DEEP DOWN IN ARFICA, WHERE I HAIL FROM

 

Come to talk about my people’s way of life in Africa, way back 

Deep down in the remains of  Eden

Where everything remained as they were from creation

Where men lived not in  the fear of tomorrow.

The cock crows! It is dawn

Time to arise, time to roll the mat

 Many you will find on the narrow paths to the farms

But they wouldn't forget their manners..

Offering praises and seeking divination from the great ‘’Olodumare’’

‘’Olodumare, we are up again to the task of living

You have set us be with us and guide our ways

To fulfill our purpose of creation’’.

Chanting the words of the prayer, they set out,

Sucking in happily the freshness of the morning air,

A good sign of a good day ahead!

‘’Good morning neighbor’’ they great themselves

All happily walking down to their farms, both old and young.

Sooner, the village becomes deserted, almost like ghost town,

Only to be alive again later in the when the sun goes down.

Everyone takes to their works, yes they are hardworking.

The market place bursting alive with the daily bargaining.

Little children running about,

Playing and calling out to themselves.

It is such a delight I'd say!

All working activities go on until the evening

When all work is ceases,

Happily, all set to return home

Bringing along the bountiful  reward of the day,

Wives running home to prepare for their husbands

Sooner, the village burst alive  again

Smoke rising from each huts

Mortar and pestle rocking wildly everywhere,

Mouth-watering aroma engulfs the whole village

A perfect time to reflect on the long day

while chatting away about the day,

The night sets in and the moon comes out

It is time for the night treat;

Come along with me to the village square,

 And taste the sweetness of my culture...

 

Everybody gathers, at the square in a ring

The young girls move in, swinging and shaking their bodies,

To the sound of the drums

Young men looking and searching with great appetite for a possible catch

 The girls eying and as well showing off 

It is indeed a place to be

Children outside listening to stories from the old story teller.

It all seems the night should never end,

But the spirit that knows no old or young,

Comes around and releases its spell of sleep

Everybody has to obey the nature’s call to sleep,

And so, the day came to a temporary end.

But that was a very long time ago when the trees were still short 

but the trees have become all grown and tall

And they call the sweet simple day the old stories...

The Path of a Hero

…The path so Soggy and slippery but the words kept resounding in his head just like town criers gong…

His strength doubled like a soldier ready for battle.

In the middle of his nightmares, the wilderness of his trials

When the day became inseparable from the night

A time when turbulent storms howled like in agony

But he kept on, heavily and determined, mustering the very last of his strength.

Far ahead the mountains within the range of the cloud

But quite hidden from the view of the wanderer

But he kept on

Dragging his reluctant body but enduring spirit

Right across the field of despair and discomfort

Oh it blows…too cold to bear and almost too hot to embrace

But right on the yonder, there it stood

The summit yet to be conquered

He journeys through the thorns and the burns

Neglecting the dark clouds shutting out the blue sky

Gazing beyond the threatening gnashes of the discouragement

And the blinding flashes of false beauty

Oh he pushes ahead in the dark of the day, yea he pushes on

Oblivious of the supposedly dangers that were not real after all

Oh he walked on with nothing but the strength of hope

That frightened even the storm

For it could toss no more obstruction his way

Yes he forged ahead and when the morning came

He lifted his eyes up the mountains

The peak of his dreams

Wet, but he went all the way

Climbing with the wings of perseverance

Till he reached the summit of his destination

And up at last the flag of victory is lifted above the shadows of giving up..

"Who Shall Save Man from Himself"

I took a walk around the world 

and my eyes beheld a world stricken of pains and stinking of plagues

A home turned a dome of hell

abandoned of love and hope, but full of boils and pains

The old ones live forever

But the young die even before they turn grey

for they live not in the ways of the old

but have chosen to follow the follies of their ingenuity

and often they go too soon to make abode in the graves

So who shall save man from the consequences of his creation

The reward of his brilliant madness

for he wants to live in the sky like birds 

but the Earth is his home 

Oh how he denies the food the Earth gives

and see how he nourishes on the wastes he stole from nature

whereas the mother Earth has sufficient for him.

Who shall save man from himself

for dies slowly of his habits

but still he gloats in the pride of surpassing nature and he has failed to see the harm

yes, the harm he has done the Earth and even himself

He's fattened up on the oil that soothes the eyes but spells evil to his heart

he's enrich his guts with thorns of death

enabled by his negligence and blindness

Oh! he dances in madness to his end 

But who then shall save man , lest he destroys himself and make empty our dear Earth

Who then shall heal the world ?