Sunday, 29 April 2012

The Butcher of Damascus

The sanitation in the east is gaining momentum

One, two, three, four they fell like lumber

This is the year of the great floods for pilfers  

Feeding fat from the sweat of riggers

Now that we are done lets go to Damascus

It’s a year filled with rage and wrath

From Holms to home of rebels with smoke

On the table our limbs are severed like a frog

Blood flows in Syria more that the taps and baths

The butcher must be furious walahi

With a single bark the tanks rolled off base

Off to kill some decedents down town

Children, women and the injured must die

On the streets their chattels are scattered

The butcher is indeed on a rampage

Legions of meeting yet no resolve

The butcher is cruel they sing and sign

Russia and China placed orders for Syrian beef

Like it or not the butcher is doing well

After all the whole of Syria is his byre

                                   Omo-Ekun, Ilu-Nla

Saturday, 28 April 2012


Born in to a land of wooden ploughs

A country of mean men and plans

Where the streets are a dreadful to the fitly

Those queues of salt tells my story

Suddenly the thunder stuck again

The same rain that washed away the nomads

Here comes the prince of deceit and con

An era of promises to build huts in the air

For years we swarm in the swamp

Struggling with the quicksand of tyranny

Blood flowed like the Ogun River freely into the lagoon

The Oriri birds were caged and could not sing

Suddenly the Iroko fell

Without warning, without a word

There was relieve as if from a deadly boil

But not for too long

There came providence in person

Carrying the calabash of hope for free

We waited for the message in vain

For eight moons we worshiped his majesty

His’ is splendour and unparallel knowledge

Until the fire could not be rekindled anymore

Now we are as thick skinned as the hippopotamus

Not worried or upset, even in our total state of darkness

Now the fisherman runs the foundry

It takes more than dynamite to difuse our dilusions

Even with the desert now at our doors again,

Evolution hasn’t really work on our minds!

                                            Omo-Ekun- Ilu-Nla.

For Ken Saro-Wiwa

16 years the tears still flow freely

The blood of the brave still drips like crude

Hearts still heavy, and hands still akimbo

Men still weep and women still wailing

Streets still deserted and soldiers still watching

A life lived and groomed for the slaughter

The struggle still rages in the delta

Shell is still spilling and murdering the fishes

The politicians still playing chess with the blocks

The road to Ogoni still as treacherous as Syria

The Bakassi people are now Nigeria Refugees

Our schools till float from June-June

Now all we have are Militants

Even the politician have started to give amnesty

The NDDC have failed to develop anything

We have political appointments and then disappointments

Shell has agreed to pay compensations in Billions

The son of the soil is now the president

Dear Ken, nothing has changed since you left

Our comrades have gone back to the trades

Only now we are shipped in slavery on our own land

Rise up Ken, let’s match to Abuja

Your struggle, your life and your legacy still lives

For you today I drop my hat, 16 years and it still hurts!

                                                                         -Omo-Ekun, Ilu-Nla

The Drunkard’s Rants

Now that I have finished the race
I need my trophy of at once!
Oh! is that the trophy in the white coffin?
My god! why are so many of them
Some green others brown and others hmm…
Why am I so critical, I think the floor in growing?
What is funny?
See my friends I need my prize
I have practiced for this race all night
In one of the heats bolt even came last
If you don’t believe me ask Kaita!
Hey you! Yes you! why are you staring
If you want an autograph just say so!
You see my people, its challenging being popular
Everyone likes to hold you by the jugulars
Wow! This tomb feels good
But how come no one wants to join me
The smell is cool but it’s kind of sinister
Well I wonder what kind of bath gel is used
Wait a minute where is my driver?
I remember him thinking how frustrated he was
Even his wife made matters worse
Poor guy he hasn’t even seen her thighs in weeks
And tonight she won’t even wink at him
But how come I still have the keys
I am sure he has gone to drink
His favorite is the green bottle with the star!
Hmm, I think I like his style though
But for God’s sake he is still my driver
Gosh! I hate indiscipline
I will chill here until he returns without the keys
Then I will tell him…you are fired!

                                                 Omo-Ekun, Ilu-Nla

Old Carmel of Zimbabwe

This old beast of African Union
Still chewing hey from the ages
With long weak limbs and wrinkles
His pride still hard like pebbles
How far will he take these crackles?

The master fox still kills
Casting his brethren into cages
His hunt dogs bite without remorse
The sight of blood his spirit arouses
The fire of the huts he never quenches

This old cargo of Zimbabwe
After feeding fat from their ancient lactose
Suddenly feels the need to be a farmer
Even the plough knew ill fail
An animal farm the farmers fled like hell

Mikabe still feels he is loved
Praised by those who sniff from power
One day the drunk will be doped in filth
Now that a millions can’t buy a loaf
The world to him has gone so mad

Please Sir don’t think of it
That wazobia should leave the land
The white is nice but black is wise
Eyes closed your Excellency and say this prayer
Gbam! You dumb old Carme!
                                                    -Omo-Ekun, Ilu-Nla 

Tale of Two Fools

Suddenly they realized they have come of age
Now is the time to spill some rage
Two old timers fighting over folly
I am the bigger fool jaduda screamed!
No fool like the hill top fool maradona yelled!

Ever wondered why this world is full of them
Blood sucking herbivorous Generals
Their years filled with tears and graves
I wonder what will be written on their epitaphs
A nation handcuffed by fools

These two fools have done so much for the nation
One a successful farmer selling eggs in Billions
The other lives in a thousand acre Mansion
Building a virile nation I am convinced is a thankless job
To all national fools I raise my glass, may your days be long!

Now that they have decided to feed the journalists
Let’s wait and see who blinks first
Is it the fool that built the longest bridge?
Or the bigger fool that built the biggest dam?
One fool must surely get the price!

                                           Omo-Ekun, Ilu Nla.

Tribute to my Principal

13 years ago our parts crossed

Not on a date or a fly fishing trip

Along Offa road was where my desk was shipped

6 years I was sentenced to learn

There you stood ready and willing to have my butt whipped

‘Boda Bode is coming’ the code that makes me fly

To you sir I owe my punctuality

The reason I hate to be late for fights and flights

The pain of the four pronged horse whip still keeps me awake

In me you installed the program of responsibility

You will say the fish rots from the head

For you it’s a must that we make the best from life

In your office I was called to serve

My very first ‘job interview’ in life

With a smile you probed with a graze seeing potentials

It’s a little but I owe that much to you

I was a scout, a monitor and a prefect

Like you always say, I let SASS pass through me

Now that you have ‘fully retired’

the sting of the news of your departure across the seas,

Now that we sing the hymns and wipe our tears

with a heavy heart but grateful mien

I look at the past and it all makes a lot of sense

For every day you stood tall on JSS 3 Block

For every time a list is called for Mr. Babarinde to fix

Our future was on your mind from dusk to dawn

Oh! How I wish I could give a gun salute

Adieu dear principal, till we all meet at his feet.

                                                  Dedicated to Pa. O. Oyeyiola.