THE THING WITH INTERPRETERS (an essay by Oludipe Oyin Samuel)

Many things are allowed in the ‘most contemporary’ Nigerian literature, even psycho-imaginative meningioma; proclaim the very art of purposeful nationalist writing— countryside lyricals, activist poems from the contained ghetto-minds— I say the dynamics are vastly enmeshed in the spurring notes of sincere satire and a so self-indicting, predictable sadness, that which oft never redeems the… Continue reading THE THING WITH INTERPRETERS (an essay by Oludipe Oyin Samuel)

I WON MYSELF

Dust kissed the sole of my feet as I trod upon the ground valiantly a herculean task was set before me I peered into my heart and courage was visible I peeked at a mirror and I saw a fidgeting image whose image was it? I battled in a bottle filled with mixture of fear… Continue reading I WON MYSELF

NELSON MANDELA: I AM PREPARED TO DIE (by Lee Bob Black)

I am the First Accused the question of violence I planned sabotage I did not plan it in a spirit of recklessness nor because I have any love of violence a calm and sober assessment of the political situation years of tyranny, exploitation, and oppression of my people violence by the African people had become… Continue reading NELSON MANDELA: I AM PREPARED TO DIE (by Lee Bob Black)

NOT IN THE TAKLAMAKHAN

I. In hunt for self, My metatarsals budged, alert My spirit trudged on to the Taklamakhan; The land of ruins The city of death Beseeched By the preoccupation of the hunt for purpose; The hunt for my Achilles mitochondrion Locals whisper Albeit obstreperously That I am a blind peacock A deaf mosquito, even But the… Continue reading NOT IN THE TAKLAMAKHAN

WALLS OF UNENDING SCARS

I I have seen The four walls Coated with gory hand-prints Of criminals and suspects In-scripting awkwardness Pleading for a public presentation I stared at slogans Screaming…. “we die…innocent” “i was here” “and so what” “are you the president?” “dem go fire me” “na today” “…save us” My heart tears my eyes And the graffiti… Continue reading WALLS OF UNENDING SCARS

CRADLE OF MY POEMS

where day darkened and I forgot my memory of remembrance on the mountain-rill of sorrow your love lightens my path before the noisy clouds fall…… to the cabinet planet of poet’s prime angels of words and versification with hearty dictionary of your love

IBRAHIM

With a thin line of dry tears Making strictures upon his time Wrinkled face, old but strong All shall come from one Abba, the promised fulfilled To God, the handmaid Fair and kind, a precious gift Scattered like dotted stars Tickling the sleeping oceans From old to young who won Every step to righteousness One… Continue reading IBRAHIM