08_loner's flash

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Loners FlashFirst Published 2008Copyright Usman Balarabe Aliyu 2008

ISBN 978-978-088-990-6

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, thereproduction in any medium of this book in whole or in

part is prohibited without the prior written permission ofthe publisher.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not,by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out orotherwise circulated without the publishers prior consentin any form of binding or cover other than that in which it

is published and without a similar condition including thiscondition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Printed by Usana Prints,Published by: Usana Publishing Company Limited,Usana Complex, 39/41 Broadcasting Road,P. O. Box 1584,

Minna NigeriaEmail: [email protected]


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Loners FlashA collection of Poems

By

Usman Balarabe Aliyu

Poetry SeriesUsana Complex Minna: 17 June 1990


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The poet:

Usman Aliyu was born of Aliyu Mu'azu, Sarkin Yakin Minnaand Amina Usa, on Wednesday June 17, 1953 in Minna,Niger State.

His Academic quest ran thus:Elementary Education, Minna and Sokoto: 1960-66Secondary Education, Birnin Kebbi: 1967-71

Higher School Certificate (HSC) in 1973, SokotoBachelors Degree (BA), (ABU) Kano: 1974-77Post Graduate Diploma (PGD) in 1982, London.

His other engagements were:Co-operatives, Abuja till June, 1972.National Youth Service (NYSC) 1977-78, Lagos.Employment with (NTA) from 1978-84, Minna

Film Production, Usana Complex Minna 1984-96.Bricks Manufacture, 1997-2006, Minna and Funtua.

His authorial endeavour:Gone missing Adventure series 1Eye for Order Adventure series 2A Widows Dew Adventure series 3Beyond Guilt Adventure series 4

Trailing Power Drama PlayThe Children of the Republic Drama PlayLoners Flash a collection of Poems

Usman Aliyu was a family man with children: eightdaughters and seven sons, including a double set of twins!


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LONERS FLASH INTRODUCTION

This is a collection of poems originating from the earlyyears of the poet, starting from his teens, throughadolescence to adulthood. They deal with variety ofsubjects reflecting the inner thoughts of his life. Thecollection is not arranged in any of that pattern, however.This is done in order to sustain both the sense of surprise

and certain interest at the lack of order in the way eventsdo crop up in real life.

Usman Aliyu 2007


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1-BEING HUMAN

envy being human?not lonely, dying alone,being of those thinking working machines?

or missing not being human?no sharing craze,

now, not sharing in pain, being called to joy:snared honour, rights trapped, anti-human belief?

enjoy not being human?not giving more for less, scattering in waste;coined terms defining human nature anew!


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2-SHE NEEDS PURE

At the cleft of some day,A baby was being bornAs the sun writhes out of cloudsSilent yellow above, noisy red on the ragThe birth of stars would be a messy sight.The baby was a girlBut, the sun was a star

As the sun was convoyed by starsThe baby was wrought in trash.With dreams rising up to the skyThe girl would have nothing but unique

She got everyone called in for a testThere was the limply, soft-spoken idol

A potential reject, no doubtOh, mum, what will I do with a lame?

They got everyone lined up for a checkThere was the blind, soft-treading dollA potential reject, no doubtOh, dad, what will I do with a gloom?

Then came at late no one knew from whereA radiant physique, tall, pretty starOne most acceptable, no doubtOh, mum, what will I take but this lush?They hurried the two into unionBlinded by erroneous surface values


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She limped away into vastnessAs her jade lured her away

They treaded through the short grassLashed growth with butterfliesAnd tiny worms blessing greenOf crawling venous and spreading bloom

Then they reached the thick growth

Canopied rodents and climbing primeSoon, her mate dropped his dressRevealing jelly unusual frame

Her pickle heart ached for releaseShiver through her tiny spineStream of sweat running in spiteOf her inner prayer to get back to men

Was this not what she yearned for?Unique, atypical, out of commonWhen she herself was most bareJust certain frame with alluring trait?


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3-THIS INJURY

I have been out thereShown much as to feelEncroaching misery that knows no border,Let me pour out this injuryIt may be those hoarding means or remedyMay dress troubled souls,Those injured out there!

4-IF I WERE SOME LION

If I were some lion in this landThis uneven, of forked rivers of mad fish,I would drain the watersThis water that enlivens the fish

For love to see them wring awayIs that not what the lions do?

Or these tall trees of black wealth,Proud canopies, twisted roots full of acid messIf only I were the lion among the beastsI would roar at the feathered and the crawlersFor love to see them wring away

Is that not what the lions do?


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But, I was nonentity, nobody at allWell, not the lion not the lambNot even the lions aide, or jerboaThe small mouse that could befriend the bigCertainly, not the lioness,She, not mandated, but full of credence

Not being that large in this bush, I will assure,The fishes have their acid puddle

The little monkeys fear no cages or pressureYet, these brutes will be in muddleSure, I will pay to be that lion,For love to see the weak wring awayIs that not what the lions always do?

5-REBELS PROPS

I thank them, those whom I must,Whose naming robs away their glory:They know themselves being few,Each by competing annoying doubt,Nursed a faith in a growing rebel

There is whose names I must call,

A group with no recognizable glory,Silent deprived nameless multitude,For each doubtless disabling disregard,The might of a budding rebel is propped

Sweet inconformity though has its price,


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Inconsistency is never part of it,Will it be me to say thank you,Pride, no, not anger, not hatred,No annoyance though without just cause

I, being what I am, thats all,But they who must be thanked know,Exposed they shall be much less,By not exposing them I am much

To them indebted of being thankful

6-MAN AND HIS WORK

Man is intended for work; is he not?What beauty, such handcraft, he isCurved fair with crowded faculties.Work, whatever, defines him much;

Crazed for fading titles and regalia

Man is designed to work; is he not?Work to shame, blame or fame, he isUnmarked, by name, lost with time.Give man his work to suffer his pain,Make him live not dead still, without.

Man is measured with work in mind;Waste him not in beggary with pain;By chance, honour he may curve by itOr be of some hassle to other souls;Then a certain destiny of his fulfilled?


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7-BLOSSOMING TREE

thank those who watered the blossomed treeMany among the living and the deadSome visible storms, most mere vanishing dewThis measure they gave to its strength;

acknowledge the hindering worms and pestsadd also the seasons of pollinationsThey chided the edgy sensitivity to commune;To all thesededicate the bitter fruits

8-THE DIVERGENT TRIO

A certain trio it is set on a good course;They all have some hope in this mixture:Such as of money, of will and of power,Unless as it is in a riotous progeny, oneGiven to breaking up, as by inclination

This conflicting trio is on a good cause,But, there is confusion sure in this mix:

Cluttered, with means, frantic as dogs,Erratic, with will, intense as cats, then,Overstated, with crowd, frenzy as rats


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Opposing trio, this is, on a lose course,They would not agree as to what to do,Pride, or competing envy and meannessNor could they agree on what else to do;They watched their acquired power sip off

This contrasting trio will get stuck, soon,To separate, finally as their guides vanish;Unbecoming will-less with such means, so,

Raising such crowd without Means or WillOh dear- is the trio unity fated to any place?

9-THOSE BARRIERS

Those barriers keep us uniqueClad in white or shades of blackOr in tongues tied to certain click,

But, none of these barriers we setOurselves or by our own default

Thus marked by this curse or blessOur happy days seem that far away.

Let it be in this place, and this time,Those barriers which give us class

Though to us seeming randomness,


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Against man and his progeny,On attributes he could not change,Be they of colour, shape or tongue,Be erased, or jarred aside to allowWhat makes humankind unique

Free being full of blessTwisted by absurd implantsYet yearning to be free again

To be in company of the free

10-COMING BACK AGAIN

My Love, fresh flower plucked,With Time, our thorns come alightWe now seek the dark sidesLocked parties in enmity

Though the mould was in pairsThe parties are now moving apart

The joy of each to each is closedOh beauty, the chain of my mindWhen shall freedom knock on our door?When in lock our senses remainBut where the senses open

The heart fails so often


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Come on my vein of lifeGuard against the aims of limeRelax the chain of hateInvade and hide in my heartAnd drink the sweetness of my art

Awake the sleepy oneRepel the cruel aims of timeSet aside the chains of home

Side not the wantonLeast the life turns phantom


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11-GLIMPSE OF THE END

Am I in a dream?My words and actions all afloatWith self induced restivenessOr is this consciousness?

Am I awake?Seeing all these frightening visions

This unmistakable glimpse of gloomOr have I attained awareness?

Is this the end?The end which man reaches at the endTransmuted into a perfect alertness,Elevated motive consciousnessWith time diffusing into space,

Space without boundaries,Just Kaleidoscopic future history

Is this really the end?Am I thus to account, this day,Being so preoccupied with stock,For those pleasures of my kismet


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12-FICKLE ITCHES

I cannot be old not to love-Is love itself not ageless?I cannot be weak not to love-Is love itself not meekness?

My dear had probed my heart;She found a deep hole in there.

Well, my heart has a missing pearl.Am I then too strong to love?

I too had probed my loves heartI found a hard core in there.Well, that heart has a missing feel.Is my love too weak to bear?

Yes, my bones are weak,So are my selecting eyes,But the poundings in this cageAccept no such failing thought.

Has my love held that tight?Fickle itches in a caged heart.My dear is wrinkled with time,

Will this pain weather away?

I also cannot be that weak-Fickle itches in a caged heart.But, can my love be that strongOr will that beauty last long?


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13-LOOKING BACK

I am now deadHad I not died, the story would differ,But I am now deadI know much moreMy dames beauty was a weathering pasteShe was with the clusters than with meThe children, forgettable and unforgiving

I had friends, who took flight,Gone with my things and with my moneyNo did my honour escape their grabI now know much moreThe houses sold, the gardens gone brownWas I wise to stack notes for those ants?Or stuff wardrobes with all shreds?Had I not died

Change would be painfulWould I appeal, bully, and intimidate,To be a noble and a noticeableNow, I will have an epitaphHere liesor better still,Here stands a manWho had left behind, no, or many regrets!


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14-NOSTALGIC AFFAIR

She was fair to meSeemingly to her and those much awayShe was fair in preying on my heartA tender weakling with raw experienceInto which she punched deep holes.

I was also fair to her

Seeming to myself and my naive wayI was fair in playing with her nerveA quivery thing yearning for stabilityOn it I left large venomous stains.

We were a fair pairRinged for a prolonged boutShe was a sprout from milkier roots

Sculptured ivory with tender curvesPainfully armed with cunning claws

We were a fair pairIntense in causing ourselves much painI was an upgrade from untamed catmintCurved ebony with borrowed face, I wasDownily powered with fake feel

She was fair. I was fair.Yet, our narrow boxboard was unfair;It ejected us from the maddening bout,Though bruised with lingering pain,We secretly wished to go back to it.


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15-PAST LIFE

This life was much clusteredDriven by fear rather than desireOf poverty or for wealthI have been crowned with one andEnslaved by the other

This life was much wasted

Preoccupied with the perishables,Mistaken for the enduringThe needy here, the needy thereTo brighten by a little kindness

Will I live a life afresh?With possibility to make a recallTo set aright those twisted links

Light out of eyes, sound out of ears,Hustling but still or lonely in a crowd

Why this lifeIn a body I cant control?Vibrant just a while agoWhy this drift into retarded destinyWhy be, if at the end, I be not?


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16-THE RECOLLECTIONS OF THE DEAD

I am no ghost, but I am dead.Had I not been in this state I would know lessWhat was it I had done or avoided?Were they avoidable accounted choices?But I am dead and I am not a ghost.Should the living be deterred by delayed consequence?When ours is a time of broken codes!

Has the inevitable come to pass?Has it or has it not?Death is a curtain, is it not?I should know because I am dead.You are oft to ask, though:Is what I meet what I have sent afore orIs what I left behind a source of any regrets?I am not a ghost, but I am dead

Had I not died,Might this be a deterring scare?

17-DISAPPOINTMENT

Blindly they picked himThen brought light beside himAlas a ghostly picture emerged

Which left hearts submerged?

Women they said opened the caveHis people then he fail to saveThus low to them he turnsWhile the former picture burns


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18-LOSS OF MY FRIEND

He was not just a neighbour, but a mate 1But who would notice any similarity?He wasnt that exceptional but likeableHe iswas quite differentYet, dont be deceivedHe was agile and snouty

Certainly, he got noticed, 7How lucky,Nothing special,All had same openingWhat was unique to him came laterWhat a challenge! He had a wind fall,

But he was transformed 13

Was it that easy to make a change?By bending lawsYou could gather much moreNo one checked..?Your conscience should warn thus,In its absence or in addition,A friend or someone

And he did not stop? 21Initially he did, nothing,Gradually, accustomed,Then, all consumed he wasWhat a pity!


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Something snapped 26A roaring heat under the seatBut he had his oracle manWas he saved?You could sayHe got excuse not to mendHow sad!

He got trapped 33

Alms to the poorThe spit of blood, chickenWhat abomination!Then it was the deadTo silence the outcryThat is awful

The fees got increased 40

With daring exploitsHow?Fresh fleshWhat?Young kids gone amissNeighbours building suspicionThe area was left in frightThen he built his city 48


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What of authorities?He grabbed enough to reorder the lawHe welded power, sufficient to break itBy God, that was incredible!Today, the table seems to turn 53

How are we taking this loss?Sadly 55

Who are you dinning on?The rise and fall of that manHow can you talk about the man?Whose funeral is set to go? 59

How can you?There is no false in this taleIt is still not right.

Eating a dead meat!He did what he didWill you enjoy the witness box?What is it in for you?The man did what he did 67

And you..?In this neighbourhood

You were onlooker or admirerWith no hatred or dismay in betweenIt would warn others, this taleOr damage you? 73


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I respect your opinion,But respect mineI say what I sayEven though distasteful?Actually disgusting,In spite or in envy,That sounds familiar 80

19-THE PALM CONVERSATION

The wind moves amidst the strands,Forcing the fingers of the palms,To greet the starry sky,And a heart in metal boxAloes- aloes, the noble is hereBringing rare brothers hail.

Along this passage lined we,with dust on us as fee,With us sleep the bodies of those sonsWatered by redden liquid of goreOf the fugitives running through the valesAnd the pursuing madness against virtues

It was here the false sun roseWith stony hearts raised to kill,Was the bare men ever brought to mind?When guns rung through the palms?Sending to darkness the virtuous,Amid their sons the best they ever got?


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The palms raised prayers to heavenThat the hearts may feel free againTo visit this virtues valleyFree and clean as be its natureFor the love of ManTied ever to times strings.

20-THE QUEENS MEN

Passing by those baobabs and the silk-cotton trees,I was drenched into silent experience,

Theirs,The Queens men-

Those chosen, tall and hefty, men-Wrapped and belted against will,Enslaved also against self,

They were defenders of a way of life.Theirs, they were told.

The Queens men; she whose history was a haze.

She lived, she died or she lived not.But, they, the queens men,They were witnesses to their fearsAnd also to their aspiration and,With no doubt, as to their end.


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They faced a wave from some west sea clime;It brought sea wasps that had learnt to crawl,They were land swarming and devouring wasps,Other Queens men;she whose history was no haze.

These men stood as vigour drummed their hatred-Anything but eastward was a portent bad omen:Be it northward wind, southward water or

This westward creeping blow.They were proud defenders of a way,Might be theirs or that of their imaginary Queen,Or of a distant lineage that enslaved its progeny.They stood now against a waveA lust of an intemperate Queen.

The restive fence by the baobabs and silk-cotton,

Though planted tight, holding light, did not hold.Soon, the shivery legs started to succumb.The primordial arrangement begun to fall.It was engulfed by fury, and murderous hatred.

Was it right for the Atlantic to betray her neighbours?She had washed ashore the balls and barragesAgainst the guts of the darkened men of a queen,

She of Zauzau,Whose phantom they now cast in doubt.


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Would that counterpoise what the Sahara did afore?Or bring a certain unnameable bad mix?Sure, the baobabs witnessed butcheries,The silk-cotton bore stains of treacheries;How much shall we now pay for such foolery?

21-THE RICH AND THE POOR

Look here,

The affluent have their spheresOur drudgery is not their squabblesMust they carry the weight of others?And treat them as much as theirs?

I dont know, butThe deprived too have their spareIf nothing else, they have their pride

Being dispossessed and left so bareDignity then is their consoling bride

22-THE SEED OF GOODNESS

There is a seed come from abovePure breed of rare fragranceEncapsulated promise of bless,

What better heath for this rarityFor that heart as accepts it weakness


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His was lineage of starsA chariot through galaxy historyFrom baked template, temped by the vile,Source to a would be many a Caesar and Hitlers,And those tamed fountains of world peace.

Then the builder of such a large arkFloating ecology, heading for resting placeFrom which sprout the warring Mongols

The lambs of Moa and Malcolm X, andSuch as shed light to the souls of men

One chosen to befriend the most high,Reared young by the Tigress to loathWhat a collection of elevated trailIn whose wake was faultless beautyDrawing unearned blame

Then the strong arm with a blessed staffAnd his cool-headed lieutenantTo a mission to rescue a hard tribeIn which would come the best menAnd also the worst men,A wealthy mean fellow of bad name,Full of gold and a weak heart,Much ready to love the bad guys


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23-THE REPUBLICAN CHILDREN

Who sees the future?They, the childrenWhich?The children of the republicWhat is that?[A burst of laughter]You dont know?

Shame. Everyone knows these Children. 8

Beware! Yes, take care,The children shall come at times tail.From lowly acquired dinginess,Parented by obscured little means,They will be lean, barefoot raritySoon, to be warped, wrapped and fatty. 14

Now, you know these children?It is like to innocence, contradictions.You now begin to see the ruse. 17

They censure and take no counsel;Scary with little resolve,These are our children

The children of a mad republic 21


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They seem quite a baddie group,Sure,Rich, commanding, wicked in selfishness!Kai, what kind of specie is that? 25

You shall know these by shapes:Large and ravenous, round and idlySquare, in demand of excellence,Hoping to give none, much coned, 29

Making any sense of this spiral? 30

This is a conundrum!Our fathers were no riddle men,They said, in their weak viewVisions they saw in such darkness 34

These dinosaurs own fortressFountains, vaults and flood lightsYet, owners lurk in cubiclesWorshipped by ignorance,They are abhorrent to even their own,Barred by sniffer brutes and razor wires 40

I still do not comprehend this thing. 41

Nothing is that plain with the ape-ageWith the beasts issuing from old cageThese children of the republicAre spoken of only in vagueness.They were phenomenal, big junk. 46


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What is that?The way they came about?Tell us about these refurbish broodScary eh, I want to know them, all 50

What I tell is no merchandise,But a guide against the bad dates,Of these times-

Dates of the children-The children of the republic! 55

Noble men shall nurse kindnessSeeking greatness of zilchTheir hope,To shake off servitude,But, they shall incubate adder eggs.

Then, they shall lay down their lives 61

Now I am confused, againShut up, lets hearHear what?The children of the republicBut the children had maturedInto what?

Self-interest! 68

When are these things coming about?They are already about.So, they devour all the things?Whats left is a hoard


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That is indulgent! 73

You certainly are smart!But, beware of the children 75

I love to hate these guys! 76

I told you, they are real_ 77

But they shall not lastTheir eggs are weak, They do not hatchThey weather away and fall to rot 80

My fathers then have said the truth.What did your fathers tell you? 81

From the ashes of those nobles,

Men will madden to cry,There shall be separation, 84

Issuing confusionShall bring forth these other childrenDespaired, Despondent multitudesSprout in defiance of scheming restrainsTo counter those wilting children

Whose supremacy shall come to end 90

Who is the other?Who are these? Who are those?Children..? 93


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We are these, I suppose,They are those, I am not sure,But we have got choice to makeWaifish tenants of this republic,This day, your day has just come.Arise!

24-TO ONE SINGLED OUT

Before the pride of nature, I lay,In anticipation of a flowery future,Free from manly vanity.

With what joy your love is drunkWhile my past falls apart, the pieces by my feet,That your beauty does not depart.

In radiance of love I sing and prayFor none ever to be same as you,A finer art never had been.

To your face dear the sun is dimmed,As the stars to you they bow,My hungry eyes trained for your sight.

My heart, like a bow is bent,Eager to shoot my pointed love at you,Lest the time prevents the joy


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25-AN EPITAPH

Allow me cry, God, for those who cant cryMake me be heard for those who cant beLet me die free,Let me not live in chains.I thank you, God, for allowing me beAll that I had wanted to be

26-WHAT I CAN WISH

Did you notice those shoes?Whose shoes?That man with those menWhat about them?

They are imported.

You are ambitious!I can wish, can I not?Well, you can. But, look at them.What about them?The men too are imported!

They are his friends.Their friend is dead.Death then is our friend


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These people enjoy life.Are we here to dig grave or to watch them?To dig grave, of course;

Well, they look very out of place, to me

That is wealth.Glitter, bulging pockets-

They are like city rats, grabbingDoes that tantalize you?

That is lifeEating, travelling and counting money!

Well, the occupant of this hole had eatenHe was that fat, and he was counted

Look what the counting did to him

Wealth is busy body with restful mindThat is freedom, and these guys get itPoverty is restless mind in still body

As for death it comes to allThen why bother?

Then why come?How can you live to die?


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Being noticed is money. And money is livingThey live, they dieThe poor get cocooned in livingAnd the death to them is not easier

How much you idolize them,They have their fears, every one does

Does that compare with the poor?

They fear both life and livingAs much they suffer dieing,Why are you determined on faults finding?

Just to make you seeSee that there is anything good in poverty?

You still like them?

Like them? Come on, I adore themThey are the cream and the bestI love them because I hate poverty


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27-OUR FATHERS

These are our fathers beyond recognitionThese are also our sons without recognitionMellow to her with a luring teasePicked by the canine by mistakeA snooty noseWithout a smell for the beautifyHungry and cruel

Likely to be broken heartedYes, there are our fathersAnd these, our sonsWe must lament these momentsFaced by unwanted ours

28-AVOIDING TASK

Bad people sing songs for everything goodGood people know good peopleThey stimulate the good in themThe singers know what is goodSo they circumvent doing well

The emulators know what is badSo they struggle to leave it alone

But singers are seen more oftenThey are also heard so regularlyThus ignorance makes mistakeHonouring the noisy for the goodMaking copies that make everything bad


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29-PRICKLY ROSE

She was beautifulA woman written in large printEasy to read but hard to understand

She was beautifulBut she was also cruelA rose, much of the thorn than Petals,

Prickly- in-between dear ones-Who will exchange this tear?This precious tearFor a laughter between the Tigers teeth

She was beautiful,But she was also oldThe wrinkle announced so,

So also the tired heartOne butchered with marksEach an appointment missed

I gave her my heartBut she needed moreI was thinking it was my timeBut her fingers were busy

Grooving through my soul


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She was beautifulBut she also dangerousThat I leantWhen it was of no useFor I had given to her all I had-The core self of myself-

30-MY DREAM

The dream was a simple oneOf the babe squeezed between lapsJust to have a tagSomething to wear throughIn this place where a ragOf name or characterMarks man humanWithout which he cant go through

I was not lucky to be born here,A ravaging infested place,Yet I had no choiceOf date, place or dear mom,How he chose was chosenBy such a no lucky dumb

We shall seeWho wears the other through?My little hatredOr my little love


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31-THE SILENT INVADERS

They arrived stealthily through the fenceThrough the woods and across the sandsNo one perceived that a coming threatSingles, weakly, diseased and perceived lostThey eyed the place and mapped the clave

Some returned hence they had come,

Many succumbed to unknown enemyDrooping pitifully at the death doorstepThey left legacy that meant little to usThat was readily handed to the next of kin

These ones came with bundles and parcelsMaking their arrival noisy and enticingEven though, with them were the changers

Those replacing our wooden safe keepersOur past guardians and our gatekeepers

Then came the barrages and the blood-drawersWe stood dumbfounded watching our collapseMurmuring our regrets for not barring the weaklyThose who appeared from nowhere to spyTo tell their kin of our dumb strings and talisman

They stuck their flag and declared ownershipOn those farms and hedges upon which we prideThose hills where the souls of our fathers dwellWhere afore now we shouted to echo our praiseHow now we wished we had deterred their swell


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They coined some prehistoric tags for usGiving us shapes to make us look uncommonThen they forced us into certain unionSpreading our hind legs for continual milkingFor they had just developed insatiable hunger

They bundled some of us into hateful hardshipRestrained head to toe, towed across the waves

We were iron branded in shame and abuseAs they spread the lie: this tan is unacceptable;May the maker of variety curse that judgement

After awhile they discovered us a hindranceThey returned the bad coin, quite bruised,Badly abused, totally mutilated and uselessClaiming it fit better within the trees and groves

Than the icy vales or prairies at far away shores

Afore long, they changed our swayThey declared our roomy tongues illegalGiving us in place jerky words- hard to speakOnes that dont tell what the heart containMaking it shy to announce yourself

Then came the shame of dismantlementOf the paths bearing our craven feet,The roof over our ageing bones, the food,The proud skins and the threads, even the names,Those that gave definition who we were


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We were reared to hate this place, at lastTo hate the tambourine and taking drum,To loath the bonfires and the night awlTo throw away the beads and headscarfTo discard anything that gave meaning to us

In place, the silent arrivals had taken the home,The tiny opening had give rise to wide gapsThe colourful mats had walked away

Now our bones lay on soft rag, lethargicAlways waiting for others to feed us

The sole adventurer had finally wonThrowing away the carvings and the statuettesThose feathered guides to ancestral rootWithout which our feet became shakyLeaving hanging with no where to go

To complete our total disrobement,They gave us up to certain select groupAlien, though bearing our semblanceThese herded us intermittent bloodlustThey are confused as to where to take us

We were sure reared to hate this place

Since they gave us their guitar and their tongueThose short names and strapped gownsThey made us shameful of our past and of nowFinally they have got us in their trap!


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32-CHARACTER CHANGE

I never thought it was that hardTill I turned my back to what I lovedEasy and simple supportSo, I thought-

Unquestioning, the present or the next feedOr the crispy notes ever present in my purse

Or the waning smiles of the changing DameThen, awakening-

Seeing the ill my ease cost allThose in my care or far from purviewImpatient for a smirk of a parvenuThen, a-desire

I never thought it was that hardTill I turned my face to what I adoreLike an elephant watchful of its treadOr the hungry tiger with its preyExamining the victual on its palate


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I never thought it was that hardTill I turned my mind to what I abhorThe garb on my rind and a dream abodeSeeing the muddle that was my lifeThen, changing-

Just giving what I knew was theirsNot taking what I knew was oursThen, freedom-

With it, serenity and a promiseTo be my own self, everThen, I knew it was that hardTo turn my back to what I lovedTo turn my face to what I loved

Usman Aliyu 2012

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