Extracts from a compilation of POETIC DIALOGUE on life issues between two Poets.
I – Politics
a. They took us a goat
Stephen O. Solanke
They took us a goat
they lashed us
we meeehed
and voted for them
we became pepper-souped
They took us a cow
they lassoed us
we mooed
and rooted for them
we became roasted
We saw ourselves a dog
we roamed streets
we whooed-whooed
and raised our hind legs
we fucked ourselves
Could we just not be a lion and roar?
Could we not just be an elephant and stampede?
All can change through Voting
Voting is power
Power can change hands
Hands can rework life
Life of the common man can become Uncommon!
b. We can see them
Okeleye Joan
I can see his shinning head, bald from guilt
So, he has bought a cap to cover his shame
He walks around with a protruding belly underneath his garment
I heard he’s pregnant with wrath
For he’s not one, but two many.
I am not also one, but four many
Four two many, with eight large eyes.
And with these eyes, we see them.
Right before us, they placed money neatly in their shoes
“Hey, look at what they’re doing!”, we say.
Their reply:
“The sole of our feet is decayed! We are only trying to find a cure”.
We can see them killing a child
We marched to the police aggressively, our heads high
“There’s blood on their hands”, we chant
Their reply:
“Gunshots!!!!!”
Then follows Commotion and Silence.
We can still see them.
This time, they have given Death the keys – Boom, Boom, Boom!!!!!
And just like flies, we drop.
For our eyes have they taken away,
and our mouths have they sealed.
Still, we see them.
We can see them clearly.
This time, they have become monsters blinded with greed.
So, they begin to feast on themselves.
Now they see us.
They have tossed away their leader,
and in search of a new one, they shout,
“Vote for me! I can save you!
Vote for me! I can restore you!”
II – Psychosis
a. Blame God, Not Me
Stephen O. Solanke
I AM NOT MAD
and
NEITHER ARE YOU!
They say I am mad!
Because my 6 is not your 9
Does not make me mad.
Because I do not see your L as my 7
Does not make me mad.
Because I am a Muslim and you are a Christian
Does not make me mad.
Because you see the sky and I see the ground
Does not make me mad.
Because you are a male and I am a female
Does not make me mad.
Because you drink alcohol and I drink soft
Does not make me mad.
Because you are straight and I am gay
Does not make me mad.
Because you want to marry Mary of Jesus and I want to marry Mary of the Prostitute
Does not make me mad.
Because you are British and I am Nigerian
Does not make me mad.
I see in you a different part of God
A different manifestation of a part of the Creator
GOD should be mad
to have created us differently, madly
Blame Him or HER or IT
Not me!
for
I AM NOT MAD
and
NEITHER ARE YOU!
b. The way he makes me feel, Mad
Okeleye Joan
The way he makes me feel, Mad.
Not the mad that wears dirt on the floor
Not the mad that breaks plates, screaming in rage
Not the mad that walks around in hopeless pain
The way he makes me feel, Mad
This Mad, a locked door without a key,
an empty room, the windows tightly closed,
with me inside.
Silently paying attention to its length and breath,
passionately touching its smooth walls, moaning.
The way he makes me feel, Mad
trapped within these four walls
with no ventilation, it suffocates me
This madness punishes me with hunger
and quenches my thirst with its sweat
The way he makes me feel, Mad,
Mad, that I like this Mad,
Hungry, Thirsty, Breathless.
And an empty room that arouses me.
III – Family
a. Family
Okeleye Joan
Take a five from a trillion fives
equal to a Dad, a Mom, and three beings.
Sometimes, I would wonder how life would be
if it were a three from a trillion threes,
consisting one of the one, a different one
and a one, me.
But in my case, it’s a five.
Five against the world.
Five, a perfectly odd number
we cannot be divided
except it’s a five divided by five.
Then this five becomes nine.
Tough at first,
now we adapt slowly.
One as the head, eight the body
Yet, a perfectly odd number,
a nine divided by nine
I do know that
From several multiplications,
additions will come.
We will be subtracted, definitely
leaving room for divisions.
But deep down,
it will always be
a five against the world
and a four against Life.
b. Daddy
Stephen O. Solanke
My father,
The backbone of my mother.
The rock that I rest on
My father,
What would I have become?
Without your strength?
your love?
your care?
What about those hard stares?
those koboko lashes?
those harsh words?
You have been my mirror
a reflection of the reality I am today
a depiction of good things
a dependable rock
a flowing river of love
I remember like yesterday
Your nine months co-pregnancy with my mum
Your stress and worry the day I was born
Those teeth of yours smiling down on me in the hospital
What about you being there for me?
The uncountable sleepless nights
Me on your shoulder, knowing no harm will happen
Me in your hands, running temperature
And you worried
Thinking of solutions
Without you, my schooling might have been impossible
You gave the funds
You took me there
You encouraged me
Not only by teaching
But by your cares and actions
I love you, Daddy
So, so much
I can feel nothing less
After God, the immortal
It is you, the mortal rock
To all of us who love Daddies
No, to us all who must love their Daddies
Kindly do in your mind today, spare some praying minutes for your Daddy
For my own unblemished mirror broke
24th of May, 2005.
Bio
Joan Okeleye is a writer, a poet, storyteller, fashion designer and teacher of the English Language. She graduated from the Ajayi Crowther University, Faculty of Education. She was once locked up, lost and confused in life until she wrote her way out.
Prof. Stephen O Solanke lectures at Ajayi Crowther University specialising in Oral and African Literatures. His works include Anthology and Analyses of Poems for Senior Secondary Schools (2001), 28 Poetic Voices (2005) and the dramatic work, Alaafin Aole Arogangan. Amongst other places, he is published in Africanwriter.com, Jerry Agada’s (ed) Five Hundred Nigerian Poets and The International Library of Poetry, America.
