LOVE LIKE MOONLIGHT

by

LOVE LIKE MOONLIGHT

 

Asake, let our tongues meet,

in the wet arena of our mouths,

let's share a kiss at this hour.

 

Let's lay side by side,

staring into our hearts,

through our eyes and touches,

talking about the love,

we have made and we shall make.

 

When you, Asake is fast asleep,

I shall wake,

and cover your nakedness with my body,

I shall pray over this meal,

this meal that shall never tire my flesh.

 

But why going to Ibadan to learn?

Is the village education not good?

Asake, this love hurts me,

your voice is no more in my head,

why have you left me for the city?

Return with your heart intact as promised,

University is now your lover.

 

ASABI

by

ASABI

Warm hands of Asabi,
coiled around my neck,
exactly like the Boa Constrictor
at the forbidden forest of Lapojuda,
only that Asabi's love is not like Eve's.

Asabi, a goddess from Oya's clan,
crystal flow at heart like river Ahoyaya,
I drink of your spring daily, Asabi,
yet, I thirst more for your gentle tide of purity.

Asabi- ahgan, modest woman from Olodan,
you are Alkebulan's model for womanhood,
in memory of your death to breast cancer,
never were you an Abiku nor Emere,
like the Occult priest, Wingunfa, proclaimed.

WE ARE AND WE HAVE BEEN HERE

by

WE ARE AND WE HAVE BEEN HERE•

Do you know of the first civilisation?
You should seek knowledge,
we've been here long ago,
when the eyes were at the knees.

All humans existed,
until the homeless spirits of heavens came,
and bore a race.
We are the original humans.

The faith of the cross and of the moon,
two most influential faiths of all,
both came from us.
Messiah came from us, and to us.
Look, the prophet too was one of us, not like they have painted him now.

We were first created,
we fell, we became lost to our creator,
he cried, for he knew we lost our glory.
Then came the wages of our fall,
torture, persecution, rape, slavery, colonialism, deaths, absurd laws, corruption, imperialism, oppression, greed,
money over health, immorality and lots.

In America and its corners,
that last race owes Africa 40acres,
somewhere in Europe,
you owe Africa billions of your wealth,
Oh! In Australia I remember,
you owe Africa an Aboriginal homeland,
In Asia, everywhere,
Africa is owed.
Even in Africa, the oppressor is owing big.

But know for sure,
Africa has children all over,
Now her Children demand a payback.
Not just in cash, but a return of Africa's stolen wealth and treasures in your land.

Rise Africa,
your children will return you home.
Not the whitened Egypt or xenophobic South; weeds amidst plants.
I mean your real children,
Africans with Africa in them will ship you home, mama, oh mother Africa!
I will speak of you Africa, oh Africa!


ENOCH A. OJOTISA 
LL.B Hons (Ife), BL, LLM (GCD)
CEO, AKEWI ARTS HOUSE

CALL TO NEGROPEANS

by

CALL TO NEGROPEANS*

When shall the ones in diaspora return ?
I ask when shall they set foot upon our soil again?

When shall the sun from Kumasi no longer scare our brothers 
from their sunset of police Brutality?

When shall Trevor Martins leave America 
for Lagos or Accra or Freetown?
 Don't wait till another young blood is spilled.

Africa is home,
come back home,
though not as deceitfully beautiful 
as the shining metal of death pleading self defence;
yet, it can be as beautiful as the words of Marcus Garvey, 
surely as real as the honourable blood sacrifice of Malcom X.

When are we going to claim the Nile as ours?
When shall the princes of the North accept who they are?
When shall the nation at the feet of Africa sow its torn xenophobic clothes?

Africa,
I sprout forth from thee,
yet you are a seed planted in me,
growing always with me,
I am from Africa,
for I'm first a Man labelled, Blackman.

By: ENOCH OJOTISA

SERIES IV of WURAOLA

by

SERIES IV OF WURAOLA

 

Tell her, Begiola is lonely,

now I’m at loss,

Ibadan born never shows fear,

but here I am, shivering,

once again I’m betrayed,

even with my SUV and status,

my heart is broken.

 

Who can bring me back Wuraola?

is there any Knight in Ibadan,

that can rescue my beloved?

How many sacrificial items,

will it take Egungun Alapansanpa,

to return Wuraola to my arms now?

 

Ah! Luke 6:24,

will riches be my consolation now?

Oh No! Ori, take your riches,

and find me Wuraola again.

she’s stolen from me, my love is stolen,

snatched away by the cold hands of death,

just when I waved at her across the road,

Gbegilodo, agent of death, hit her!

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