I still remember my poor neighborhood
How I used to sit n wait for crumbs
Perhaps I could quench fire of hunger
Emanating from my stomach n brain.

2hours had passed
Yet no one recognized my presence
3hours had passed
and each step as though coming to me
4hours had passed
and my mouth still opened
Waiting to answer a call that I never heard.

Now my miserable self is walking away
To bury itself on mama’s foam
Praying to God alone
To sustain this troubled soul

I’ll never forget my cruel neighbor
That met my problem with spoilt beans
This threatened to seize my breath
I still remember the number of beans
In her red round plate.

I still remember the night
I lay with a mad man behind me
I have not forgotten the rain that woke me up that night
Behind the corridor of our pit latrine
I still feel it cold sometimes.

If I’ve a pen
I’ll write about my life
I’ll tell of my encounter with men n ghost
I’ll narrate my entire encounter with beasts’ n monsters
Even how I kept my dreams in the midst of nightmares.

I still remember those that mocked me
When I wore rags n hunt rats,
Even those that despise me
When I wine n dine in the same plate with pigs
I’ve not forgotten.

I still remember Juliet my first love
Fairest of all women I ever met
Tender n comely to behold,
I’ve not forgotten how I shivered
Like one exposed to zero degree weather
The first time I met her,
I had never forgotten how I was overcame
By sorrow n pain inflicted upon me by
Harsh condition n uncertainties
When I try to express my deep affection for her.

I still remember
The road to yam market
I still remember my spot in a white Toyota bus
I still recall the number of times
We frequent that path on daily basis
I’ve not forgotten
Those women who felt sorry
For a 12 years old bus conductor.

I still remember
The number of bus that overtook me
As I trekked to and fro high school
I still remember the number of pot holes
On that path.

I still remember the first time I cried
I cried when no one could understand my pain
I cried for love that I never had
I cried for my lost script
Instead of consolation all I received
Was a shout n a closed door
So I cried.

I still remember the day
A clergy told me that my dad is not fit to live
I still remember all the pain I nursed as a little boy
I’ve not forgotten all the odd moments of my life
But I had let them behind me.

All my life
I’ve tried to forgive everything
That ever hurt me
But somehow
I still remember.