When you return

Published July 22, 2012 by Words

Sojourner to far-flung climes;

When you return,

Will you remember the evening songs

Chorused by chirping under the baobab tree?

Will you still remember the fame of the great hunter

Whose courage put the forest sprite to flight?

Earning him the most beautiful virgin in the land

When you return,

Will you remember the fable of the wraith

That forced our forefathers away from the farm at dusk?

Will you still dip your hands in “Aro” to make “Adire” for our dear mother?

Will you?

The market still a beehive of activities

Every market day is as rustic as you left it,

Our women the same, untainted by the new ways

Our men have not also faired any better,

Still suspicious of the innovations of the town people

Our children are not ashamed of showing off their beauty for the world to see,

The harrowing cries of our virgins still pierce the night,

As they fall under the mutilators knives

Will you still remember how to savor “Iyan

Pounded with the sweats of the maidens and

Molded with “Egusi” from earthenware?

When you return,

Will you not now be repulsed with “Ila”  

That soup which you handled with such mastery with “Amala

The leaves from the forest still keep us strong and virile:

The white-mans medicines have not offered any hope to our ailments

When you return,

Teach us not new things about our Land

O sojourner,

When you return from the white man’s Land

The Land of your slavery


Poem Written by Macaulay Oluseyi


–          Aro:-  A local dye

–         Adere:- A fabric made with “Aro” it is popular among Yoruba people of western Nigeria,

–         Iyan :- A paste for food made from Yam

–         Egusi :-A soup made from the melon seed

–         Ila :-A gelatinous soup made from Okra

–         Amala :-A paste for food made from Yam flower




Published July 6, 2012 by Words


Pen Brutish Rueben is dead, cold blooded, and dumb

We shall not mourn,

Our first born scribe now buried in their ruins, as many of his likes

Weep not comrades,

Will he speak for himself?

Not again,


The rejoinder master lies on the laps of Delilah’s whom he once denounced

He shook hands with the devil and died

Ruben was not killed with their barrels when he ought to have been dead

He gave himself up willingly

And threw reputation to the mire

The columns of contradicted life condemns conscience

Disparaged pages of Jewish fated hypocrisies

Public circulated ranting at the Rutam House for advantage

Only reprobates, dares to defend these, justifying them in rejoinders

The obvious, we lost him

A consenting silence, the booing of legislators, the shock of commoners

No rejoinders, none till the expiration of his mingle after four years,

If it comes,

It will be weak, supportive of the evil he once decries

We lost him.

A rare obituary for comrade’s compromise

In honour, dishonoured

Gather yourselves together to the head counts

One man is missing again, amongst scrawl’s giants   

His price was paid, fully paid

 His dignity mellowed for pomp


Trapped by ganger wigs to the tricks of the Pol

Silence demeaning an age long chevron,

Now bowed to the “Yes-man-ship” of intelligential

Is this the manner of a fall?

“Unelected” Ruben,

Scoop the motives when deeds are done

Now, in reiterates, a kiss of betrayal

For $, £, #

Bring us no more juice of their scandals, wrapped around your neck


“Oft got without merit, lost without deserving”
And like the morsel of Esau,
Or the heel of Achilles
He fell headlong to his secret desired lust,
The motivation of his wittiness, “gain”
“Use to be”, delectable most read columnar
The guardian of innocent brave Negro clone,
A tutor to unsoiled zealous journalist
Until his price was determined in the closet of crafters
And as Judas, sold his master and friends the masses

Besmirched Ruben,
From the table of our pride and denouncement,
From the honour of untainted degrees,
From the circle of few men loyal to conscience,
From the gathering of consistent morality,
We bid you farewell,
When the roll call is renewed after this ruin, “sell-outs” shall not be there
Farewell Ruben, enjoy the loots

Ode to our Negritude

Published July 6, 2012 by Words

Luminous light from far away France lit the path of self-knowledge Lending insight to the bruising of our natural coats by pale minds Precocious volcanic lyrics erupted from captives and bond brothersHarmless writs on hardened backs break now in pieces, a philosophyFor Africa reminiscing our untold indignities and countless opprobrium.



Eager, yet confined; in their labors dying in installments in heated hatred Edicts of antagonism borne in a spree of speechless mocking of taskmasters: Obtuse commanders scrutinizing with guns and riflesReady to waste fellow fragile fitted frame in fanatical frenzyAnd shattered carcasses shoveled as dirt into unready graves 



Odours of death in every dawning of their morning masked with VodkaOffensive Hide the cause of the increasing throes of sojournersTimorously invaded by nightmares and befuddled by stolen night winksAs fish out of water, gasping for unfriendly breaths of survival Necks twisted from constant back watching of invading vampires.



Pretentious humility to thaw their fierce feelings and daily kill intentionsPropitious hopes of liberty from enforced tyrants and steal masters of colonyWaiting, and waiting still for bigots’ new knowledge that same blood runs in allFor the rancorous raging of unspoken hate to cease in our world  But “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do”  



Ostracized yet conscripted to run intricate errands for their endsObnoxious demands vex the soul yet never a word of phobia in mannerism, Rock breakings, imposed horticultures and nameless chores of shame.Hoary, worn, frail, with empty stomachs or aspirin infested bones: Bond of scribbling sufferers melting the heated point of liberty



League learners of law carved on stones roadmaps and logLittering walls with profundity and reckoning reason for the flightWhile royal lords obscured in these brogue and deep jargonsSlept on in their drunken stupor of willing ills and accord Until the shame of tyranny was espoused through lenses and goggles 



Dogmatic canting as illusory bliss in covered faces once made boldDumb drums mutate into apathy from border to borders.Slaves are freed by truth and Masters take the place of ignoramuses By all wickedness in their nature and bestial hating of colorBurned in anger with damaged health of the bearer of the burden




Skeptics, though pained, mock at the pens of forerunners of freedom Stimulating tired feet of loving lovers of nature’s honored color into actionWho built others’ walls having none but etched civility on their mindsErected the schools from Ethiopia to Greece, Rome and Britain, Yet, our humble start flowed from France from the painless pen of a few.



Eccentrics from humble beginnings in a cavalcade stir up dormant brethren Egregious rabble-rousers oppressed with water canisters and rubber bullets Offspring of choristers of cramp cathedral on Wall Street as sturdy icons Yesterday Misgivings morphed into glittering stars of Hollywood skylineThough some still harbour ampoules for needles of hatred and bigotry



Duress herald diplomatic dialogues in treaties for gains from motherlandDiamonds and precious stones, gold excavated heaped on dromedariesHauled to Zurich as treasures; loot of brigandage awaiting fiery judgmentEvangelized uncommon wealth made common by the amity of deceptionEnriching “Her Majesty’s” coffers and pamper Princes and Presidents



Anesthetizing our wounds with priestly bells of Sabbath’s confessionsAppalling injustices and perfidy executed on African bordersOccidental museums shamelessly exhibit black crafts Were they bought, borrowed, or stolen? You that read know better than I do. Trust me.



Roars of deprivation thunder again as boundaries are zippedRidicules of chauvinism as Imposed Masters require a VisaEnglish from their colonies and France from their statesWhere lie the privileges of subjugation? Hypocrites. Keep the answers; we shall keep paying your due$ for entry.



Surprised? Even they, beggarly request hundred-dollar bills from voyagersSquandered fees of “Refused” tourists while foolishly allowing feigning Terrorists“We are rich”. How? With the widow’s mite of black brothers as Vi$a fees.One million applicants yet one unworthy choice at random in diplomatic continuanceThey are pitifully poor without this fraud. Trust me.



Evince my truth false, bring reasons to disprove my lies, I ‘d love to be stupidEmployed leading lords of our jungles are their pets, we know well.Our criminals are well tutored to vandalize at their instructionsAnd are hailed and fooled with flattery words and accoladesLording us in unfinished ruin by Mr. Presidents and Her Royal Majesty 




Negritude is new never dead as they think it did in France, “I am Black and Proud”  Never was He killed like they do todayLike Damilola Taylor, or the innocent unknown secret murders of scores of settlersWe are fools and remain so as long as serenity overcomes arroganceOur weapon is peace, Love is key. Trust me.



Groveling in crust under sponsored supervision of state to launder Grit of groaning heaved on homeland searching out the goods amid deprivationsCastles of gold and jeweled stones but smidgens as reward for abhorred skin brothersLacuna of hate on these minds cloaked in invisible supercilious attiresThe scorn appearing in Britain, America, Russia, France, Japan and Germany  



Hearty acrimony, rancorous disdain for inveterate shades of difference Humiliating ours, like Jews to the Gentiles, though from same loin twisted. “Are we better than they? ” Are they not all slaves to one master unregenerate? Cease; bury arrogance, same sky, rain, cloud and sure same judgment soon Welcome brother again, love is the key. Trust me.



Organize the fractured system; the hue does not determine the soul of ManObjects are covered with particles; the value is invisible, same with all menSeek meaning. Dig deeper into reasons, visible jewels rot and mutate.Who is Man? The colour or the stature? No. The Soul. What canst thou know? 



Recognize with reverence His wisdom. Stop the snow if you canRelent from odium; abate the rain, in your wisdom.Restore the dignity with humility, Repair the broken bridge Regard not my hurting letter; still very humble but not a slave.



                                                                                                 Dedicated to Late Leopold Sédar Sénghor

By Macaulay Oluseyi

Indices of a loon

Published July 6, 2012 by Words

Gutless muffled monarch wooed millions to the poll,

Our feeble lord enforced on us by pathetic speech of poverty (I once had no shoes)

On congruent grounds of pain we forced him, though we hated his coterie. 

Disappointed, now we wail waiting surrogate to lead the mass to unending journey of relief

Lacklustre, jejune as pervading rot lingers

Unvaried captain rocks our boat, gagged around by plunderers.

Circles of death, twinge, pauperdom and miseries mocks the reign of naivety.

Kleptocrat adorn himself in regalia loved the honour lacks duty


Embezzlers of collective trust bequeathed in hope,

Bandits as conniving ministers besmirched our obtuse scamp

Egregious, craven, shrieked at the sound of war (I am not a lion)

Laggard lumper loon left fanatical murderers at our doorsteps (a burden we must live with)

Encumbrances from his delinquent clan divide the love for mother land


Damp squib’s duchess’s indecent tongue never feels a vestige of restraint

Academic “double misnomer” with licence to libel,

Merriment and intrigue feigned as obligations,

Edgy cumbrance though cluelessness forms amity. 


 Punk pretending and purloining to private vaults

Adventurous nerve for futile globetrot 

Twitchy at the affairs of state, though Unemployed by sensible Poll

Intoxicated by serendipity, shaming all with activity

Euphemistic drama Usurps Scrappy literacy on cultured observers

Crude verbiages to amuse myriad of eggheads (my Fellow widows)

Encomium of Yesterday’s approval turned sour as our Tsar’s inept mode prevails


Jokers jostled in enthusiasm to rule, (politicking for 2015)

Onslaught from “Boko-Haram” drove sleep from wearied countrymen

 Numbed as hoi polloi echoed NO to mistimed removal,

Alas, the fraud, rapscallion looted the poor to a blindfold

Tyranic manifestation cloaked in reticence busted on the streets with the troop  

Higgledy-piggledy bugled the travesty of Democracy

Amidst the rubble of a crumbling amalgam

Nigerian Lords watched the drama secured amongst 10.000 armed men inactive as we die    



But We Are Just Politicians

Published July 6, 2012 by Words

We have knives to cut,
But we cut the throat of our friends and brothers,
And chisels with which
We stab the children of our mothers.
The guns are not to hunt lions or tigers,
but carried secretly into neighbors residence
On missions to their hurt for our gain
And rip them of God given life
Dispatched to untimely graves.
Our creed is “get it now remove threats”
Though the “Threats” threatened not.
We are not murderers,
We are just Politicians.
A mere letter in our hands can be used as a weapon,
Like the mean man from Minna
And gas to scare crowd-deserving answers
As the uniformed culprits of the state
We are not murderers,
We are just Politicians.
We hate poisons as meals,
But can set the trap with apples
Like the undiscerning notorious tyrant of our clique
And tea, served harmlessly to settle scores
Like the stammering Mogul and our undisciplined discipliner
We are not murderers,
We are just Politicians.
Our weapons are subtle and any friend can fall victim
None can assuage the schemes of our machinations
When a target is determined, the clock ticks to doomsday
The uproar is temporal,
It ceases in a week or two, but we allow them
Helping to beat their tearful drums
We are not murderers,
We are just Politicians.
Even the scribes can be bought
Well-carried bags of blood rewards
And their bosses like puppets when they are paid
Reducing consciences to Yes-man ship of the most Cambridge
We are not murderers,
We are just Politicians.
Oh, the men in “Black”
In dark goggles day and night?
They are all agents of our intrigues
Removed from debased backgrounds
Where money means much,
Anything for the money,
At our service they speed in unison.
We are not murderers,
We are just Politicians.
Our signets are many,
We are just a clique, namely
The Powers that be,
The Federal Might
The State House
Orders from ‘above’
The caucus and many other fear inflicting titles
On right thinking minds
We are not murderers,
We are just Politicians.
Our children are “Abroad”
With looted funds of the State.
Fat accounts in Zurich,
Houses not a few.
And what if we are found?
We owe no explanations,
We are not murderers,
We are just Politicians.
We never get to the root of any matter
Because the root cause lies in our bosoms
When they kill themselves over oil
Our men will douse the tension.
If they fight on Lagos streets
The gas will scare them to their huts
And religious wars are our tools for change
We set the ball rolling for gain,
We are not murderers,
We are just Politicians.
We use Knives,
We use Chisels,
We use Guns or you say Rifles,
We use Poison,
We use men and their pens too,
We are uniformed as our men in “Black”
We must Rule to Ruin.
We are not murderers,
We are just Politicians.





Yet, More Than A Brother By Chukwuemeka G Akpe

Published July 1, 2012 by Words

Moods oscillate in cadences of peaks and valleys

Music to fractious emotions on greasy dance floors

Mistimed cues of flares smouldering relationships


Angst of redundancy seethes from within as lava

Anger is camouflaged with the cloak of reticence

Ardour suffocated with the noose of indifference


Cataracts of devotion flows from the heart’s crevices

Compassion brightens the visage with deep dimples

Caressing arduous tasks to lighten others’ burdens


Attrition grates the soul baring the mind’s low estate

Audacious mien casts the mould of a mean persona

Attracting pestering quizzes on casual promenades


Undeterred optimism as binoculars peers into a future

Unresting feet daily eat up distance seeking solitude

Uncharted landscapes nuded and printed with flourish


Life’s harsh lessons came bound in teeming volumes

Lecturers of sundry genre pierce the ears from lecterns

Long lonely nights pass away brooding tough theories


Attention always spurned with multitude of entreaties

Attires are the shields of invincibility from prying eyes

Amazement and wonder to acquaintances and friends


Years of toiling under hard-nosed instructors for a scroll

Yielded bitter results hunting for game to stuff the table

Yo-yo appointments as boulders crushing elevated hopes


Obstinate phase of season invited foes within and without

Ostracism dug wells of acrimony pulled by cord of hatred

Outcast engraved on the forehead with pens of odious ink


Longings stir for kindred spirits to occupy the soul’s void

Letters are dispatched far and wide on wings of honesty

Letting in respondents through the window of brotherhood


Unbridled tongue lashes out blindly to sting innocent flesh

Untainted heart in atonement pours out songs of lamentation

Unseen are the weals of self-flagellation trenched in the heart


Sequestered recompense curdled milk of unity with affront

Stories unfurl the firmly swathed bard with mystical verses

Satires the canvasses littered with brush strokes of humour


Enigma garbs the character in fineries not of gold but awe

Etchings of astonishment imprinted boldly on dull apparel

Enamoured of any able to break into the mind’s penitentiary


Yearnings of affection resonate from the depth of the soul

Yearlings and all invited to a banquet of friendship and love

Yesterday’s delinquencies wiped with the duster of repentance


Insatiable quest for erudition compels him to drink in cupfuls

Imbibing in long drags the wisdom poured out on parchments

Infused parched organs energized to purge constipated passions



Apparitions of buried memories exhumed with rash eulogies

Arouse dried up tears that ever fail to cleanse the robe of guilt

Arraigning again before the partial jury of tormenting thoughts


Kaleidoscopic filial relationships hypnotize the mind to dumbness

Kamikaze images on ethereal screen longingly beckoning for a role

Kedging the ship of life’s voyage with sorrowful tugs to damnation


Intentions misjudged rivet spiteful labels reflected by wicked eyes

Impaling arrows of hate perforate the spirit to seep out its essence

Invitation to invasion by dark fiends to fetter the mind’s fragile walls


Neglected on shore as brothers and sisters sail out with patron’s hearse

Neighbours cut out their flesh of revenge measuring with unjust scales

Neutral judges acquiesce with stolid silence as the gavel of authority


Black skin refuses to be cajoled by those richly perfumed emollients

Bronzing came by nature’s quirk and glistening the sweat of its kiln

Brawn cultivated in the gymnasium of hard labour threads the body


Anodynes are moments of laughter with friends that rob sorrow of joy

Allayed fears sucked into the chasm of oblivion by a vortex of pleasure

Annoyance a rare display on a platform erected on the base of candour


Mistakes of the past hurled as fiery pebbles of insult across continents

Mark with contorting bruises turning the face into an offensive mask

Maturity date for restoration of loaned out bond suspended on a caveat


Intermittent pulses race to recesses of cranial bank to withdraw memories

Intractable dramas staged to the roars of disgust banished with entreaties

Internalized are kernels of the fruit of life eaten hurriedly in ignorance


Dedicated to Macaulay Oluseyi Akinbami, a brother who never ceases to encourage me to dig deeper into myself and bring out gold.