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Nairaland Forum / Entertainment / Literature / Poems For Review / Graffiti II - Nana (637 Views)
Hope Has A Son (II) / Doomed(ii) (2) (3) (4)
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Graffiti II - Nana by filiks(m): 12:40am On May 24, 2013 |
All prior dances line up Behind the last dance. Even pacifists must cry For war against something At least against mosquitoes. Uneasy lay the head that wears the crown Two analgesic tabs later he was up again. Easy Let the left nipple see What the right nipple sees For that is justice. When the minister handed the rubber, The teeth of his soles gave way And he fell flat on his back - backsliding. She calls often to warn That he call her no more. We are two tear drops away From ah-Noah Tsunami. She has cried enough Let us let her let him love her. Ah! The manifesto was a vibrant pass But nobody to give the nodding shot. The rapist ruins a family To make a new one. There’s a stranger at the door Armed with an arsenal Yet begs to enter Put simply, the house is too crowded. Give generously to the burglar He needs a handgun. Her mother’s daughter, please open up For the old general You’ll be a rich widow. Him no know book? Cheque book nko? He who pays the piper Bemoans stolen pipeline produce. So they figure, why pay the piper When you can simply vandalize the pipes? Grin Wide, Grin Grin Wild Grin. Put your grammar in your ‘pidgin’-hole You will speak it at the next road block. Poltergeist up north! The truth will literally BLOW your mind! I’m not talking what has been – Laden I’m talking what is B – Haram Let’s play fetch Go up hill for a cert Come back in bits We’ll cry to the bank with six-digit cheques. Let singers sing Let bards tell tales Let musicians muse Let poets pen The money remains in their Caesar’s circle. Africa’s armpit It’s a pit under the arm na Shouldn’t it stink for want Of wash? Money Messes with the aperture. Rack focus from money To man And the sin gains interest. The stone the builders rejected Is in the white house. If secret thoughts popped up Uncontrollably On foreheads Then we would enjoy watching the news. Poetry is not my thing Politics is not yours But I puff with poems And you “pass” at the polls. I guess we’re both amazing with words Or they’re high to let us Puff puff…pass. Moments add up To memories. (Sometime in 2011. Enugu.) |
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Game Well Played / Yeye O! / To My Val
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