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NOTHINGNESS
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ATARAKATA
 

POEMS :

ATARAKATA
(Naija jeremiad II)

Duro ko ronu
Ka tsaya ka yi tunani
Kwisi che echiche
Dop da kere

I
They’d seen the lush ambience
Of Whites-created lawns
They’d seen rich greenery
Of virgin tropical flora

They’d also-

Walked through the hearth
Swum across the seas
Tormented by the fangs
Of angry monsters
Growling
Belching
Sniffing
And gulping the salt waters
Of stumbling seasons

Then on slick-ridden deltas
Of troubled waters
They gasped for breath
And the angry mermaid, sullied
Bellowed to ejaculate on them
A shower of venom

 

II
The sea is boiling
With the rage of wounded crocs
The water oozes a stench
From the ordure of torment

Look at princes in grief
Panting with bile uncaged
Looking but unseeing
Whining and wheezing

 

This is no samba
As they were told
But mamba dance
Driven by scorpion-whips

Palpable chips of phlegm
Fill the fauces of dawn
But the night opens its mouth
In darkling silence

Benumbed, they spin and drone
In biting torment
Uttering a plethora of Cants
And rancid prayers

Do not fret fellow wayfarers
Lest your carriage breaks
In the dingy bowels
Of this virtual dungeon

 

III
There is a void in this tormented homestead
A yawning void, conflated
Into frozen growls
Of cataclysmic howls.

Life is stilled into a night
(An interminable long night)
With the sludge of scum. And
Satanic debris of paranoid potentates

The chateau is nestled with goons
In hot pursuit of game
They parade the alcove
And litter its sinews with lewd droppings

There’s an eruption in the house
Or is it a disruption
Of ancestral eponyms
Amid patented indiscretion?

 

 

See! The house is on fire
And out of sync its eaves
Yet fire-fighters are snoring
In sedate indifference
With ominous fallout:
Entropy
Enthalpy
Chaos
Disorder
Misorder
Utter confusion
With fractured systems
And dislocated cisterns

The same recipe
For sundry delicacies?
Blimey! This happens not
Save in the sterile minds
Of the scatterbrained.

Inanity walks on all fours
Parade the streets of virgin moments
Throwing petals of blood
And sorties of war
On the face of laughter

They contend with time
They contend with guile
They contend with bile
Of rudderless satraps.

So latch they onto an abstraction
Fated to careen them unto
A cagmag with fate:
A plain gibberish as a detour.

Their song is an ululation
Of pained expectation
A piteous supplication
For needlers and killjoy
To close their eyes on quilt
And open them in guilt:
A bear-hug with bugbear

 

Banished into ghettoed existence
And praying the Interlopers
No longer throw darts of hubris
To defile virgin seasons
They chorus in whispers:
Let’s
Think
Fast
Act
Fast
Run
Fast
And pronto
Outpace
Outwit
Outclass
These goblins

IV
In the windy chambers of the mind
A stubborn dream resurrects
To excoriate the scales of unreasoning
And resonate in the fustian space
Reverberating and dolphining
Into a reality pendulum
Of time and space

Jesus! What time is left
For shapers of tomorrow
Traducing this spectred mind-field
To exorcise the apparition of idleness
And desultory ideation?

Time to consort with masters undefiled
To cause a retreat of noxious imps
into hellhole
And pious denunciation
Of fatal sins
Of misdirection and privation

Look through the wheels of history
The pages of ancient scrolls:
Beauty is pictured in graffiti
Of chroniclers with keen eyes
For tomorrow.

 

                                       Can you see the cloud that lines the flaming horizon
With roofs of vapour-straws
Arising from the petition
Of the sun?

Can you see the chalice
Of communion-eating vermin
In the smoking chimney of windy silos?

Can you see fattening rooms of unbridled lies
Where truth is slaughtered in a purgatory of apostasy
Of pantheon connivance?

Blokes, can you sing
A new song
Or alter the lyric
Of the old?
Can the canticles of
Lamentation be swapped
For the cantata of
Voluptuous melody?

This landscape is like a basket
Filled with liquid treasure
So full yet so empty
O seers of time, consider
A mind-grafting operation
For rebirth and rejuvenation

Never again will the sun
Deny the day
The right of sunshine
In the twilight of noon
Save in the ecliptic spell
Of puerile seasons
When the brazen pall of darkness
Drowns the sunny face of dawn
In a fleeting moment of climatic madness.

There’s no true eclipse here: No
Only man-made eclipse
Where order is eclipsed by disorder
Juxtaposed on vulnerable canvas
Of mass docility and resignation

 

                                                                             V
We shall wait
Yes we shall
And kiss the face
Of hope

We shall wait
Yes we shall
And hug the robust hulk
Of resurrected El Dorado

We shall wait
Yes we shall
And see the eclipsed sun
Reboot and reshine

Do not blame us
If we wait
For in waiting men have learnt
The art of patience
That births plenitude
In the durance of pain.

But how long can we wait?
How long?

Duro ko ronu
Ka tsaya ka yi tunani
Kwisi che echiche
Dop da kere

 

 

 

 
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