Let's go creative

Get me some water!!!
I heard my mother bellowed at me, that was all I needed to ruminate on happenings surrounding me. I picked up my clay pot and headed for the stream. The stream was a ten kilometre journey from my house; oh! How I wish the journey could last for eternity.
Children, they say are blessings from Allah, thus, they must obey every wish of their parents in order for these blessings to rain upon their family. I was born into this so called PHILOSOPHY of life. Every now and then, my parents ensure I memorise this belief thereby making it my favourite quote. I recite it every morning just as I do the Arabic. I went to primary school just like every girl in my age grade and excel greatly in my studies. Being a brilliant chap got me favoured by both my headmaster and my teachers. My parents always rejoice whenever I bring my report sheet home and it’s always a celebration galore in my home since I always come first in every class I’m in.
I noticed every time I bring my report sheet, men always come in numbers to felicitate with my father especially. I never read any meaning to this, just celebration, I thought. So it happened one day when I met Balikis, one of my childhood friend at the stream weeping profusely. I move to pacify her and inquire what the problem was. She then told me her parents want her to be married off to one Alhaji. It sounds funny because I thought marriage is just for the adults since Balikis is just a teenager who just reach her puberty stage. Balikis further explained that her parents said that she needs to be married so as to fulfil the norm and order of the community and to serve as a blessing to them. This opens my eyes and made me read meaning to the so called philosophy. Balikis then left me to whatever fate awaits her and also to reminisce on my future too.
I’m a twelve years old beautiful Fulani girl with noticeable features such as a fair skin, pencilled nose, oval face and since I just reached puberty age, my breast had just started popping out. I aspire to be a doctor and I clearly remember while growing up whenever I say this my parents are always laughing which made me believe they are happy and would support my dream. I negated all thoughts welling within me and declared my parents won’t act like Balikis’s parents. Even with that, I felt insecure since my father had only gave birth to just three kids, myself and my two brothers. My dad was a farmer while my mum sells product from my dad’s farm. We might not be rich at least we can afford three square meals per day which was a great privileged unlike Balikis’s family whose dada was a polygamist. He married three wives and had eight children in all. Balikis’s mother was the second wife and she had two children. This made me think I had better chances of not being married off sine my own family was a monogamy family and there’s no struggle for anything.
Days passed, I finished my Primary School and got a scholarship to study in a private Secondary School. I was so happy when I received news of my Scholarship from my Headmaster and danced all the way home. When I got home, I met my Father in company of his long-time friend Alhaji Sambo, discussing. I greeted them and relayed the good news to them. He was very happy and his friend gave me some cash. My Father then asked me to get inside and dress up because he had something to tell me. I went inside still happy ignorant of the news yet to be told. After changing into a nice dress, I approached my dad. He asked if I recognise the person seated beside him. I was amused at this since I had known Alhaji Sambo being my Dad’s friend since I was a kid: he always brings gift for my parents and myself especially when I come home with my report sheet. I then gave the reply that he’s my dad’s friend. My dad then corrected me that he’s my husband and has been paying my dowry since I was little.
My world stood still and I gave in to tears. My mother then explained that I had been betrothed since I was a baby and Alhaji had been taking care of me which explains his frequent gifts and visit. She said according to tradition, a girl gets married at the first instance of puberty. She said it was a thing of honour and had been going on for years. I was embittered by her words since I’ve always shared my dream of becoming a doctor to her and I know the self-acclaimed husband already had four wives. My father then said just as I have learnt that am a blessing and it is time for me to seal the blessing. I stood there dumbfounded which explains my current predicament.
Nobody told me on our first night as a married couple, I would be raped and beaten by my husband in a bid for me to obey and fear him. Nobody told me that I would be scorned by my husband’s other wives. Nobody told me I would suffer stillbirths when I get pregnant due to the inability of my body to be fully grown before experiencing this fate. Nobody told me I would suffer VVF (Vagina vertigo fistula) which would enable me to smell and be treated as a leper. Nobody told me I would be abandoned till I die.
I got to the stream drenched with tears hoping everything happening to me was just a dream. Aishat!!! I heard someone call my name and snapped to reality. I turned towards the direction where I heard my name and saw my younger brother running towards me excitedly ignorant of the what’s happening since he’s a guy and the pressure is not on them. Oh! How I wish he was coming to tell me that the marriage had been cancelled. Each step he takes towards me made my heart skip a beat. He then told me that my husband’s family is around to settle my dowry. Like a cow bought at the market and taken to the abattoir to be slaughtered for festival, my fate was sealed.

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Previously on Village Scandals

"Ah ah... it is like you want to watch these few green grasses taste the sweetness of your blood while the dried leaves sip the remnants which escape the mouths of the few green grasses ehn!" Ade said with his countenance fixed seriously at his hairy chest.
The king added to his boldness as he said: "pull the trigger you bastard, son of no man. I own you, the land and every other thing on this land. I even own your properties including the big stick down your lap." Ajiun was yet quivering at the King's back and was still bare.
"Oh, today and now everything you own you shall own no more. I am the death to take your life. Look at me very well and remember my face very correctly and let the memory scorch your soul for all eternity beneath the earth. O... have you forgotten? I am not a bastard on this land. I am Ade the first son of Jogunomi... Jogunomi... Jogunomi...oooooo, man of valour, whose thudding feet alone as he approach the forest of the ghommids the ghommids ran away on their heads crying, singing aloud 'alas, the beastie being is back...'" He raised the front sight of his sakabula up and fired the last shot "boarrrrrrrrr" remaining in it to scare the king and shattered his boldness. On hearing the shot... Ajiun who was hiding at the back of the king fell on her back and the king fell on Ajiun's chest in utter fear. The front sight of the gun was returned on his forehead this time. Ajiun began to beg as the king began to beg as well, he was quivering now. They were both reeked with dirt now and were sweating profusely and so was Ade who was standing with the gun aimed, for minutes. The scene got filled up with hoary flames from the gun… though but Ade could still see through as he was used to it.
Ade laughed boisterously and said: "So the king can beg?"
"Yes, yes... please, I am not ready to die yet please... Name anything, any land and it shall be yours, I promise." Said the king rubbing his palms against the other giving the gesture of begging.
Ade laughed boisterously the more and boasted: "I have many shots left in my gun but I will not waste them on you. With due respect, you are a useless king. You have reduced yourself to one of those Barbados at the far end of our jurisdiction who have no laws, no integrity and uncultured. I will prefer firing the rest shots at stones or flies than than to waste them on your filthy flesh. I wouldn't blame her. You must have probably promised Ajiun lands so she felt happy to live without pride to open her two legs in the bush under iroko tree for you to rule with your tiny stick."
"Aaaaaaaah, this... this insult is too much..." said silently, Ajiun.
"You were talking to me right?" asked Ade with pretence he did not overhear that.
"No no... she was praising you. That is all" responded the king.
"Hmmm... I thought as much. You can stand up and cover your shameful features with your cloths. I know what to do...."
Ade began to return to Ajewole and Mopelola on the path to the forest with the gun put  the across of his neck holding it with the two hands.

To be continued...

Jodekss

I have spent days with focus
Some without it
N' I focus on two things life has taught
The good and the bad

The life has lent me the Good time
The good time with oversize spectacule with a glass of mirror
I can see clearly in the day
Take it to the dark and see my shame
As drawn in line with my poverty

The worse period is when I water the spectacle with flexible leader woven around the nostril straw
I reaslise the longevity of the right part of the l' n' non of it

I see my self behind the civic tab in front
The giant's lab of piercing the locket of truth
Also with the key to the nugget of bigger deeds

I pitched the most difficult riddle as my first
An inkling move I thought I couldn't
I believe and weave with fate
At the end I fail my tasking, it is a failure

I know I was lured, I failed
Not my fault, the derailed minded mind
Who sits and politicise the script of the play

My fault remains on the relics I use with the foes I loath
Who perpetrate the 'behind the scene' with the derailed

I blame him not, nor she
Not anon the non
I blame my ignorance of the bad nose fellow
Who smell not but the odour of war

They wage wars like the old messiahs
Who compel with forces
And adorn with braces
Across their faces
As I fear them the ladies
Falling, serving and seething for their freebies.

Oga boss, your time is singing up up
Hallelujah of the time as passed with the holy ghost
Only a fool can be fooled twine twice.

Uthman Samad

Empty vessels, filled with noisy nothing
Who could make sense a refrigerator's airy sound as something?
Old, it gives cold
New, it gives cold
Cold is cold but the time to make cold differs
So may we sit down for confers
That it bangs around the same line because it old
A new refrigerator works discreetly till the water cold
Which one is right to live by thus let us judge, how?
It feels so right to keep the old for it is familiar now
The new seems deceiving perhaps we switch it to sleep
The old is making noise our babies cannot sleep
It is the dry season we need a working refrigerator
Without one it is over says the terminator
May be we should even use the both
May be wee need not to ascribe meanings to both
Or let us come to say perhaps
It is the best if only two things work together for us
As the night cannot do without the day
As the day the Lord has made is today
As for every summer sun
Would we have some autumn gone.

©Jodekss '15

Poem inspired by the two refrigerators we have working at home.

"At times, PRAY for DISAPPOINTMENT fervently with joy as it can lead you to ETERNAL ENLIGHTENMENT and MUCH MONIES."

"We all have PROBLEMS but not all of us have got SOLUTIONS (yet).
But for we have life, we have everything else. So we should rejoice, even when we fall and rejoice the more as we rise."

"Everybody's got a secret."

"In problems, be stronger, be happier and be much more helpful.
Pray in silence and await a loud answer."

"There's no joy in committing suicide. Let us deal with the first step first as it determines the second. It is still absurd to commit suicide but inevitable to die young or old, whether joy lies after death or not, TRUTH THEORY would argue there is no evidence to proof that yet... This is also absurd.
Everything discursive or not we do under the sun, moon, has absurdity due to human limits in knowledge."

"It is funny, ironical what scares people the most is what they can perceive but when they cannot they would be complaining around seeing is believing.
Humans are naturally CONTRADICTORY in every act."

"If I have TALENT and you are HARD WORKING, you can beat me."

"Without mincing words I need reminding us, THERE'S TIME FOR EVERYTHING.
What you are not doing now, you will never do again as would have.
Time's timeless... we need to understand this thing so that we might defeat time on time."

"Respect ME as (if) I respect YOU."

"The day you REST
you breathe the BEST."

"Today, it's occurred to me it's only those who DON'T SLEEP have good 'DREAMS'."

"Common, if you get lost in the shadows, common, carry your flag up higher with your fire burning blue higher... ya, right into tomorrow.
Common, that's the only way to break a jinx... set the darkness ablaze with your lighting fires..."

"Get what you need and give what you are given
If you're not dead yet then be living, enliven
Be believing
Nothing lasts forever, be leaving
By being believing."

"The MOST MISERABLE STORY EVER is the one SHARED without a TESTIMONY in it. We all have histories. Let 'em make you better today."

"If you do not BELIEVE IN YOURSELF nobody will BELIEVE IN YOU.
LIFE is always 'bout YOU FIRST."

"One of THE MOST DANGEROUS THINGS to do to MANKIND'S to LOOK DOWN on a WOMAN who LOOKS up to you as THE MAN.
QUOTE ME ANYWHERE!"

"I understand I don't understand and I understand I understand. "

© Jodekss

The truth is that she is not beautiful,
And I have told her so.
I had watched her through sunshades,
But it made no difference.
For although the make-up was laid as proposed,
One can only build a house on a foundation.
And this woman has none.

The mirrors had been set, then reset,
But they still could not pick her reflection.
Then she did it again and again.
And it was like adding a color to the rainbow.
So I had to tell her that she's not beautiful.
That the East and the West can never shake hands.
That what will mix with green to give olive,
Cannot be too far on the color pallet.
And in her settings, there are no options.
But she would not listen, so she now weighs more,
And one percent is from her makeup.
But she's still not beautiful.

Sincerely, she's not beautiful.
And I have told her so.
As I watched her through sunshades,
And negotiated with reality.
I had blamed the world.
But I know it's the woman,
She's not beautiful.
She's a cloudy day, when a cloudy day is depressed.
She is the beast, when the beast is beauty.
Sincerely, she's not beautiful.
And I have told her so.

So as everything else failed,
I made up to her with words.
But once in a while I still spill colours,
By telling her the truth.
It doesn't make me happy.
It doesn't make her sad.
But like climate change,
There are things not meant for politics.

I have loved her, and I still do..
But once in a while,
I make sure we are not acting.
So I tell her, she's not beautiful.
And even when I just stare, she still understands,
Because sincerely, she's not beautiful.   
            By Samson Abanni

Get one ackee blown
As poison can sweeten
Get the secrets out soon

Gun's in the hand's power
Eggs spoilt taken curse's the mood
Doom's day's in any hour
Mouth's in horror's vomit'd habitude

On vipers project
Unless evil powers be not erect
Truth's that: your peace's dissect
Hour's not ours sect.

Jodekss
©2017

It was in the midnight when utter somberness would gag the noisome wide mouths of the daylight and the clattering sing-songs the iron plates make as they pounce on the kitchen grounds in the night. Crows to them somewhere, in far distances, their dear oracles had revealed just of recent would take young horses eon years to reach, are cherished as trusted messengers. But to them here at Abule Aderibigbe, they are omens that something inconceivable was about taking place upon the roof on which it had cawed, at times upon the village over which it had cawed. Their elders in their priceless arts and wits in the course of their red eyes and reeking teeth had said that the chameleon excrete which stained your white regalia made us vex much whilst the earth beetles rolled the same with dirt into morsel with love to survive.
“The rhymes of this times are sure different. I can even feel the earth crust burning within the ambience of its round construct even beneath my flat feet” said the man as he wobbled through the dried path with the rustlings of the leaves leaving by sibilance of his passage.
It was the time of the year when the clouds, those four brothers, white wools holding the blueness of the heaven still would not fill back abysses lying between them in the looks of rifts. It was the time of the year when the misunderstanding around the faces in the skies would occupy the minds of those owning and manning the gate where rain sleeps so that it might run out and fall on them. It was the time of the year when the sun would come out pulchritudinous with queenie poses and quizzically poking gazes as she would stagger through the maps in the sky. It was the time of the year when men ooze reeking waters right from their armpits almost immediately they were out on a new day. It was the time of the year when hands might not want to close their tiny windows to rest in the night. It was the time of the year when kings would sleep right next to the sills of their tiny windows whilst their slaves do not sleep but fan them to sleep as the minions bathe under the heating hands of heat so they sweat wet as if drenched of the fall of rain. It was the time of the year when the sun would scorch the green leaves till they grow from greenness into the colour of the sun to fall for people like Ade to walk on to rustle for the airs to appreciate and make news of the time abound. Ade was a popular, good and respected famer and hunter who was always on his ways down to the farm as early as plausible. He was blessed with many children just from one wife. He was one of those men who would not listen to the items of advice that might not assist he was so stubborn. Friends and family had come to sit right next to him, even at times, to the face of his only wife, to encourage him to take in another wife. He would  not listen to that as he had his own schema which he said he would never revealed to no one, yet as per bringing in another woman to stay in his hut.
On this day, as he was on his way down to the farm as usual, with his two dogs. One is Ajewole. The wife begged him to name the second one right after the time they met. She explained she was not complete till they met for he asked why. She begged Ade after a lot of sensuous teasing in bed and off bed to let it be so. He was left with no choice but to give in. So he named the female one Mopelola. He would always remember and fear women for their powers in spite they are as fragile as chicken eggs with lighter shells. He always felt awed in the head when he had concluded right in the head, in his heart and in his mind he was not going to bend to the words of women on some specific decisions but he ended up doing their biddings with joy.
The path to the farm looked filled with emptiness as he had only met an old woman trying to gather woods for fuel by the side of the tiny route to his farm. The dogs were far at the back and he would not notice that as he was far lost in the course of the thoughts on how to harvest next on getting to the farm. It was the harsh barking of Ajewole and Mopelola that drew the fitted nicker of this consciousness right back into reality to behold act. He ran backwards with all the energies he had thinking the dogs might have seen or smelt some big antelope around or some big snake that might fetch him some good trading by barter.
“Eh… eh…eh… hey… Ajewole… Mopelola… What is it? Which animal this time? Big? Small? Long? Hairy…?” asked Ade, with a gait and impression the dogs would stop to bark and would give responses.
The dogs barking began to drop in pitch as they had seen their owner around to handle the matter. Mopelola was the best when it comes to not giving up its stance facing the right direction the entity in question went for Ade to chase. Ajewole had already left smelling other paths of the bush around and was seen stooped and relieving his bowels.
“Alright, alright… I understand Mopelola. I understand. It went that way right? I grasp! It is alright. You can wait for me here” said Ade as he dashed roughly into the bushy side on the right side of the tiny path to his farm to have a look at the beast they have seen not that far enough from the village.
The ways they have barked were unusual. He was worried, maybe it was another wild cobra they smelt or so. He began to be stealthy with each pace he took so the rustling of the leaves and crackling of the dried straws and sticks would not make him lose that one shot he had left in the gun right across his back. As he approached, he would take some steps calculatedly and halt to hear or see the beast or whatever it was rustles the leaves on the ground, crack the straws or the dried sticks on the ground. He heard nothing. He walked a bit further around the more continuing in the selfsame approach and suddenly, he began to overhear the ground rustle, the straws breaking and the dried sticks on the ground were all reacting together simultaneously and consistently. He wondered what sort of beast it would be. He was a bit fidgety as he was trying in spite to bring to the fore, the gun lying right across his back gently to take the one shot left. He raised the gun up to his right eye targeting assiduously what he had not seen well. His right hand forefinger was already wet lying across the trigger and his paces were more meticulous than before to the extent that he was like a filoplume feather, landing on a calabash of water. He paused fixatively to use his ears well then. Then, he began to over-hear sensuous sounds. They were emitting from the other side of the bushy wall. The rustling continued to increase and the noise she was making was not of pain but of enjoyment. He thrust back the gun gently to his back and approached much more carefully as he could see their clothes right on one side next to the root of an iroko tree. He hopped gently to have a clear view. He had a clear view as he peeped through the holes in the thick wall.
“Yeh, ah… ah… Kabiyesi... Ajiun… So, you are the beasts I have been chasing ehn!” exclaimed and shrieked Ade.
The two of them as bare as they were rose from lying on the king’s regalia as if they have both seen a famished lion needing to feast. They shook uncontrollably. Ajiun ran to the back of the king, still bare. Ade had already re-collected his gun from his back back to the front, in his hands was positioned for a close shot.
The king then summoned courage and said: “would you dare shoot your king? Have you all of a sudden forgotten who I am? My powers…! Have you forgotten the old adage that the king kings over everything? The gods would haunt you till you die a miserable death if you shoot.”
“Rubbish… That would be after I have killed you first…” said vexatiously, Ade.
“O, okay do it…” said the king as he moved closer and put his hairy chest to the front sight of the gun boldly.

TO BE CONTINUED….

The Journal of a Pengician (Review) 

By Uthman Samad o. 

The Journal of a Pengician by Jodekss Gloatkenf can be considered as that which projects and revolves around the day to day activities of the writer. The life and span of its documentation is one good and rough year; it ranges from Nov. 24th, 2015 – 2016.

The writer uses the prosaic of 208 pages, embellishing different topics and themes which balances majorly on the purview of the life of Nigerian students, their encounter in the world of learning, the state of the nation, appreciation of the creator, love, amongst numerous topics of huge motif as background. This poem can be perceived as a thought-provoking piece of literary work that sounds like an anthem of the modern generation of seekers.

"Literary artists or several authors have published diaries before but trust me, not this kind of diary or journal. The Journal of a Pengician is the first of its kind yes, in the sense that it has never happened before in this author’s own way exactly, in the use of linguistic outpour to pass across messages to the reader(s) through the real life happenings with the author and those around him in every ramification that long and that simplex…"(Jodekss, 2017)

The title of this poem is rather not shocking, but encompassing and cultivates a sense of enthusiasm in the reader to search for the understanding. It has connotational entailment and what essentially the author is talking about. Jodekss’ creativity in this piece of work remains outstanding, as it leaves the reader anxious to understand who exactly the ‘Pengicians’ are.  The poet employs a wide usage of biblical allusions, metaphors, similes, personifications, hyperboles, and other poetic devices including alliteration which make this work colourful and engaging.

According to the author of the book, our greatest fear is not based on our inadequacies but rather on our powerfulness beyond measure as human mind is a lump which can be truncated easily to either negative of positive path of life. He describes evilness in human as a Chameleon that acclimatise to any environment easily.

“The minds of the evil are said to be so very dark for a reason

The heart of some man is so black that you will see it so white 

See at night everything is faked up leaving us be shite

We wobble dazed up like a mad woman chasing nothing, shrieking it nut…”

The piece is a reflection of the human nature in the sense that it reflects the weaknesses of people of failing to explore their potentials. As shown, people are able to overcome this fear by maximizing their potentials. By so doing, they are not only able to liberate themselves, but also liberate others.

The context gives an incredible depth of wisdom which may be unavailable elsewhere. The text is powerful and insightful in its totality. The figurative mediums utilised in verses are powerful as they provoke people to think and act big for the service of the world and others as in that lies the projection of love which conquers all. The poet does not obviate the theme of 'love' which didactically and amorously give picturesque imagery. 

“Be for some purpose I would lie less

So I swear, I love god godly girls.

Love to lie on one to play chess.

With n' Mary her till my rhymes rot to run

Till the sun n' moon n' the star stop to turn

Till to tell you I have long lost my lying part 

Thus I wrote one Belle one amorous lines that 

"Give me all of you've got lie on this lying mat

Muji, these idle parts-breast KS bulbous but you resist my hands to feel they waste.

Let's love lest death walks in then they all waste

Let's love lest death walks in then they all waste and that is dearth.

We vanish as time does his thing, keeping on pushing forwards not caring let's do it

You know love is wicked, it is killing, am dying, death is choking, keep me living, putting off your tight clothing…”

Addressing the state of the nation, the personae categorised the citizen into the upper, middle and lower classes. The poet’s Nigerian society is not egalitarian. We have the rich and the poor. In such a society, there is always a chasm between the poor and the rich. On a universal scale, the privileged and the underprivileged have no meeting point where the upper class enjoy basic amenities and all the mesmerizing goodies in life and the lower beings (the poor) live at the expense and dictate of the rich. The young prolific writer also associates the exacerbating nature of the Nigerian economy at the detriment of the poor to the obnoxious take of the elected representatives at the Senate.  He surfaces with it is reel of thoughtful lines to make the reader(s) figure how epileptic the amenities provided is, he writes thus, 

“N’ this is has the conundrum common with our state 

Petroleum we claim we have was hiked during the house debate

All the refineries run in a rotten state 

Electricity has fallen N' no oil to light our date we hide under the veil there would be enough to bail 

So our big brothers loot billions in bags with their fat tummies 

Within their whitish regalia with lists of lies to reel us dummies…”

Being a diary, much should not be expected of the author than the use of first person singular narrative (technique) view on every of the events. This use of first-person narrative to show that the real author -speaker is a direct participant in the events highlighted in the poem and makes it touching with the effective use of figurative expressions especially metaphors, alliteration  and pun. The poet for example many pages of the diary to play on words. 

"There wouldn't even be nothing but nothing that could only be called nothing or that could be said to be some something 

N' those arouse with kempt quiet voice past the Eiffel  Tower in this path' Paris, past the peak skies this path's could pay her young's  toward n' make pun with such path. 

We know not what we need to know n' that we know that we know is not known to be known where all knowledge being formed to get known n' not to get known are not get known…".

2018 Commonwealth Short Story Prize

Open for entry 1 September – 1 November 2017

It was on a Monday morning, she got up after series of sleepless nights and the late hour nightmares, and she went into the bathroom and cleaned up. She got back into her room, picked up her small phone, checked through her call log and dialled the number she vowed never to save on her phone again, the time was 6:20am.
His voice was huskier than before and on his end he said “hello babe”, she froze a moment trying to come out of the trance his voice left her. “Hey wusup, did I wake you?”  She said just to cover up her speechlessness. “Yes, your call woke me hope you're good?”  he asked concerned. “yeah I am, just needed to let you know I’m leaving home now, come downstairs and pick me in 3 minutes time” she dropped the call afterwards, went back in and told her mother she wanted to have an early morning walk-out to relieve her tummy of the rumble noises that filled them up. She left the house in a black light hood over her fitted blue jean skirt; it was 6:27am.
A call on her phone, it was Abiodun, she picked up the call and told him she was almost at his gate, at that instance they both became visible she waved at him and dropped the call instantly. She got into the gate and went straight up to his apartment; the time was 6:34am.
“All right, so you said we needed to talk and here I am, shall we begin?” she said this avoiding his eye contact, the same feeling the voice triggers is the same feeling his eyes hold but she was too late. She sank into the bed still trying to rub off her eyes off sleep, when he said “I missed you and I felt we could talk”. “We sure have a lot to talk about like you know” she replied. She kept asking series of questions as long as her mind could carry her while she hopes another question pops up right before she finishes her last. He moved closer while she was talking and gave her a gentle kiss that blew off her mind and thorn her flesh apart, she enjoyed it but never showed she did, she wanted to be safe but isn’t this the guys’ den where anything can happen? “gosh what led me to this” she thought aloud, but it was too late. Little by little, in pieces and thorn, in crying and beseeching, in swearing and fulfilling he pulled off her fitted jean and slowly her colourful pink pant followed, this time she cried at the shame, at the reproach she brought herself, she resisted him, but his power outweighed hers. They both continued in this for some minutes and like a flood he tried to put his manhood into her vagina, but it would not dance to his tune, at last he asked, “when last did you have sex?” out of breath she replied “never” but what was the use he never believed though, or maybe he did he just wanted to try his luck. He ran out of breath also and persuaded her to let him go gently, he wasn’t going to crush the wall and he wasn’t going to hurt her, in promising he released out the liquid in him on his bed and allowed her leave. In shame, she got up immediately, sat up in bed and wore her pant gently as they were pulled off, she had no strength of resisting, he knew her now, not as a woman but as no one ever knew her; it was 7:04am.
She loved him and still never felt to harbour this against him, but she vowed never to enter the compound that harbours her secret again, perhaps the past is best lived through when left behind in lessons with a stronger heart. Her phone rang and it was her mother, a chill ran through her spine and she felt she knew everything already yet she managed to pick “where are you” she said still in her motherly tone, like nothing ever happened she replied and said “I’m almost at the gate”.
The pain would not cease to flow through her vagina and through her lower abdomen and when she put a call through to him; in pain and groaning, all he muttered was “ I didn’t pull through, it never got in, there was no penetration.”

Bats were chirping quiet loudly in the air that midnight. The silence that moment had had the semblance like none before. Not even one sound could be recorded I could remember very well; everything was as dead as the cold hands of death himself. Except for the chirping of the those bad birds whose verses I averse so very well. And the continuous shout help help help that coupled the whir of the birds. It was the tone of Suwa, Fijy's mother, who was as old as the worst tattered rag one could ever picture.
Fijy had all ready woken and the shout which continued was not a great shock to him, in spite it was in the midnight, so he sped down like a squirrel treated for maniacal plight to the area the shout was coming from to know what was going on.
''Fijy, Fijy, Fijy. It was..., It was... Ah... Ah... Ah...'' Suwa said crying, gasping and quivering right in her room.
She was in the rest room where people rest of cause. The bedsheet, for covering the bed of cause, had fallen and the bed had shifted from its face to the back part. The stool, which receives food to be taken of cause, and all that that stood before the midnight had turned opposite. Even the pictures that were hung in the room had fallen again. The good food she was served she would not eat had developed maggots overnight again. Still screaming right on top of her loud voice, she was crying alongside with tear glands flocking up the floor of the room like the great ocean we were told in the tales. She was seated at the tip of the bed and it was the coming in of Fijy into the scene that quieted her.
Fijy entered and was aggravated and saddened to the core in the heart. His countenance dropped having seen what the well set room had turned to again, weariness was what took him up next with its painful tusks, for that night was not her first night to scream right in the mid of the night since her arrival from the village.
''Mama, is it your usual dream again or something else this time?'' Fijy asked mellowly putting on the light from the switch at the entrance into the room. Suwa would not talk again, in the stead of telling her son what went wrong she went into her sleeping position with her back facing the face of the bed. Fijy left the room confused again for her mother would not tell him what she saw in her dreams that would always make her scream almost midnightly. He was so very tired of neighbours asking him questions he has no answers to when the day breaks, about the causes of the screaming from his house. All he would always do was to lie that it was his mother who has mental problem. He loves Suwa a lot no doubt about that, even the intervention of his wife to send her back to the village would not make him do that.
In the following morny, the nightguards that watch over their streets came to pay him a visit.
''Dr. Fijy, we have been contemplating whether to come over here to come and ask you why someone would always make a disturbing noise in your building for long. So yesterday we agreed to'' their leader said. One of them added, '' sir, am one of the nightguards that watch over your affairs besides God when you have gone to the bed to sleep, the kind of noise that person makes would always make wake us up thinking may be thieves are on raid again. We have come really to urge you to tell that person to stop it, it is not helping, it disturbs and diverts attention, you are well read, am sure you would understand us''.
After three days, the same thing repeated itself at the same time it did the last time. The next Saturday even was the day and time scheduled for the estate meeting that happens twice in two months, the issue was what was discussed on through out the meeting. Suwa lied that it was his mother who was mentally ill that would always make the disturbing noise. The street elders then urged him to take her to the appropriate hospital for appropriate care, they made him aware they live in estate filled with persons of affluence, who have businesses they think about all day and the night's only when they rest but now his mother is denying them that. He promised he would do something soon and the meeting came to a close.
Suwa bought a local daily paper, a week after the meeting held, it had it that some pinchers were caught around Visuwo Street, Bopruz Avenue, Degi Area Ilumodun State and have been jailed for the assassination of Mr Plater, a white man, who  had come to invest in the country. Their pictures were at the front page of the paper, the max. were enough even for blind persons to see and identify.
Out of disgust, Fijy soliloquised ''where exactly are we going to in this country?'' ''What's happened again my son?'' Suwa asked. Fijy picked up the paper n' showed his mother, ''see, these young men killed this whiteman who've come to come and help this country up''. ''Ah Ah Ah, my son this is a good news, this is the reason I make noise usually in the midnight''. ''What?'' Fijy asked confusedly.

Jodekss Gloatkenf
©2015

she grows with groans,
of what septuagenarian long fit
did to her throat.

no one listens to her,
not even me seems to see,
her frail, tiny cries- under torture,
of riddles an aged man drops
into the silence of a girl's mind.

we are all deaf,
to the silence-noise of guilt
that lure into the treasure,
of seven years old, a girl
where baba gets gift of pleasure.

one day,
that girl will grow
and throw off shackles,
boil and braid to be her mind.
one day
that girl will grow
and raise a nation,
on her fragile but built laps.

one day, a girlchild will garner
her heart and build a world
on her hands that weaves now
on her head that hawks now
with her stolen face, under a
broken night.
at her feet, we will call growth,
a god.

Oluwaseun Shedrack Akodu

International day of girlchild.

Ars Poetica is a poem that explains the “art of poetry,” or a medidation on poetry using the form and techniques of a poem. Horace’s Ars Poeticais an early example, and the foundation for the tradition. While Horace writes of the importance of delighting andinstructing audiences, modernistars poeticapoets argue that poems should be written for their own sake, as art for the sake of art. Archibald MacLeish’s famous “ Ars Poetica” sums up the argument: “A poem should not mean / But be.” See also Alexander Pope’s “ An Essay  on Criticism,” William Wordsworth’s Prelude,and Wallace Stevens’s “ Of Modern Poetry.”

Picking up a pen seems a peeling swerve past seas of thorns
Compare, write a ''the sixth sick seat seeks Sthyxth's silks'' fetches abuseful returns
Let alone have it on as so, through out weaving some epic
Lines filled - empathy so, to ''tamat'' to something - a poor ethic
To balance the rhythm runs merits a special - supra calling
That kind that Alexandra Pope perhaps knew in musing
To do it, that down and down till the period crowns
Then the pseudonym be bellowed below besides three seated, dotted fans
The rest is left for right, to spot the errs - comes la critics call.
Most of them should lonely lack a curtain call
They could come kinkily within and without in their rubbish reddish robes
Feeling king-ful in the ken, ''we know it all bring their works''!
''These ones are wrong, change them and never complain''
Too tired ''take care kerchief and blow the errors off the nose''; such disdain
Packs of poohs in erudite gores for glory
Costly coxcombs, brood of vipers that cannot write one short story
Pieces by jagua fleeced with jugular joints
Judges that need cheerful chastise on their privy points.
They have forgotten the traditions so
Thanks to Pope for his criticisms o!
The tuberculosis thing really did a pain in the bone
He pinpointed the sayings of Aristotle that laid out the first stone:
Write and never feel bad about it
No one comes before the muse to lose it
Critically - gaunt the works for ages if time permits so
Garner yourselves to infer well like parks of positive hermits go
Come together not for condemnation and condescending we have in my very varsity yo
By the rubbishes in the bins, recall us goodly goods so.
Creativity is crying seeing critics killing using sickly savvy
Such shrewdness is deadly, past pens pine unhappy
The default lies fine in the lines lining in their fluffy havoc faces
Stitch your loose ends first makers of murderous cases
Souls lacking spirit is as good as the body in the shroud
In records now be bodies in dirt losing lots aloud...

TO BE CONTINUED.

Jodekss.

Cuss is when thy thunderous stick seekin' P's
Openings is encased for a scrotum for broken bottles
So as you penis prides 'bout the streets' T's
Junctions seeking chicks' legs n' their cheap laps' centre keeps
You cry 'bout yeh, yeh, I'll no more use my hands to tease
Be careful Ps
Be more careful Vs.
Jodekss
©2017

Poets in Nigeria (PIN) in partnership with Festival Poetry Foundation (FPF) is pleased to announce the inaugural edition of Ken Egbas Prize for Festival Poetry Calabar. Sponsored by an art enthusiast and a Former Special Adviser, Strategic Planning at Cross River State – Mr. Ken Egbas; the prize is geared towards promoting cultural heritage, black pride and environmental consciousness.

The initiative, an offshoot of the annually organized Festival Poetry Calabar, was launched in Calabar 2016 via an address delivered by Ken Egbas who was visibly impressed by the contents of the festival (within the Calabar International Carnival). The prize will run uninterruptedly for a period of 5 years with a total budget of ₦500,000.

REWARD
Authors of selected entries will be awarded cash prizes in this order:
• 1st Prize Winner: ₦40,000
• 2nd Prize Winner: ₦20,000
• 3rd Prize Winner: ₦10,000

ELIGIBILITY
• Must be a Nigerian poet resident in Nigeria
• Must be between 12 and 30 years of age

GUIDELINES
• Entries must revolve around cultural heritage, black pride and environmental consciousness.
• An entrant is entitled to a single entry of limitless word count.
• Submissions must be original, intellectual property of the entrants.
• Under no condition will the judges’ decision be challenged.
• Previously published works (on social media, blogs and anthologies) are NOT allowed.
• Selected entrants must be present in Calabar to receive their cash prizes.
• Submissions including your name, location, biography and contact details should be in the body of the mail.
• Entering for the contest gives us automatic rights to make use of your works as deemed appropriate.
• Forward your entries to festivalpoetryprize@gmail.com.

DEADLINE: 10th November, 2017; 11:59 PM

ABOUT THE SPONSOR
Dr. Ken Egbas is an alumnus of Federal Government College, Kaduna, University of Calabar and University of Nigeria, Nsukka. An expert in Public Relations and Corporate Social Responsibility, Ken is the Founder and CEO of TruContact CSR Nigeria & WhiteHouse PR Synergy. Also, he is the organizer of The SERAs, arguably Nigeria’s biggest corporate award for Corporate Social Responsibility, Sustainability and Good Corporate Citizenship. Ken publishes Nigeria Social Enterprise Report – a publication on social responsibility and sustainability which is circulated around Africa, United Kingdom and USA.

Ken hails from Ofodua, Adun in Obubra Local Government Area of Cross River State where he once served as a Special Adviser, Strategic Planning.
________________________________________

For further enquiries, contact the moderator – 07034847164.

Kolade Olanrewaju Freedom
For: PIN & FPF

Minimie:
All days with 'em and their promising rays and quite guises in pretence and before Jack Robinson is done shots and for checking the white clouds of the firmament taken charge in naught for might and light to cuddle the atmosphere blurry and thick to point in the wee the clouds stealth in bounds or so.
The last sip you had marked the last grace your earth shall use
Keep your things when in lots in store house, would help reduce
Cut the art to feed on nails and their putrid black bits should the judgment day
Pass the path to posit, past the mercy shores in time to appear, should green he gray
Save the stupid as so very kind at as the relaxing Nile-rine
A stitch in the tick-tock time they indeed inferred, saved nine.
Now, Fato, how further apart this hour I beseech?
My spirit need to know the earth this day to be blunt, he feels the water at times even does screech.
Original:
They said lots of praises, items of reward, thumps of clap hands and dried valleys to the quizzing gaze - quizzical pastures improve lacking which are disappointing worth for he whose, today, today's sentential remarks be not as prolix as yours as mine, pause. Brevity with lots of periods is welcome now. Like as it used to be put on heavy tall wide-mouthed black cotton for fashion has reverted to tips and slim-fittings today is appreciated. Off course, of cause. Life and irrelevances, as they come across beneath hourly overtaking man's schedule as certainly choice be not ours so.
Fato is dosing as the fixed water up the sky is preparing to be altruistic to fall
We on top, perhaps even at the mercy of the lots of water gummed this unstable foamy tall
Inseparably discharged in pretence as one they chose and be apart in millions of miles to read
Yet much more pelting of rain, pushes this sea tide to make us bleed
And the destination designed us from home before we left the street
Runs out of chance into mishap for us to be bulgy, packed stacked around the sea's feet
Forgo how further pestering one to come on and reply
Pray for journey success, then tomorrow shall you come again to apply.
Minimie:
Every paddle in this canoe to count amount for trio. I am one as you are but the last takes life for fun and thus rests as the tides begin to show their usual craze.
Even if life be the bed of roses, you have got to take your time to make the bed, cut the roses, lay the bed in the attained apartment and dress the dress, roses in the bed and insure the looks of other interior materials installed and rest on the seventh day, at the ninth time. Only nothing comes for free even if only nothing too implies nought in the dictionary. And sorry, I can't do short statements bloke. A man has got to develop his dignity dressing it all, all around a specific ground. The ground may be glare, may be gore; madness rests in us all.
Did we leave without compass?
It is just over there we would be done with the canoe, we argued
Our first time experience on the sea, none here knows how to change the directional class
Whether to that North, hot we go nay. Or to that South, cozy we paddle
We cannot tell and the sea does not tell for the beast of the East
For the arrogance of our West's OBJective, has put us bemused understood?
As young as we be yet would not decide which part sanity pass
And the decisions of the rags we tried to avoid, sets our feet drowning with the sea's dictatorial handle
Have time not circled us one tricycle but twain-legged chased by dearth on his fast fisting feet.
Original:
Should boredom have an instance in human unit, one of us not yet resting and not me, certainly shall be hailed for such. Whining remarks need is not needed but we need an aright stance where feet is not allowed. There is nothing even like feet and even hope has lost the virtue he so much cherishes to go pompous about with. Take a nap and shall I not roll rowing this canoe ashore before you come back from death! May the life we left by and the life so sweet we feed on now cuddle and wrap me with shroud millions of milestones and cast me o'er for the sea to see.
We would have to wake Waggy the fakest of us all, though
We both have contributed of some proceeds remarkable so
He lacks in all, even she adds a lot of beauty than how beautiful he would e'er be
A pat on his feet should grace that done
Should we use our hands or his idle paddle could be
Or aye, the water is cold, the one in shoes feels hot
Shall we pour the cold on his peaceful face and his light feet for last resort got?
Waggy:
It is all mirage to behold and define like the facade a thorny flower would shower shimmering from range. We are as further as ever as being at the middle of this sea you would believe not to condemn, I am real. I am Faker and not Waggy which you tagged me which nudged my consciousness to being with you and you and with her. Name is powerful. It is a tag death with all his long acclaimed fame and spiritual worth can not only not tamper with but also, you would see him pampering it big as though it'd save him a grace with the paradise lost to him since in the beginning... I, Faker could make it to your shores as desired as long as the firmament remains under my feet, aye, I can.
Have you two not being within your utter pretence we are brotherly enough?
You and you have committed treble terrible errors by that alone but in connotation of
The liberty to term be yours as it be mine to too and to explain
You were found in dirt, gummed in bits with muds beyond my Coast plain
Would care to carry. I lifted you once here but rested listening to you as possibly you tried to plan
I am the Faker and all canoes are mine and by my 'go', always had I 'em ran
In the time past, with you and the rainstorms that shall trample us piercing us apart
Albeit, one bartender shall serve you wine and your own, for the morrow, shall be a busy cart.
Minimie:
Oh! How sour further would I learn this day I inquire? Confusion all this be, not just there ordinarily but damn deeply severe. One planned to task to paddle like us in the roll planned had preplanned my future in his rest time. How ludicrous, shall, this, go, tell us? Oh, tell us, come tell us you dark clouds with your pretentious faces!
Take the paddle and enjoin
We need earth and feeds and some coin
Non-salty water, warm enough to cool the oesophagus
Good bed to groan some Z... and better belles looking not at all a bit gross.
O! Where, rest my sucks?
I have missed much of the morning shows put to charge - oh, my darling ducks!
Original:
He is no Waggy. That he had told. We called him one more name, check the signs atop. All things showcase pretence and would later appear deceit can be richer than the whole truth yay. It could be we have lost it to come back to senses, and the names we tagged on ourselves, just the rightly needed opposite of the whole truth from the start to this finish.
Paddle on paddle in my Minimie
Put a charge of stop to whining crying, ah mummy me...
Wake up and be valuable like the salt is in the care of soup
As a bottle of beer would be virtuous to the drunks as they bring up n' stoop.

Jodekss

©2014

"We live keeping repute, keeping it or not keeping it: we die, it lives on or dies on."

"Every universe there is shall be beneath our feet my queen."

"Anything easy can be hard.
Patience is the only theory which
Can see through the two."

"You'd never get anywhere in the world if you give up so easily."

"The opposite of love is not hate but indifference from choice."

"Everyday as my old lineation still alive needing revival though
Already somehow realis within, I feel marble-some immortal so
would we resolve n' say such my gay's a grandiose pose
Or I'm enough within the cases of fate's fares throwing the right dose?"

"We'd lived through today yesterday and we might live through today tomorrow."

"Life doesn't necessarily mean death. Love truly is the key to enlightenment."

"Trust me, at times, it's okay to ask for help."

"Be happy, be optimistic and never let anything spoil your joy --be joyful, no matter what. Never let pessimism corrupt your thankfulness."

"Well no mistakes made everything's happened accordingly as pre-planned ahead!
Nothing's inexact exactly - you'd know dunghills give life to maggots kind."

"Only those who INVEST, INFEST, INGEST the wealth of this nation."

"I am only as mad as the 'maker' who made me!"

"There's more to everyone, to everything."

"Well, whatever you want do do it well."

"Look, you are not my friend my friend if and only if you are not my friend my friend."

"Life's coming in to its spindly verity for fairytale in
big books we'd reel as lost to hell or paradise's we win."

--
Jodekss Gloatkenf

Nefelibata

The witches - those worthless wenches
Drenching the arid wet with wetting the drenched dried up ways:
They meet at night for some reason
Bedevil at night for some reason
Kill and inflict affection, affectionately perhaps via sunny nightmares
Dying direly dreams
Laugh beneath the behind of the back of the bark of the big butts of the seen butts of some hidden arborary tree for some something - reason
Treason!
The clap-clap churches; Keu-keu kinds- the bad eggs amid 'em do deceit
Preaching preachers preaching peeping peoples' pockets to pick with pow'r
Inquire,
They'd long-list lists; least reasons;
Their good eggs do gaunt to hills
Mounts, supplicate solidly - sweat sweet sweat praying; praying to pray
Delivering
Settling familiar issued issues
Or afraid of being a big bait or Belzebub's prey;
That, for some reason.
Thieves with their killer sticks' preter-patter and peter boom-boom bombs - beans balls and big burnt boo
Too
Rush, very ably, conscious, angrily calm and aptly stilthy
Packs the bags flap-flap, shootin' all in blind
They did theirs on some ground - reason.
Governors govern - waggle plenitude promises with fucated fake smiles
Then they go glutton for paper lucre
The pensioneers' props and the masses money
In some one lonely sack then the clangings, clapings of golden cups
With chiefly whiteman's wine winning same to the brim
Laughs like bar flies do
We'll run again
They are voting us in again,
Theirs for some reason.

Every faculty of life with its weltanschauung to merit it make sense
So even a madman marching in rail lines has reasons for doing so
At times you find it hard to blame
When or when no reasons fill up the floor
We should blame
We shouldn't blame
Should we blame?
On what faculty is that?
Nay, havin' no philosophy's being philosophic
How can we escape all that is meant catch us from now
From now what is meant to be is what is:
Every summer sun
Every winter even
Every spring to come
Every autumn leaving
Don't need a reason
Let it go on and on.

Mo meliorism...

Forgive n' forgo what was
Value n' accept what is
Aspire for the morrow and pro-bliss;
Doing good was ne'er bad
That is a philosophy too
Being bad is also good but too bad, good...?

We won't escape all that's meant to be
Yo, we won't
Can't...

Jodekss

The witches - those worthless wenches
Drenching the arid wet with wetting the drenched dried up ways:
They meet at night for some reason
Bedevil at night for some reason
Kill and inflict affection, affectionately perhaps via sunny nightmares
Dying direly dreams
Laugh beneath the behind of the back of the bark of the big butts of the seen butts of some hidden arborary tree for some something - reason
Treason!
The clap-clap churches; Keu-keu kinds- the bad eggs amid 'em do deceit
Preaching preachers preaching peeping peoples' pockets to pick with pow'r
Inquire,
They'd long-list lists; least reasons;
Their good eggs do gaunt to hills
Mounts, supplicate solidly - sweat sweet sweat praying; praying to pray
Delivering
Settling familiar issued issues
Or afraid of being a big bait or Belzebub's prey;
That, for some reason.
Thieves with their killer sticks' preter-patter and peter boom-boom bombs - beans balls and big burnt boo
Too
Rush, very ably, conscious, angrily calm and aptly stilthy
Packs the bags flap-flap, shootin' all in blind
They did theirs on some ground - reason.
Governors govern - waggle plenitude promises with fucated fake smiles
Then they go glutton for paper lucre
The pensioneers' props and the masses money
In some one lonely sack then the clangings, clapings of golden cups
With chiefly whiteman's wine winning same to the brim
Laughs like bar flies do
We'll run again
They are voting us in again,
Theirs for some reason.

Every faculty of life with its weltanschauung to merit it make sense
So even a madman marching in rail lines has reasons for doing so
At times you find it hard to blame
When or when no reasons fill up the floor
We should blame
We shouldn't blame
Should we blame?
On what faculty is that?
Nay, havin' no philosophy's being philosophic
How can we escape all that is meant catch us from now
From now what is meant to be is what is:
Every summer sun
Every winter even
Every spring to come
Every autumn leaving
Don't need a reason
Let it go on and on.

Mo meliorism...

Forgive n' forgo what was
Value n' accept what is
Aspire for the morrow and pro-bliss;
Doing good was ne'er bad
That is a philosophy too
Being bad is also good but too bad, good...?

We won't escape all that's meant to be
Yo, we won't
Can't...

Jodekss

Bi beeko bamigba bi baba ti fe bi bibeli ti ba
Ani opo ope loye enu omo eniyan toku iseju aaya fun lati di pipa
Abi kini irufe okan to tidi oun igbagbe yio se, so funmi
Odaju awon ti o ti ta teru nipa ti n pamopo pelu paapaa lati gbe baba ga
Pelu amon tele pe ise asekara lori ason ni eyi
Ani ki a dupe lowo owo to n bo ni lati rewerewe ti i di aako yi
Si ara waju ni osan didun ti a muu muu mu titi ti a fungbe lati fisile
Si ara eyin to gbo gidigidi ewuro oko pelu opolopo kikoro sibe pelu adun leyin
Eyi ti a je lati yadanu sibe
Si ara oke - agbo lati mara le sibe yio sise tan oun toye ko teyin igbin yio si fara han
Ah e, ewo o opo oun imo ni a saa tikoyin si ninu aimo!
Iha aramo
Ifireni sinu ide aye nitori ife oun ti o lo lailai
Aye felo bi afefe se n fe fii fii faa faa yii yii
Oun fi wa sile lookokan ejeeji  osin diku diedie afefe
Sibe an padi apopo lati se aye bi ose wu wa
Botiwu kope to sora, oun ti a o mo igba ati a gba ma di oun ti a o fisile funra wa
Igba o lobi orere ore, ojokan loun ti a nyin ma doun a ko rimo rara.

Jodekss

©2015

...BUT if you will not regard my laws and me as your God
But praise the stone, the wooden woman or your Gourde
Then marvelous curses shall your shoulders bear as heavy as milestones
I mean even as heavy as even Everests, wore in trillions of turns of thorns
At each edges with pins and broken bottles and cracked shells and cactus plants
For ribbon around 'em necks on your shoulders
And you shall cry, blubber, screech like the fettered bat whose arms and legs
Are pierced peacefully so that it might feel the pains bit by bit
Whilst its ravenous teeth which be as yours which you use to bite kola on your, even stone,  wooden gods
I shall break, pull out with your ridges alongside and your blood which ought be red
Shall become black as I have said
And these black bloods I shall cause to sprinkle
No, not in the night but in the morn and they shall curse your
Morn to mourn and be blacker than the usual even
And your even I shall change from darkness with the moon up and the stars gracing its gearings to a big boil n' darts
Of alien poisons and these poisons on these darts
Shall fall from heaven with wicked worms to hit, will hit you and heat your sons
And daughters and your relative and familiar ones one's
And your seedlings and seeds and plants
And they, though ripe before and doing fine, shall turn yellowishly red
And bear mighty maggots as tall as the seventh heaven and as stupendous as the galaxies
Wherever they may be, your flocks, though, they were as chubby and beautiful to the eyes as the eighth wonders of the world
They shall become lean lengthy as naught as nothingness be
And as you cry the more for all of these shall I even vex the more, increase your sorrows by zillions folds
For then even your pregnancies shall stop to grow and they shall reverse back backwards returned down till
They perish with your wombs and every other lung in your systems
And your husbands and husbands-to-be shall I turn into zombies
Wobbling in utter starvation for feed and
They shall not find
They shall find
They shall find worms, maggots, shameful millipedes, centipedes, deadly insects
And bunt filth, bunt and or decaying shits and they
Shall sha take them up rejoicing and as they do I shall sha curse
Their sons and daughters hiding to avoid my wrath to escape into their captivity
And they shall hunt and haunt them down as I have allowed you to hunt rats in your houses
And smash the heads of cockroaches without a remark from me
And they will round them up and cut them with bare hands into shred and feed on them as sweet meats
And even the bones and spines of those to pick their disgusting teeth
For you have chosen not to fear me your God
I shall make your inheritances and legacies to run out into aught
And force your arrogant and sinful eyes out of their broken sockets
To bear the witness of your props as I direct the shield causing my Sun not to kill you
To walk away and bring, even the same Sun down to your scalps
To scorch your properties to pebbles and
Is it not out of love and my Fatherly care I have given you oxygen to be?
These be my doings and for you have proven stubborn
I shall make the earth to take in the good gas
And make it to give you the good gas to gas
Only when you have cried bloods that would fill the Mediterranean sea
And all these for you have rejected my commandments for gods that cannot see.

Jodekss
©2016

"There's language in her eye, her
cheek, her lip,
Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton
spirits look out
At every joint and motive of her
body."
-- Shakespeare's.

"And her absence resounds her presence
All my thoughts, she can reel miles afar off
My heart beats she can count by hers
She can pinch my words
Just like she's my mind.

[Nay, seated in a site
Where there's light
Six lights
Glimmering white, calling flies
Termites - eatables
In dire dear disguises
Vicky view this;
Their thousands clinging unto what they all heart
But none could climb up those lights' hats
They all end up down
Then they peel off their paired wings
Clinging mates perphaps for mate
Hide-out or perphaps back to the earth.]

Oops! Glimpsed
Where was I William Wordsworth?
I truely love the lass I told cannot do without
Cos I can't
Amid all she'd always stand out
Night!"

Jodekss