Tuesday Poem by Dami Ajayi

/in

The Delusional Night Guard

(With Ebenezer Obey)


Good luck to the delusional night guard aiming to become God’s security detail.
Angst & envy bubbles in search of tranquility, while claims of superiority flutter, demanding silence. 


Slanderers lurk, the corners of their mouths leaking toxins, but Olodumare is still cleanser. 


Detractors, Detractors, I have fled. 
Detractors, Detractors, I have fled


The technique of flying shall not depart the bird.The technique of swimming can not depart the fish.The technique of chewing the jungle will not depart the rat.


Detractors, Detractors, I have fled
A tree, aiming for my end, cracks & falls; it becomes a barricade, I slip underneath its decidous edge,& render my sweet escape.


Detractors, Detractors, I have fled. 

Tuesday Poem by Oloyede Michael

/in

I sat on the width of a tree,
read pages of poetic letters
in a quest for an acquisition spree.


On several burning notes, we agree.
Poetry is a pear tree, pick rhymes for free.
Our clothed nakedness we lucidly see:
The nakedness of nothingness,
The nothingness of existence,
our persisting existence.


I chewed one-tenth of sane tenses
interpreting the essence of joyless sentences,
I bit the fruit of ethereal depth on the poet-tree.
I marked oxymoron on my speech tree,
antithesis, I chew for a gift.
My pulse less understood by morons,
the voice of sarcasm became clarion.


The axe of pain is oxy,
The hook of forgiveness is moron.
I sat on the trunk of pun,
It lubes my buttocks with fun.


I swung and caught the branch of paradox,
on the poet-tree; wisdom and I had tea,
knowledge obliged me,
understanding took me fishing.
I sketched the mural of these three literary life guards on a baobab tree,
I scribbled the ode of these three on a poet tree.

Tuesday Poem by ‘Biyi Olusolape

/in

Not this time, I shan’t say goodbye
For E.I

These are the very shivers that spread me thin –
the very shivers that spread within
and through
me
even to the tingling hollowness in my bones –
between the first hello
and the lost l-o-l that consecrates your departure,
for these are all the ways in which your leaving
for a purpose
may distort living
for a purpose,
which purpose is you (not a question
nor a threat
but all of a full promise).

Tuesday Poem by Dzekashu MacViban

/in

Second Coming

There is a coup d‘état
New persons impose themselves to-night
And take into their hands— the Power—
To wreck the ship-of-state,
Give a dog a bad name, then hang it.
Thy throne‘s thy grave…
A young snake kills its mother
Yet, it ain‘t different
Déjà vu, I‘d say
As a dishonest saint replaces another
Is this our fate until the Second Coming?

______
This poem was taken from Scions of Malcontent (Miraclaire, 2011)