position at my back and came to take a good look at me. After staring at me with eyes peering down my soul, she ordered me to sit! WHAT? I had already sat before I chose to recover from her 'rudeness'.
She showed me those women, men like me who went ahead to engage in jaw-breaking tasks, who talked to beautiful ladies and disarmed them. Just as she was talking, I saw someone whiz past me. Before I could decipher who it was, I heard a loud splash in the lagoon. I looked over the bridge. I knew it was a human being, but why? She sat me down again, and pointed in the direction of the suicide site. "But you will not do that", she said. That suicider's Courage was malnourished, thus his finding a better life in death. "Jesus!" I exclaimed.
Courage didn't need any food for survival like I thought. Her energy came from tasks. Just give her the task and she would take care of it. I tried it. I held public offices like being the Social/Health Prefect. Senior Prefect. Class Representative. I spoke to large gatherings. I acted on stages. I smiled and waved at shouts of 'Oyinbo Pepper!' Other people asked how I did it. I proudly told them it was "Little Coura...ge..."
Little Courage was gone. A tall, dark-haired 'terribly pretty' molato replaced her presence. She appeared like she'd been working out. I was unsure where Little Courage was until she smiled and said in a sonorous voice, "I'v grown up!" I didn't believe. She then taught me what to tell my interviewers: "I learnt not only to believe in Courage, but to summon her." It was the working factor until...
...I went to the bank. I needed some cash. I remembered the last time I talked to Courage; I begged her to get ready to walk with me to my hostel from the bank, a 48 minutes walk because it appeared the Automated Teller Machine wasn't dispensing cash. I remember her changing my footwear to tennis shoes and standing up to salute, saying "Yes boss" before going to her place at my back. Then I turned, only to see this calm lady in a light blue shirt and dark skirt, looking peaceful. Looking simple. ............................................. The use of elipses is just the best way I can show how blank I was. I wore my sunshade so I'd have a proper look at her, through pretence of looking elsewhere. I couldn't. I turned to ask Courage what to do. Then my other guard, RightSenses reminded me to compose myself and mind my business. I turned back, and she was gone!
I used that opportunity to ask Courage what to do. Nothing came. I was confused. After some time, I heard Courage's unusually faint voice saying "run after her!" That was all.
With Courage fallen and RightSenses not helping matters, I chose to obey Courage. I went after her and found her leaving. I asked if she had withdrawn her money, to which she replied with a statement, as against the usual one-liners ladies give. "Encouraging!" I jubilated. But where is Courage to help me with the rest?
Till today Courage hasn't said a word of advice concerning it. I must tell this lady my mind. I'm gonna be frankly speaking, Courage or not!
Signed & Stamped,
Jayde Curlz, XCI.
Thursday, 24 November 2011
Miss Shawler Audere
I have loved you since June 14, 2009. A very sunny morning. I don't know why, but it seems it keeps happening naturally.
Why is it that when I left church in a hurry, after sharing the grace, I met you instead of the money I ran to the ATM to withdraw? Imagine...twas just a matter of seconds before what I never expected became my need. I ran after her immediately.
She has this calmness. Very homely. Petite...ehn...not really petite...though anyone shorter than I am is classified petite...but she's got this body that any man would be happy to have. Not a loud talker. Simple. Handbag to her left shoulder. Clad in light blue shirt and a dark skirt. I ran after her like a gateman would run to his madam to ask for help. I got to her back and still waited. Maybe I should not talk to her...perhaps I should just walk slowly behind her till she gets somewhere before I chip in something...I was rambling and scribbling down thoughts in my head; I was no different from a terribly troubled schizophrenic at this very point...then I heard someone say, 'hi, hello! You wanted to withdraw right? Till I left there was no money to withdraw!' Then she turned to me and replied, not with a smile but with a light face, 'yeah, that's why I left. I'l come back tomorrow'. I was just wondering why she turned to me to say that, then it occured to me that that was a response type of statement, which means I must have said something to call for that. Twas only seconds before I realised that the bold side of Jayde had finally taken over! I talked to her!!!
I have tried to love another person but then it has met a brick wall. She looks very homely, more of someone who's a calm person but pleasant. She's a good christian, but I was even awed that she knew about adequate dress sense. After that day at the bank I asked for her residence. She told me. I went there empty at words but full of emotions the next week. I could only say 'I came to just say hi...hope you are good?' And till date, it's always what I ask about her.
But what kind of dangerous game am I playing with myself? I'm not sure how she feels about me yet, or if she'l feel anything close to the same about me, and I'm loving her unconditionally! I'm loving someone without being sure of reciprocation. Already, I'm giving part of my possession to make her more comfortable, yet it's not official that I be the one to do those. I'm not in a relationship with her yet and I call her like I'm keeping a close-eye on her. I try not to call all the time so she doesn't decipher something fishy, but then I'm wishing she knows and her feelings too are same. I go to see her like I'm a caring brother, yet I'm not related to her in any way. I talk to her and...BLOOD OF JESUS-I CAN'T LOOK AT HER EYES! She comes while I'm sitting down and my butt is up like a yo-yo coming from suspension from the air...just like a cleaner would do her madam. I try to see how I can write her name in other stylish ways, and I succeed: my creativity though is part of the reason. I try not to ask her anything close to the thought of a kind of mini-relationship 'cos I feel her list of requirements needs to be passed; like being responsible, having a goal, what I have in plans for her. All these, funny enough I have in place. Now the question is: what the hell is my problem then? BINGO! That's the challenge: I FREAKING DON'T KNOW!
Maybe her qualities are so rare, I'v not seen her match in a long while. Maybe it's her mode of talking that gives me joy. Maybe it's her physical features that makes me this crazy...but wait; she's got just three wow body assets that I like: her eyes, bust and physique. Nothing more. Other girls I'v liked are three times prettier than she is. Then what's my problem? Don't ask me what's so special about her eyes: there's one thing about the eyes of that person you truly love; it screams at you even when it mildly looks at you.
My fears.
I don't know how she sees me. I don't know how she feels about me. I don't know if it's ok to tell her how I feel. I don't know if I can tell her how I feel. I don't know if she would sit and listen. I don't know if she'l be negatively surprised at my outburst. I don't know if it will be positive either. I don't know. I don't know if our friendship will take a new turn down the drain when I tell her. I don't want things to go awry. What's for sure, only for sure, is that I'm gonna love her; care about her in a new turn, making her burdens also mine, and adding more to her smiles. The question now is, 'how do I do it?'
I seem not to hear God clearly on this one. My mirror mirror on the wall has been failing me of late...
Why is it that when I left church in a hurry, after sharing the grace, I met you instead of the money I ran to the ATM to withdraw? Imagine...twas just a matter of seconds before what I never expected became my need. I ran after her immediately.
She has this calmness. Very homely. Petite...ehn...not really petite...though anyone shorter than I am is classified petite...but she's got this body that any man would be happy to have. Not a loud talker. Simple. Handbag to her left shoulder. Clad in light blue shirt and a dark skirt. I ran after her like a gateman would run to his madam to ask for help. I got to her back and still waited. Maybe I should not talk to her...perhaps I should just walk slowly behind her till she gets somewhere before I chip in something...I was rambling and scribbling down thoughts in my head; I was no different from a terribly troubled schizophrenic at this very point...then I heard someone say, 'hi, hello! You wanted to withdraw right? Till I left there was no money to withdraw!' Then she turned to me and replied, not with a smile but with a light face, 'yeah, that's why I left. I'l come back tomorrow'. I was just wondering why she turned to me to say that, then it occured to me that that was a response type of statement, which means I must have said something to call for that. Twas only seconds before I realised that the bold side of Jayde had finally taken over! I talked to her!!!
I have tried to love another person but then it has met a brick wall. She looks very homely, more of someone who's a calm person but pleasant. She's a good christian, but I was even awed that she knew about adequate dress sense. After that day at the bank I asked for her residence. She told me. I went there empty at words but full of emotions the next week. I could only say 'I came to just say hi...hope you are good?' And till date, it's always what I ask about her.
But what kind of dangerous game am I playing with myself? I'm not sure how she feels about me yet, or if she'l feel anything close to the same about me, and I'm loving her unconditionally! I'm loving someone without being sure of reciprocation. Already, I'm giving part of my possession to make her more comfortable, yet it's not official that I be the one to do those. I'm not in a relationship with her yet and I call her like I'm keeping a close-eye on her. I try not to call all the time so she doesn't decipher something fishy, but then I'm wishing she knows and her feelings too are same. I go to see her like I'm a caring brother, yet I'm not related to her in any way. I talk to her and...BLOOD OF JESUS-I CAN'T LOOK AT HER EYES! She comes while I'm sitting down and my butt is up like a yo-yo coming from suspension from the air...just like a cleaner would do her madam. I try to see how I can write her name in other stylish ways, and I succeed: my creativity though is part of the reason. I try not to ask her anything close to the thought of a kind of mini-relationship 'cos I feel her list of requirements needs to be passed; like being responsible, having a goal, what I have in plans for her. All these, funny enough I have in place. Now the question is: what the hell is my problem then? BINGO! That's the challenge: I FREAKING DON'T KNOW!
Maybe her qualities are so rare, I'v not seen her match in a long while. Maybe it's her mode of talking that gives me joy. Maybe it's her physical features that makes me this crazy...but wait; she's got just three wow body assets that I like: her eyes, bust and physique. Nothing more. Other girls I'v liked are three times prettier than she is. Then what's my problem? Don't ask me what's so special about her eyes: there's one thing about the eyes of that person you truly love; it screams at you even when it mildly looks at you.
My fears.
I don't know how she sees me. I don't know how she feels about me. I don't know if it's ok to tell her how I feel. I don't know if I can tell her how I feel. I don't know if she would sit and listen. I don't know if she'l be negatively surprised at my outburst. I don't know if it will be positive either. I don't know. I don't know if our friendship will take a new turn down the drain when I tell her. I don't want things to go awry. What's for sure, only for sure, is that I'm gonna love her; care about her in a new turn, making her burdens also mine, and adding more to her smiles. The question now is, 'how do I do it?'
I seem not to hear God clearly on this one. My mirror mirror on the wall has been failing me of late...
Monday, 24 October 2011
By Byes We Tie Ties
One by one we kept adding up;
Tis just an awe how we multiplied;
One by one we kept joining,
To become a single solid multiple. One Alliance.
Dydx. Founder of the shelter that housed the Alliance
That proud boy who knew his onions
Who always put pencil on paper,
And made houses with his computer.
We say bye now, but never mind;
'Cos by byes we tie ties, of memories;
Of your blunt nature; your hatred turned love for scrambled eggs.
Rubutu. Cute, well-fed teddybear.
Underestimated at first, leaves you month agape in the end.
That professional in coupling and undulating sounds; always singing.
She made me dislike it, even when she could do it pretty.
We say bye now, but never mind;
'Cos by byes we tie ties, of memories;
Of how you always stuck with Dydx; how you giggled and said "I'm happy" when excited.
Whytman. American Nigerian made of gold.
That actor who often cracked dry jokes even at wrong times;
Always pressing his phone; left us wondering why the keypad never wore out.
He always hyped himself; people loved his spot-free body.
We say bye now, but never mind;
'Cos by byes we tie ties, of memories;
Of how you spent hours in the bathroom; how you danced funnily.
Salt. Pretty Igbo babe.
We loved her figur'8'ive expressions;
Always complaining of mosquitoes and heat even when we could do nothing,
She's sixty-one seconds faster than a snail when eating.
We say bye now, but never mind;
'Cos by byes we tie ties, of memories;
Of how men tailed you; your popular saying, 'no wahala'.
Sparky. Epitome of sanguinity.
Her mind has no door; it's as free as a gift of nature.
Always taking pictures of herself as she breathes; carefree.
Her favorite body assets are her lips and breasts.
We say bye now, but never mind;
'Cos by byes we tie ties, of memories;
Of how you liked bombom dancing; you always looked for Rubutu's trouble.
Abbey. Mother-hen of the Alliance.
She's made of wife material.
Always speaking Yoruba; we had to reply even though we were not as good.
She's in possession of excellent culinary services.
We say bye now, but never mind;
'Cos by byes we tie ties, of memories;
Of your popular saying, 'Must gbadun l'agidi; Must l'ogba l'agidi!'
Geoff. The lady with the very full hair.
Melancholic in nature, very neat and organised.
She often withdraws to her shell when moody and leaves everyone out
Her skin's as soft as bread from the oven two minutes old.
We say bye now, but never mind;
'Cos by byes we tie ties, of memories;
Of your peculiar soprano voice; how you talked fast when excited.
The Alliance, we say bye now, but never mind;
'Cos by byes we tie ties, of memories;
Of unison, of love; how we were an envy to all.
Tis just an awe how we multiplied;
One by one we kept joining,
To become a single solid multiple. One Alliance.
Dydx. Founder of the shelter that housed the Alliance
That proud boy who knew his onions
Who always put pencil on paper,
And made houses with his computer.
We say bye now, but never mind;
'Cos by byes we tie ties, of memories;
Of your blunt nature; your hatred turned love for scrambled eggs.
Rubutu. Cute, well-fed teddybear.
Underestimated at first, leaves you month agape in the end.
That professional in coupling and undulating sounds; always singing.
She made me dislike it, even when she could do it pretty.
We say bye now, but never mind;
'Cos by byes we tie ties, of memories;
Of how you always stuck with Dydx; how you giggled and said "I'm happy" when excited.
Whytman. American Nigerian made of gold.
That actor who often cracked dry jokes even at wrong times;
Always pressing his phone; left us wondering why the keypad never wore out.
He always hyped himself; people loved his spot-free body.
We say bye now, but never mind;
'Cos by byes we tie ties, of memories;
Of how you spent hours in the bathroom; how you danced funnily.
Salt. Pretty Igbo babe.
We loved her figur'8'ive expressions;
Always complaining of mosquitoes and heat even when we could do nothing,
She's sixty-one seconds faster than a snail when eating.
We say bye now, but never mind;
'Cos by byes we tie ties, of memories;
Of how men tailed you; your popular saying, 'no wahala'.
Sparky. Epitome of sanguinity.
Her mind has no door; it's as free as a gift of nature.
Always taking pictures of herself as she breathes; carefree.
Her favorite body assets are her lips and breasts.
We say bye now, but never mind;
'Cos by byes we tie ties, of memories;
Of how you liked bombom dancing; you always looked for Rubutu's trouble.
Abbey. Mother-hen of the Alliance.
She's made of wife material.
Always speaking Yoruba; we had to reply even though we were not as good.
She's in possession of excellent culinary services.
We say bye now, but never mind;
'Cos by byes we tie ties, of memories;
Of your popular saying, 'Must gbadun l'agidi; Must l'ogba l'agidi!'
Geoff. The lady with the very full hair.
Melancholic in nature, very neat and organised.
She often withdraws to her shell when moody and leaves everyone out
Her skin's as soft as bread from the oven two minutes old.
We say bye now, but never mind;
'Cos by byes we tie ties, of memories;
Of your peculiar soprano voice; how you talked fast when excited.
The Alliance, we say bye now, but never mind;
'Cos by byes we tie ties, of memories;
Of unison, of love; how we were an envy to all.
Saturday, 1 October 2011
Nigeria: The Suckling Independent
From troubles, Nigeria was born
From our present predicament, a greater Nigeria will emerge.
Before Nigeria was born, it took some time to realise
The true meaning of 'robbing Peter to pay Paul'.
Our replete lands were depleted to replenish theirs;
Sensing our naiive rulers, they juggled with their reasoning,
By making them think 'twas trade-by-barter going on,
When indeed 'pay for your own resources' was what was going on.
Our patriots bore hatred rods and space encroachments
To birth a blessed nation like Nigeria.
Just as discomfort from cold brings heat for warmth,
So did the discomfort of oyinbos bring Nigeria strength.
Delay being non denial,
Nigeria has reached the age of golden maturity
To nulify various false truths,
The lies we all will bring to denial.
Since we have to stoop to conquer,
Pride and misdemeanour we must give an Islamic burial,
In which we in no time commit it to six-feet,
'Cos time and tide waits for no man.
Because the people are the heart of a nation,
Nigerians must work on their credibility, sociability, and responsibility.
We need not a beautiful street with lights to prove a point,
'Cos with a spoiled people the country could be brought to naught.
The blemish in the face can be corrected in the heart,
But the blemish in the heart can't be corrected in the face.
If Nigerians can work on themselves inside-out,
Then a beautiful healthy nation we'll stare in the face.
The concept of a good Nigeria is like a fine nurturing tea
Which is sustained and harvested at maturity
Nigeria has paid enough to be mature and much more,
The fee 'f tea is simply fifty!
To be mature is golden
To be golden is to be fifty
If to be mature is to be fifty and to act it is a step higher,
Then paramount it is to act fifty-one!
From our present predicament, a greater Nigeria will emerge.
Before Nigeria was born, it took some time to realise
The true meaning of 'robbing Peter to pay Paul'.
Our replete lands were depleted to replenish theirs;
Sensing our naiive rulers, they juggled with their reasoning,
By making them think 'twas trade-by-barter going on,
When indeed 'pay for your own resources' was what was going on.
Our patriots bore hatred rods and space encroachments
To birth a blessed nation like Nigeria.
Just as discomfort from cold brings heat for warmth,
So did the discomfort of oyinbos bring Nigeria strength.
Delay being non denial,
Nigeria has reached the age of golden maturity
To nulify various false truths,
The lies we all will bring to denial.
Since we have to stoop to conquer,
Pride and misdemeanour we must give an Islamic burial,
In which we in no time commit it to six-feet,
'Cos time and tide waits for no man.
Because the people are the heart of a nation,
Nigerians must work on their credibility, sociability, and responsibility.
We need not a beautiful street with lights to prove a point,
'Cos with a spoiled people the country could be brought to naught.
The blemish in the face can be corrected in the heart,
But the blemish in the heart can't be corrected in the face.
If Nigerians can work on themselves inside-out,
Then a beautiful healthy nation we'll stare in the face.
The concept of a good Nigeria is like a fine nurturing tea
Which is sustained and harvested at maturity
Nigeria has paid enough to be mature and much more,
The fee 'f tea is simply fifty!
To be mature is golden
To be golden is to be fifty
If to be mature is to be fifty and to act it is a step higher,
Then paramount it is to act fifty-one!
Friday, 23 September 2011
XCI: The déjà-vu experience of a second look
XCI: The déjà-vu experience of a second look: Batting her eyelids a thousand times, she pressed her warm lips against his. Still in the act, she peered through his eyes again after three...
XCI: The déjà-vu experience of a second look
XCI: The déjà-vu experience of a second look: Batting her eyelids a thousand times, she pressed her warm lips against his. Still in the act, she peered through his eyes again after three...
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)