THE GREAT NELSON MANDELA

I know how Madiba felt

Every time the pains pelt

His mind and the walls melt

The love of his people tied around him like a belt

The emotional struggle in his mind to stay alive

Not to bury his country's freedom made him live

Through torture he persevered…inspired

To give death to the racism of life

Every time his name was sung in the streets

Dust ruptured and the people tortured their feet

Dancing for hope that cannot be split

Bring back Nelson Mandela to Soweto bridge

For 27 years he waited like a genie in a bottle

Holding unto life, gathering the throttle

To give freedom to 'Aristotle'

Who holds plans 'he' wishes to scuttle

 

Am glad every time I hear Nelson Mandela!!

It should give hope to people of 'Madalla'

Who has blood stains in hidden babariga

Freedom is perseverance…ask ''Babangida''

I can imagine the joy when Nelson Mandela was freed

The streets was filled with reeds

Even the gods haven't such honour, even in Greece!

Dried bones rattled in Zulu…look at his deeds!

Doves couldn’t fly about, they flew in thick clusters

They was no space to the Xhosa master

Sun of Shaka Zulu with a golden scepter

Freedom Mandela they all hailed!...all the street Rasta's

I know how it felt when he was free

Like a phoenix, he always dreamt, big dreams!

Of such a great day…in his dreams he had nightmares

He never knew he may have to sleep 27 years before the gleam!

JANGO OF TERROR

The shrill cry shred the night

And their fathers poured another round of palm wine

The women smiled the 'relieve'

The moon calmed the solar jaundice!

If  ''they'' now sit to steam wine

Their bent heads hung the swine

The women that sang then, now tie chains

To their tattered wrapper

He dares terror as he comes

A peaceful village now drinks cauldrons of war

For a bundle of wine and goodwill

How times have changed ''Jango of Otukpo''!

The same night shrills as he threads!

The wine hung on all their necks

If you debate…don’t! just donate

To Jango…or lose your neck

THE MEDIOCRITY OF EDUCATIONAL SERVITUDE

The tired faces of the mass servants

Begrudging with long crosses on empty stomachs

Face strained by confusion rather than anger

For the lord of the mass to serve the Eucharist

              

Who had starve them with even the “lords bread”

Shared abroad to “friends” with a grin

But to servants and strangers a frown at their procession

Not even the reverend, who are lords only by the mass servants

Welcome or a tear at their mass servant exit

They believe that “our” money will lure new converts

To share in others travails from uncultured seminarians

Who with unwashed hands share the Eucharist to…

The susceptible congregation who can only watch

But cannot participate

Can only talk

But their opinions are as good as none

WEEKLY DIARY

My weekends are always filled with a dullness and ardent trepidation of staying all alone at home while the lovers prune their feathers in a coquetted adventures, well sorry for such prelude, my name is Deborah, a male, in his twenties…hi everyone!

My apartment have a lushed green paintings on the wall, serene, well lit and the chirping of the birds makes lovers and precarious artist to long for such peaceful ambience while they indulge in their tripartite state, every weekend I speak my passions and failures to my diary and cry peaceful tears while the source of annoyance dissolves the ink ferociously slashing the dull white paper.

This weekend seems a little bit different because I have this neighbor, young intelligent, never touch me type of a girl who admires my apartment and envies my little diary and every week she sneaks in to take a peep at my naughtiness and today she came undressed…stark!

Well trust me, you know I don’t see those kind of stuffs, she called from the parlour that I should hurry that she is missing something today and with such hurry I meet her dressed all inside my head and she handed the invitation to a party in her room, 'just the two of us' she then winked and walked away suggesting my passion and the failure of my weekend pains has suddenly been answered, with a sinister smile she rolled her eyes like the flashing akara to a hungry man!

Testosterone adrenaline combo is a bad piece of events! Suddenly she called again…the party is now 'fine boy' my neighbor is beautiful tall fair and shinny kind of a woman that has never showed any sort of chumminess, but today is an adventure and today we must find the reason behind those beautiful smile and that cold attitude, first I screamed back 10 minutes I will be there!  

I took my bath sprayed my best perfume, sprayed my mouth wash and looked a thousand times the mirror and then swaggishly approached her apartment and suddenly my phone rang……..to be continued next week

Love from Tara

DECEIT....HARDEST IN LOVE...

                   

    

What man desires is like the look of a well powered face

Well presented …badly packaged..

Same as beautiful women…but bad wives

Why should man be deceived with magic and charm?

Fantasies and imagery have been the concept of deception

Man loves a finished production

And hates the workable, painstaking revelations

That follows a well tailored manipulation

Why is the heart flummoxed in a deep rot in the soul?

Why do we cry in deception and not lies?

Why do we sway in infatuation and not love?

Why do we follow politicians and not pastors?

Facials are rabid imaginations of unforeseen disasters

Clouded in deep dark mist of deception

But shines like a knight on a new armour

Beware for all that glitters and flutters are not made of gold