Black Gold of the Rainforest

Our land is a virgin, a maiden
Adorned with black gold of the rainforest
Surrounded by the wild of the coast
Shared in peace by her children
From the Cross stretching to the West.

That was then…

The maiden weeps, the maiden bewails
Her fecund laps stretched in disregard
And her hymen broken, her hymen
That conceals the differing ovaries within.
Now her soil is stained with blood
And her innocence sucked.

Her ovaries struggle within
To control the slimy fecund oily soil,
I mean of what is left,
While the imperialist jabbing heightens.

She’s pregnant…

Our soil is oily, our oily soil
Soiled by the oil of bourgeois machinery
Imperiling our land with imperialist outflow,
Milking adversely our bio-diversity.

Washed away are the resting abodes
Of our fore-gone sires through
The bird-foot region to the Atlantic,
Leaving their manhood bare-buttock.

And now we struggle within
Increasing her pains, spilling blood
And intensifying the imperialists imperiling
Of her innocence, our fecundity.

She writhes in pain…

Burnt within,
Suffering from the baton of abuse
From without,
Midwives are come to the rescue.

But will the confinement yield
And she be delivered of live births
That shall mock the imperialists
And restore her sanity, her resilience?
Or will her births be born still
Saying her gestation is not done?


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divinity is an art

Our divine quest mocks our being
And befogs our nature visible:
The creative instinct of a Creator.
Earth’s manifest vastness of His presence
Teaches that of being creative or divine
It is in the trappings of the former
We are held hostage in His likeness.
Trapped in the web of this likeness
The creative instinct bestows the divine;
Or does something else reveal the contrary
Other than these same trappings?

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Come home, my love
Away from those dog-eared notes.
Come, let me sing
The lyrics of your lips.
Supper beckons from the bedside.
The turbine is down,
The moon shall be our witness;
…the pumpkin sauce
…the white spread,
Come, let’s sing our being
And consummate our oneness.

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Out of our prison wall of satisfaction
In the dead of the day’s dark period
Slouch the goodies we lack:
A moment of this.

I adore it,
Admiring its lustrous sparkles
Gusting from the bluish bright cover,
The lapis lazuli of supernal glory.

The air speaks in silent hiss,
Every noise for a while asleep
Except the solemn converse of maker and made.
Returning, this vibrancy vibrates afar.

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Amidst the dark visage

This morning I awoke
To the voices of yesterday,
The disposition and the flair,
The striving and the settled.
They all sang one melody:
Amidst the dark visage
Of receding laughter
And pensive hunger
The world is a beauty
For the sake of our souls.


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The Bloom

The jasmine-scented path
With the deciduous cover
Recalls our first outing
When the hiss of your lips
Whistled in rhythm with the pine
And in the womb of the evening
Was born our virginal vow
To saunter in eternal tangle
And refresh our secrets
With these blossoms.

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Four Freedoms

We were hungry, in want of food;image
And you told us we’d freedom from want.
We were fearful if we would die;
And you told us we’d freedom from fear.
We were speechless, without complaint;
And you told us we’d freedom of speech.
We believed poverty was our lot;
And you told us we’d freedom of faith.

imageAnd when we’ve come to self-discovery
Believing in ourselves and started talking
Refusing to give up until hunger is cured
You dared claim to yourself one more freedom
One we certainly do not desire:
Freedom to turn a deaf ear.


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Sunbathing in Solitude

Hail enchantress, thy luminous posturing beckons
The launch of a thousand ships;
Hail Laura, Hath thou of Troy or Ilor’
I would play Theseus, though I be Odysseus.
My voice resonates from far away clime,
But I bring a trumpet in the behest,
Blowing beauty, showy and sprightly,
Nested and secluded by distance and isle
To counter the hold of Menelaus
And blur the trappings of Paris,
All of who saunter around in proximal touches;
I send these lines, with their didactic bits
Glittering; and resting in thy roost,
Thou may look far but,
Behold the rumblings of troubling voice
Sunbathing out in solitude for thee.
A reminder: the ripe words of Bacon.
Beauty is summer fruits, deciduous in time,
Though it satisfies the longings of virtues
When its inner reins hold sway its tide.
Would that I could hear or see thee,
Out here in the sun, at this beach
Calming the waves of rampaging voices
By thy visage cast upon my heart

Not: Written long ago, when the hand wouldn’t stop scribbling.

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The Super Sweet Blog Award

A smile is a sparkle that brings forth light into the soul. It is a reminder that life can be approached from the most happy thoughts we nurse each moment. As a writer, I set out to express my thought not as recipes, but as a fragmented encounter that captures in wordy imagery my sense of appreciation of what comes to my varied senses. Through this process, I’ve come to know and share cherished friendships with others across the world. I’ve been only three months in this experience of blogging, but my heart has been touched.

I want to thank Sue, not for nominating me for The Super Sweet Blog Award ( but for the liveliness and creativity her blog has breathed into my moments. She deserves this award more than anyone else.

So, in thanking Sue, I am also thanking all those who have liked my posts, followed my blog, commented on my posts and inspired me by their blogs. Your interest has challenged my creativity and rewarded me with humility.

Thank you

The rules for this award are as follows:

Thank the blogger(s) who gave you the award and link back to their blog.
Nominate other blogs for this award and let them know.
Post the award on your blog.
Answer the 5 questions

My nominees for the Super Sweet Blog Award are


So here we go, my answers to the 5 questions!

Cookies or Cake? Cake, not the icing actually, but chocolate cake or creamily buttered one. Pouring vanilla ice cream on it could inspire a dull brain.
Chocolate or Vanilla? Both have their appeal, but vanilla ice cream has won my heart several times.
Favorite sweet treat? Ice cream is my favourite especially under a hot weather.
When do you crave sweet things the most? Mainly late at night when I’m struggling to drag my brain to follow my fingers on the keyboard.
If you had a sweet nickname, what would it be? I’ve often thought of canonising Socrates were I to be the Pope. Socrates sticks, but I’ve been called SweetCakes.


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The Police is Indo-Nigerian

India and Nigeria are very much alike in several respects. There is sprawling poverty across the two countries vis-à-vis the wealth of a few. The two countries have a problem controlling their population meaningfully in the face of dilapidated social amenities. In the two countries, there is widespread mistrust in key government agencies, especially the police. Among the various similarities, I would like to focus on public policing. This is based on the recent incident in India involving the gang-raping of a young lady. The lady’s partner just spoke for the first time since the incident and recounted what happened (here). According to his report, he and his girlfriend were dumped on the street from the bus after the lady was mercilessly abused. However, upon arrival of the police, they delayed taking her to the hospital for about 30 minutes over disagreement about who had jurisdiction over the area the incident took place.

The above situation is exactly what happens in Nigeria. If it were Nigeria, the police men would come after a long while, and thereafter haggle over who had jurisdiction, which Divisional Police Station should document the incident. But that wouldn’t be the only thing they would argue over. They would tell whoever is around that there is no fuel in their car to take the victim to the hospital and therefore would require someone, possibly the victim, to provide some funding for such purposes. If there is no ready cash, they would insist on going on bike with whoever would volunteer to go to an ATM to get money. This would have followed lengthy exchanges about how the woman had invited the rape on herself by going out with a man or dressing in a particular fashion, as though one’s dressing is the molder of another person’s animal instinct.

According to the reports, the Police Authority in New Delhi immediately rebutted the young man’s accusation, claiming that they arrived the scene within three minutes of receiving the alert and left for the hospital twelve minutes later. This is typical of Nigeria’s Police Force. They are always quick to put the blame on the citizens, but hardly accepting responsibilities. In fact, if it were Nigeria, the Police would probably have announced how they had to airlift the victim due to terrible traffic congestion as a means of saving her life. Though also injured during the incident, the lady’s partner was not considered as being in need of medical care. But, he was considered fit for continued police investigation. So, rather than let him be taken to the hospital, the police kept him in their station for four days. A very typical Nigerian situation. In fact in Nigeria his family would have had to come and bail him out, except civil society groups cry out and the presidency intervene through the Inspector General of Police. If he were a girl in Nigeria, it is highly likely that she would have been kept as suspect in the police station and duly gang-raped while there.

Like in Nigeria, there was public apathy towards giving help to the victims after they were dumped. No one wanted to play the Good Samaritan because in the face of inability of Police Authority to make headway in a case, they are likely to drag innocent citizens into the web of lengthy legal cases. That is a commonplace experience in Nigeria where we have had experiences of illegal arrest and accidental discharges. If the Police don’t get the suspect, they are ready to lock up his aged parents, pregnant wife and even infant child. If they don’t get any of these, then the neighbours – far and near – are likely victims. In the face of such threats, people who would otherwise offer timely life-saving help are cowed and become apathetic in responding to situations of emergency. It takes more than a casual disposition or desire to help to provide adequate assistance during such critical moments.

I’ve experienced the corruption of the Indian Police at the Mumbai airport during the process of declaring foreign currency in my possession and I wasn’t surprised at all because I had a baggage of similar experiences by the Police in my own country. That was in 2009 and since then, I knew that India was no different from Nigeria. In fact, I have come to know that the police in both countries have dual nationality – Indo-Nigerian. Nigerians may be heading to India on medical tourism, but I have also realized that funding of some of the medical trips by public institutions have been characterized by corrupt practices involving Indian health consultancy firms and Nigerian agencies. No matter the level of technological development or economic growth, the people must remain central to every society. The recent rape incident in India juxtaposed against Nigeria’s widespread sex crimes is a reminder that we live in unsafe world and that women are being constantly abused and then blamed for the abuse in addition to inadequate justice system to protect those hurt.The culture of silence engendered by hostile male-dominated environment has made it even difficult for women who are abused to seek justice or even come out to talk about their experiences. Many of them choose to suffer the indignation with attendant trauma all life-long.

Just while the world vents its outrage against the sex crime that is common in India, the Child Protection Network (CPN) in Nigeria has released a Report that chronicled 95 child rape cases which have been recorded in five northern states of the country. Guess what? A police officer couldn’t miss being among those indicted. Unfortunately these cases involved mainly minors, some as young as 14 years. The incidence of women being gang-raped eats at the core of survival of a society and it is of such hurtful nature that were the women to push for castration of the male folk, they would have sympathizers. It is bestial to inflict such violence on others and also painful when this is perpetrated by young persons or those who have to been placed in positions of trust. We have a duty as individuals to watch and act, because those who perpetrate these sex crimes live in our midst. We must also support organizations, especially credible civil organizations that have taken over the fight to stop these abuses and seek justice for those affected. Beyond the actions of individuals and civil groups, this is the time for leaders to demonstrate their will and take actions that are necessary to give justice to those affected and promote the rights of the vulnerable, whether they are women, children or men. This is one way to guarantee the sanity and health of the society we live in.

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