(for the city that devours its own) In the court of the one-eyed king, the scribes bend their spines like wilted reeds, etching lies in the wind. Who will count the stolen moons? Who will measure the grain of the enpoored spilled beneath gold-tipped boots? The horn is cracked, the drum chokes on silence, and the river no longer…
They stand at the grave, these men with fat stomachs, these men who once spat on his name, now singing praises with trembling lips! They beat the drums—boom, boom, boom— calling him the great one, the one who walked with the ancestors, the one who never stumbled! Oh, my people! Where was this greatness when he walked barefoot in…
And the gong beats thrice, for the one who walks beyond the river. Once, he was shadow, Once, he was storm— but now, a hymn in the mouth of mourners, a carved mask of old proverbs. The scribes gather at the crossroads, sifting dust, refining echoes, the past laid out like palm fronds, stripped of the wormwood and the…
The elders tell of a talking drum, Beaten by hands, yet leading the dance. They say, “The man is the drummer of the home, His hands must shape the rhythm of life.” But oh, the calabash whispers another tale, For when the river runs wild and deep, The drum is handed to him—“Decide, O man, you lead!” Yet when…
By Ebhohon Majekodunmi Oseriemen He who would climb the tallest palm, must shut his ears to fearful tongues. For those below will cry, “Come down!” but the sweetest fruit is never found aground.
She sits beside him, her fingers laced in his,But her mind weaves a face she’s never kissed.A man born of dreams, of whispers at night,He’s perfect in ways her heart thinks is right. Her husband speaks, his voice steady, deep,But there’s another tone her thoughts seek to keep.It’s softer, untested, not worn by time,A melody imagined, without reason or…
Once upon a time, in the era of Tinubu,When hunger wore agbada and danced in the streets,There lived a man—let’s call him Ojo the Dreamer,Whose belly was a drum that never ceased to beat. Ojo, weary of garri and watery soup,Decided one day to eat like the chiefs.So, he strolled to “Chop Life Restaurant,”Where food looked like art, and…
Do you hear the crackling whispers of the wilting trees,Their branches brittle as forgotten bones?Do you see the rivers, once mothers of life,Now throttled by silt, their waters gasping for breath?What song does the dying forest sing—A dirge or a call to arms? The sun, a fierce warrior, blazes in anger,Scorching the fields where yams once thrived.What gods did…
Oh look, here comes our teacher,With big ideas and loud talks.She says we should always be good,But I wonder if she does too. She wants us to clean our room,But her desk is a messy sight.She tells us to share our toys,But does she share her snacks right? When we misbehave in class,She says we should always try.But when…
The elephant once smashed coconuts with savage might,Each strike a hammer, bending the trees to its monstrous will. But now you see it, slow and mild, Eating calmly, with the gentleness of a child. The days of breaking hard shells with might, Seem distant now, hidden from sight. You meet it soft, but know it well, There was a…
What happens when you challenge the establishment?…
The Great Delusion invites you into a…
—for Professor Alofoje Unuigboje— by Majekodunmi Oseriemen…
By Majekodunmi Oseriemen Ebhohon They say the…
