Oluseyi Macaulay A

Published July 6, 2012 by Words

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SR

Published July 6, 2012 by Words

SR

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

Ruben,

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

Reputation!

“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,
Farewell,
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
Farewell

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
Intelligence.
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.

The Bars of a Castle

Published April 21, 2012 by Words


A brother offended is harder to be won than a strong city: and their contentions are like the bars of a castle. Prov 18;19

 

Benighted embestir nurtured suckling onerous (mania) numb

Though,

He was his brother before he was seven,

When repugnance was alien to a growing child,

He strengthen himself against his childish folly

When filial bond compel amity on life-long acrimony,

He forced hatter’s blood from the milk of love seeking juvenile

Armed in innocence, he imbibed animus from his kindred’s blood

Pugnacious naiveté gradually tears down our haunt,

A better fighter, took his arm to the land of sane men,

Far away from third world Afric, he drank the brutality of Carl Marx,

Armed with Hitler’s hatred, he wears the patience of the Jewish boy

Drawing swords of rancour against his growing experience,

And as a child, he watched the brew of odium in silence

He cried, unknown, unknown, was my faults,

Though he slipped many a times, because his tutors watched for his halting,

With western skills and energies, the rage General, employed a troupe,

Idle kith and kin informants enlisted for the battle against his pristine foolishness

The bitter sense of severance, conquered his ambition,

Circled by antagonist, rumouring his childish errors, fanning the flames

Hello, hello, we have a chinwag,

The Harvard trained Erasmus, lowered to ravish unconfirmed tittle-tattle

Until they cunningly lured him, then he stretched out his odium,

Doing more harm to none but himself,  

He was his brother before he was seven,

His fierce anger, burns,

 Before he was seven, the stickler dazzled a sword at Mission Street,

Not to an enemy,

It was for his own preceptor, the “son of John”,

 He piqued him later to an early grave,

As he did “Nel” on his first arrival,

Some evil causing quietus

Rest in the spirit of an angry man

Though, fathered by their late clergy

His rebuke came too late,

Yet,

Visages of his first schoolmaster sends shiver down his spines

Virulence bottled up balefully,

Overdue resentment tiled voyages of unturned meanness

A commanding tone, a forced obedience

 Compelling children and adults to his perfectionist perfidy,

Our king reign in rage, the head-boy rules like a tyrant

His visage marred with venoms of evil memoirs

READING, come not near, I AM BETTER THAN YOU

His arrogance, was his fusty pedagogic ranks,

Wrongfully laid on the paths of his knight in shining,

His voyage to Europe, brought no succour,

To the perishing estate of his prime,

Nature’s attendance misused, dissimilar to Joseph’s voyages

Surreptitiously upturned and replaced his interest for his disinterest

Beckoning to a brawl from far country

He watched, watching still

He was his brother before he was seven,

Our instructor, who will manage his boyish choler?

An impatient teacher,

His venom, triumphed over his Cambridge and Harvard instructions on love

Yet, he boasted of Education

Though, this “Brutus is an honourable man”.

This honour, Knows not when to let go,

Though indeed he is an honourable man.

His friends could not tame him, he fought with the best and the rest took caution,

They blame it on him and urged him to pray

He prayed that he would learn, the jewels of love

He was his brother before he was seven

Yeah seven of innocence, seven without a guide, seven abandon to die

Seven, conquered by a troupe, seven when others hid their faults broadcasting his

And more, the wedding invitation, the superficial love of his folks to hide shame,

The pretence, Let me lough, the suspense, the gift, the trips, the insult

The guns, the threats, the plea, the suspicion

And more

He was until seven his brother, but their contentions are like the bars of a castle

Before he was seven, the stickler dazzled a sword at Mission Street, not to an enemy,

It was for his own preceptor, the son of John,

 He piqued him later to an early grave