Thursday, March 19, 2009
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Thursday, March 19, 2009
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 Even on the path of the farthest odyssey life breathes ceaselessly. With comrades drenched in endless glee; bread of oneness is served indiscriminately
Hand in glove, we set out as savage lions prowling through the canyons we slaughtered hatred with no gun dance while we burn our angst in the sun
In the widest desert, through the gale the howling wilds begets no frail we fastened our minds – we pray our armour’s thickened by the day
Amidst the wrathful seas – we stand brimming the air from the shore of our homeland is the ambient music, the party’s grand with a euphonic chorus ‘our heroes are back in the land’.
Monday, March 2, 2009
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Monday, March 02, 2009
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 In broad daylight they draw nigh, waiting for the rain to restore their lives
they stand in unison their shadows stand by them
In accord, they all sing for freedom - the same song apartheid lost to the same that sets our colour free the same my unborn ideas sing tirelessly
Monday, February 23, 2009
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Monday, February 23, 2009
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Calumet of our ancestors
shielded jealously like an infant
buried alive like imhotep
On our alley
lives this Vintage, antique
(we walk heedlessly on it)
for decades
Today…
my father stumbles on this treasure
where he could be lost on his armchair
on the terrace;
sending - goodwill message to the moon -
alluring redolence to the gods
exorcising our turmoil
He discovered how to
exhale his wounds
away through a siphon
via the token of peace
freeing ivory Soaring birds –
to spin freely on a dusking sky
far from here
their aerie in a blank air
When he blinks
he bids farewell to his fret;
when he hems
a wound says "I am heal"
Tomorrow…
some men are coming
to sniff their nose around
from the museum – I presume
for my father's treasure.
Friday, February 13, 2009
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Friday, February 13, 2009
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1. I dream in daytime. Sleep at night
2. Weekdays crawl...weekends run.
3. Clef was born in the church, raised in the streets…I was born and raised in the street.
4. I like dancing (when i'm alone)
5. I’m a die-hard Chelsea fan. This club has been breaking my heart in recent time even with Guss Hindink as the new victim sorry caretaker.
6. My future plan as stated in my school year book is “breeding children in multitude for my nation (Nigeria). I don’t know why I’ve not started yet. Nigeria needs children…plenty plenty children..lol
7. I developed a serious phobia for water after watching “deep blue sea” and “the beach”. Still having this awkward feeling that sharks may be somewhere in a pool hiding…don’t laugh pleeeaaasssseee!
8. Calculation - my other phobia. I despise it.
9. I believe sacrifice is a gift your friends and folks deserve anytime.
10. OK…last year I cried while watching a movie, still trying to figure out why.
11. My …girlfriend thinks I’m too good to be true. My ex actually!
12. I enjoy writing. The best time I write is when I want to. At work I do it willy nilly.
13. I’m a Full Blooded Indigene of 9ja. I believe so much in my mofatherland.
14. It took my parents like a decade to know i’m a good child…still having the same problem with some friends…Don’t worry, take ur time!
15. Does Vals affect birth & abort....rate? Just wondering!
16. I’m a fan of Batatunde Raji Fashola. I think he’s a good, responsive and active governor.
17. I tell lies when necessary e.g.… at job interviews…knowing what the interviewer(s) wants to hear and saying it, is the rule of the game. Y should u lose a job for no reason?
18. I believe in God and Jesus as my personal saviour. I also believe that after bad leadership, religion comes before brain drain in Africa’s drawbacks. These are the proud parents of poverty - the mother of epidemics
19. I Laugh Out Loud! A lot!
20. I tap loads of inspiration from listening to music.
21. I chose Solomon as my baptismal name (long time ago)…My Uncle who’s a pastor objected it…his reasons were not convincing enough, so Solomon it is!
22. Déjà vu!
23. I love country music. Odd? At a time I was so much into Akpala.
24. I hardly stare, but when my eyes r on it, I grasp...
25. …some things are better left unsaid.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
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Tuesday, February 03, 2009
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 Let’s scour this gungy cloud Shave this shaggy coast Comb and keep it kempt
Let’s rinse these filthy hands Purge this putrid game Be virescent - be potent
Let’s unfold these idle arms Slay this graft Fumigate these cankerworms
Let’s cheer this whistling breeze Curse the storm Raise our thumbs to this ornament
Let’s offer Eko our mother of pearl Revile her saboteurs Revere this new warrior like ruby
More than ever, we have this pride of belonging. Thank you BRF. Eko oni baje oo! Dare Idowu 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
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Wednesday, January 21, 2009
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 Some say replace the ‘B’ in his name with an ‘S’ and see if people would not take to their heels. The S became some people's role model before the B (their names are written in different inks in the annals of history though). In fact, when I punch the B on my computer, it suggests the S. The sentiment of semblance in names and the colour of his skin were buried as he was ticked by almost all of us to rule the ‘new world’.
The 47-year-old African-American yesterday became the 44th American president after being sworn in with the same bible used by Abraham Lincoln in 1861 (148 years ago). Today, it becomes very emotional for the human race; we sing in admiration not because he’s making history but because he’s history!
This erstwhile Illinois Senator in his preferred mien of rolling up his sleeves is offering this generation an opportunity to live in an era with a legend whose story will forever sell the tabloids. We are writing history today for others to read. Franklin Roosevelt, Abraham Lincoln, Barack Obama, Martin Luther King jnr and Daring (that’s me!) are great custodians of hope. Our effrontery to challenge conventions singles us out. Our biographies remain an indispensable source of inspiration to many.
Uneasy lies on the head that wears the crown – after taking the oath of office in the midst of wars, pall of recession and the world feeling the sting of different crisis -he can’t afford to sit on the (dilapidated) fence neither can he sleep with his two eyes shut. He must be a boys’ scout or rather a cowboy!
It’s no news that he has a chunk of files to attend to upon taking a role which no man of his breed had played …My first day in office even as a rookie public relations executive (at the threshold of my career though) was not ‘red-carpeted’, (at least he still got about 2 million crowd at a befitting inauguration ceremonies planned with $150 million). Conversely, in my case, my boss did not look at me twice to know if my head was too big for his liking, Or if i was too short to be a good PRE. He could not tell if my shirt was too crispy or crumpled…instead he emphasised that he’s not offering me an armchair job so I needed to step up my game even at the point of starting it - A good lesson this brother can learn from a fellow brother man (Don’t worry…I’m not sending my invoice yet).
Okay back at home…oh no, another official assignment to Ibadan…Please I’ll be back but in the mean time I want you to know that I don’t join the chorus of ‘yes we can’ because it is a cliché.
To be continued…
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
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Tuesday, January 20, 2009
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Friday, January 16, 2009
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Friday, January 16, 2009
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The time is now, when almost all moments bizarre, good, bad, common and etcetera will be arrested. It will only define me;
tell people how much of a good vigilante I am.
Imagine the usual brawl on the streets of Lagos, when the lout escapes with the bash
Imagine the off-the-cuff visit of the rainbow with just fingers pointing and naked eyes registering just to the mind.
Imagine the picture of a man falling over from a skyscraper (God forbid…but there’s no good news as bad news).
Would my parents have told me they never argued – all in the name of trying to render marital advice – if I had captured one
of their sessions.
Ever wondered how we got the clips of the American Airlines Flight 11 spontaneously crashing into the WTC?
The real picture of Clinton and Liewinsky at the real location would have been a scoop for me, you know. (that's if it ever happened)
…and when events unfold without me apprehending them, I ask myself “where is the ‘paparazzi’ in me?’ WATCH OUT!
Friday, January 9, 2009
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Friday, January 09, 2009
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She needs more than a step to make it work where only a step works for her peers. She’ll overtax her voice to be heard, she’ll love to play and be equal with peers. She’s got their nature, not their nurture. What different is it if they were dead; after all, parental care is a dream, a fantasy she longs to have. She is an inseparable friend of Physical and emotional ill treatment. She thought they were foster parents because to them she’s a burden. Orphans are still starving and languishing around the place. Abandoned here and there, striving to taste life at least, if good life is a luxury. Who would now listen to the story of a child with living parents? I think many ‘strangers’ would, with a truck-full of advice. “You need to appreciate your parents, they gave you life; they can’t provide all your needs”. She didn’t ask for their heads. “You should be thankful to God, some people just want the presence of their parents, nothing else. You don’t have any problem, all you need do is persevere and make them see reasons that you are a good child!” Hmm…so easy to say! People know her shoe hurts but the degree is what nobody can tell except her. A pawn. Sorry a child whose father is a celebrated philanthropist in all the local joints in the neighborhood. “Serve them round, we spend money, money don’t spend us”. In fact if he decides to be a responsible and a responsive father tomorrow, Mama G’s beer parlour and other beverage stores around would experience a drastic decline in sales and possibly wind up after a short while. Her mother is not the social type that goes out drinking. She has a deep repugnance for ‘Owambe’. She’s a good moth…hmm…No!...a good woman. She respects and honours her husband. Tithe, offering, vigil, and prayer meetings cannot wait for anything. “Prayers can solve it all.” Her parents could not stand the shame of seeing their child getting her own education only by doing chores and hawking while their friends’ children are in school. Only on this basis, she got dumped in a public primary school. A school where teachers embark on self and general strike at will. Compulsory Holidays on rainy days – special thanks to dilapidated school structures. She learns more of her teachers’ merchandise than the school curriculum (that’s if there is any). She’s got a big map of ‘God knows where’ on the back of her school uniform - the best aunty Obioma, the 'cut and patch' expert on their street could do to rescue her aged and pale school uniform. One day - one of those days that our thoughts are perfectly interpreted in Acts and scenes - her mother showed her so much love and affection. Her father joined the chorus, he cuddled and kissed her; they gazed into her tears-friendly eyes that now embrace a great sigh of bliss as they all merry together. Whoever wrote the script of that dream is a fan of happy ending …and they live happily ever after. Not yet! The dream bounced and became an unforgettable nightmare. In reverie of a sweet dream, they could read happiness in block letters on her face. This is considered a big threat to the family, especially the mother whose pastor had earlier proclaimed that one of the ways to pick a witch in the family is when their sons or daughters laugh or smile indiscriminately. That day, she got the beating of her life! She’s vulnerable, naïve. She ponders about several happenings as every little thing turns out to be a misery; she has a long list of disturbing and unanswered questions. She’s growing with a strong feeling of isolation and alienation from her folks. For now she’ll choose freedom over love. She desires an open door to see a new dawn. New beginning blessed with joy and a more assuring future only that her elder brothers are still out there trying to make a living as their background had inflicted a great deal of hardship on them. They drip to earn a penny. Who is SHE? She is any Nigerian Child subjected to physical, emotional, and mental ill treatment of any sort. She lives everywhere in the country. She's a child not a burden! The other Money spinning cause dwarfs her cause so nobody is paying attention to her plights. Her parents are mere public smokers who get pardoned every time because there are murder, looting, kidnapping and other ‘serious’ case files pending. It’s a pity!
Monday, November 24, 2008
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Monday, November 24, 2008
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After a long, very long day
The night comes Elopes with the breath Bids farewell to the poor body It ceases taking care of itself It’s another man’s job Upon exit Eulogy becomes the reigning song “He’s nice! It shouldn’t be him” Who should it be? Their eyes grow misty …The priest would say No amount of tears can revive him You cannot survive without him Here’s the best time to let him know; Go with him! This message like a knob Turns down the volume of their ear-splitting squall Squall borne out of fear Fear, they’ll wear his shoes someday To every man It remains a lump of gristle Not to be cherished Like a tantalising meal of no blemish Cherish? A man appears in his ceremonial outfit; Sprawl in a glorified box Get compliment, salutes from folks Mute he is Six feet below the surface of the soil Descended into a one-man apartment Dust to dust…they’ll say Adieu, off they go Ever wondered the shades of birth and death This moment he came Celebrated like he’s immortal Another we see him scud Form our illusions and dreams He’s only paying his debt before us Alas! We shall not always be here.
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