Tuesday, October 27, 2015

The Assassination of X

Sometime in January, Boko Haram terrorists razed a town in
North East, Nigeria killing a 'woman in labor.' In the words of a
witness, “Half of the baby boy (was) out and she died like this.”
This poem is for the unnamed boy who I called 'X.'

And who hears when we call and comes running?
Who waits up for us and keeps the lamp burning
To show the path home when twilight is dawning?
Who reaches out when we face a chasm yawning?
And swoops us up just before we keel over falling
To our deaths in a fissure that is always gnawing?

The value of x is, for all practical purposes, unresolved;
He’ll for all time be a mystery because he died unnamed,
His spot is uninhabited for he never set foot on this sod.

The death of x is, beyond all reasonable doubt, a shame;
Not he or his Mama deserved that baptism in cold blood,
No one will ever know what x was cut out for or his gain.

The tale of x is, contrary to common belief, an ill weapon
To bludgeon the foe cause he died before he came thence,
We can turn pain to gain and make them pay for our loss.

The value of our x they must be made to feel, is priceless.


Thursday, October 22, 2015

Dragons of Home

This war on terror is a lot more about the victims-the dead, the displaced,
the missing-than the psychos wreaking havoc. We shouldn't lose sight of
the big picture and end up defeated.
On the side, what do you think they did to this poor girl to make her strap
explosives around her waist? This is our future going up in smoke.

You’re not here n’ how the clause spawns an electric
Arc that saturates this terrain in a wakeless gray rage
I can still hear your voices carried on the night wind,
Deep down the cove where I tuck my private self away,
Full and inextinguishable as it rides down the throes
Of cruel death and irreversible moldering of the bones;
You come to me in my quietude and unknot the knots
And as the puzzle sorts itself out a shape starts to form;
A friend’s face bending in and out of form taunting me
Begging not to be an option but a number one priority

You’re not here and I’m not there and the difference is
All the world but I won’t turn the page and close my eyes
To the heat, it’s the thorn in my flesh that only I must pick
If I must find peace. It’s all about you, it’s hi time I realize
This war aint about Shekau but you free to breathe, to be,
To dig into all of life’s peculiarities as experience hands it
Down the tube. You deserve the attention and compassion
Showered on you and the memories of you will still live on,
That is one fine article of this assurance I will never break
Until triumph busts open the gates bearing you in its wake.


Friday, October 16, 2015


For all those years I thought the Boko Haram insurgency was
an extended spell of the infamous Northern Nigeria riots

Incomplete, that’s the definition of me without a you
It’s taken me a while but the blinders are down it’s true.
I’ve seen my wrong I know I’ve been such a fool not to.
Unfeeling had me like and I said, ‘It’ll pass.’ That’s cruel.

Why do I visualize paradise but get paralyzed
By the sight of you otherwise immortalized?
I’ll rime till it’s sunrise n’ your night turns brite,
Time I switched sides, be a bona fide paradigm.

‘A few more days,’ I said, ‘and it’ll be gone with the wind.’
While you died in plain sight I let fear lax my heartstrings,
But time taught me not to wait for what tomorrow brings;
I am what brings tomorrow so I rise on a dayspring scream.

Why do I visualize paradise but get paralyzed
By the sight of you otherwise immortalized?
I’ll rime till it’s sunrise n’ your night turns brite,
Time I switched sides, be a bona fide paradigm.


Thursday, October 1, 2015

Noble Cause

Updated: October. 8th.2015

I’m gonna fill the follicles of forever flaunting this fine moment,
Paste your name to eternity like the stars on the firmament.
I’m gon’ wring out the grime while I grind on your ingenuity,
Strive for the stupendous and stack syllables to share your story.

You are one hell of a survivor I want to take you up on the exhale.
You are spectacular it is such fun to be sprung on a stunning you.
I have found home lives in you so I pledge to sustain your fame.
There aint nothing makes me prouder n’ to bleed my pen for you.

I want to hymn the appeal of your seeds; the lost and the bombed,
This moment bonded us in ways far beyond what we could picture,
That’s why I stand up for your tomorrow; it’s death before dishonor,
I need no other argument I have found my one solitary noble cause.