tears of my drum

1

TEARS OF MY DRUM

(A collection of poems)

S. O. Adebayo, PhD.

Department of Psychology

University of Ado-Ekiti

Nigeria.

2

DEDICATION

For her

Who first fed me

The rhythm of life

In the cosy recess

Of her sanguine womb.

3

LUCUBRATION

Love is

................ freedom from

The fan of hate

When cast out

Like infested fagot

By the ember

Of your love.

4

BASTARD

They are bastards

These black artists of white mind

Lost their eyes, ears and heads

In the scramble for western pottage

Their paintings a grotesque

Devoid of African spice

Of black myth and valour

Doubly amorphous

Rorschach’s inkblots.

These bastards

They say I lack the eyes to see

And the passionate nose to smell

My eardrum blocked

To the music of their batted canvas

I say it is tasteless, spiritless,

A hen’s scratch on sand.

5

These lost sheep

Look at African art contemptuously

But their master, Picasso

From whom they pilfer

Was inspired by African heads

They copy Picasso

And become his shadow

They detest blackness

But they are black

They detest Olokun

They shun Obatala

They are rude to Orunmila

They become shadows

Apes of western show

These African bastards

Who show their father’s house

With the left hands.

6

NO MORE WORD

Leaking basket

Betrayed billions of words

------Harbinger of lies--------

One word

Minced sowed and smothered

In fertile ears

Ought sprout green on fecund hearts

And grow roots and bear fruits

In billions of folds

A wanton dog wandered way- ward – ly

From his master’s leash

-------- A wanton dog lost in a wanton snare-------

He pawed banana at the market square

A wanton dog crushed by a wanton god

7

Any rancid swagger

Deaf to popular lyre

Courts thunderstorm

------- Bottled fumes do become furious

Battered meek do become ferocious

When grain – less hen perches

On supple rope ease fades out---------

8

ENCOUNTER WITH THREE NYMPHS

I

saw one

in the dew – drop

of a wet morn

inside her fluffy nest

a floor of polished brass

she offered me

And

I said no

For it was not doing me

Like sleep

I

Met two

In the gold ray

Of a warm noon

Amidst the verdant growth

A mat of golden fronds

9

She offered me

And

I said no

For it was not doing me

Like sleep

I

Held three

In the moon- cream

Of a cool night

Before the giggling stars

The cleft of her luscious chest

She offered me

And

I said yes

For it was doing me

Like sleep

And

Deep down in that sublime sleep

I heard the quivering lips

Of the giggling stars

Sing the annunciation

10

Of the birth of another priest

A priest whose sceptres

Are the drum the pen and the palm nuts.

11

THE DRUMMERS’ DRUMBEAT

The slimy snail killed

Our king’s hunch – back

So the drummers drummed

The four- horned flesh gorged

Our king’s only eyes

So the drummers drummed

The drummers drummed

Their drum of intrigue

At Obatala’s high altar

------ Whosoever killed the king’s hunch – back

Shall serve as Yemoja’s cold meal

At the frothing riverbank

Or Lakaye’s hot lunch

At the blacksmith’s shed

Or Egbara’s lukewarm dinner

At the three footpath junction;

The snail has killed

The king’s hunch- back

At Obatala’s high altar

The snail shall serve as

Yemoja’s cold meal

12

At the frothing riverbank

Or Lakaye’s hot lunch

At the blacksmith shed

or Egbara’s lukewarm dinner

At the three footpath junction

But the drummers are not our king’s tongue

His highness must have his regal say

-------- Whosoever Killed

The king’s hunch- back

Shall receive regal honours

His head shall wear akoko leaves

His body shall wear alaari pleats

He shall hold the regal horse – tail

And ride in the king’s entourage----

The drummers forgot their old song

And composed again a new song

------We killed the king’s hunch- back

We prostrate for our honours

Our heads shall wear akoko leaves

Our bodies shall wear alaari pleates

13

We shall hold the regal horse tail

We shall ride in the king’s entourage-----

The regal police rounded them all up

And lakaye had a heavy sop.

14

ODE TO THE WAILING DRUM

Gongon

You the reincarnate of ayan tree

The resurrect of sacrificial beast

Your eyes, wide, penetrating like opele tray

See into the deep groves of grumbling spirits

The rhythmic echoes of those weird- looking strings

Baroquing you naked juicy breasts

Like the heavenly dress of igunnuko

Are the sonorous voices of rancoured deities

Of neglected ancestors in the gloom

Of spirits vexed by their prodigal son

Gongon

When ayan in acrobatic gait grabs

When kongo in ritual kowtow touches

Your skin irritated, your eyes red

And your spiritual mouth cries, wailing

In baritone chant proverbial rhythm

The foolish in the shackles of tasteless beer

Wriggles like fly that falls in deep red oil

15

Not able to fly, not able to dance, not

Able to understand the esoteric sob

The wise, in palmwine wisdom, nods heads

He has drunk deep the ripples of olokun

Drank palm wine and salty blood with ogun

Dined with the patriarch, orunmila

And understands the proverbial echoes

Of the dead, of immortal black spirits.

16

RESOLUTION

So

the fig

is plucked

the fig

is eaten

i won’t

outchrist

christ

who cursed

a fig tree

for its figlessnesss

i would wait

patiently

i would tender

caringly

for the efflorescence

of another fig.

17

NOT FOR GOLD ALONE

My peers once quipped

( pushed by the logic of crass materialism)

--------- What crisp notes

Has he to count

For his obsession with numbers--------

I ruminated

------ I have

Neither gold

Nor silver

To show for this lofty

Business of numbers

I have

The halo

Of palm nuts.

18

ILLUSION

The poetic eyes see the wonders of the world

The poetic mind marvels at their worth

Colourful flowers, butterflies and honey bees

The starry stars and their constellations

Litter the azure and dazzle like diamonds on ebony ears

The caressing glow later become biting blaze

The poetic eyes red, searching for almighty’s face

Sudden darkness, glorious shower

Thunder drummed and clarinets clattered

Poetic mind engrossed in the greens

The mushrooms and the climbers that creep

Sheep bleated, lion roared

Man born helpless, immature

Poetic eyes closed darkness in the city.

19

PHANTOM

Like a wanton bitch

She came to me

Sniffing me from head to toes

When i touched her

With my inflamed nose

She began to giggle

But when i ‘tempted

To dance the cosy dance

that showed in her limpid eyes

She breezed away

20

PARABLE OF THE BABUWAS

If you see the babuwas

With bums big like zuma

Do not frown

Do not think they suffer

From elephantiasis of the scrotum

For they are merely answering

The beck and call of their stomachs


With mane like the lion’s

Do not think they’re man – beast


The gibberish of their stomachs


Bedecked in layers of multi- coloured rags

------- an ugly copy of the chameleon’s

Do not laugh

Do not think they have run amok


21

The tom-tom beat of their tummies


Break dancing, beating iromi to its game

Do not wonder

Do not think they love the pains of wriggled waist

For they are merely yielding

The clang and clangour of their entrails

For we are all like the babuwas

With bums big like zuma

With manes bushy like lion’s

With rags coloured like the chameleon’s

Dancing, wriggling to the gallery

Of the buyers of our fake wares.

22

EDIFICE

I look at you all over

And you flash you teeth

Glowingly like sunlight


And you swing your waist

Gracefully like moonlight

It is not to detest

But to attest

That I look at you all over

Contours and crest

This twin – balusters

Of your front – yard

So splendidly erected

Their jingles are like belfry’s

Beckoning me to the gallery

Of a master- hand

The gothic threshold

Of your courtyard

So assiduously engraved

23

I can’t wait to traverse its loft

That bay of your backyard

So opulently baroque

I behold it is there our world revolves


With thought not impure

I only revere

The strokes of the rare sculptor.

24

AUSTERITY

Austerity

Spouse to scarcity

I implore you take leave of me

You who pounded yam in gbegbe leave

And cooked okra in peanut shell

Millions partook in your prudent meal

Hundreds become satiated

Millions become frustrated.

25

ENTRAILINGS

They persuade for a spouse

An assured social forceps

To climb the pyramid of life

The entrails tattoo

Against the white – wash

Of cam wood of approval

That touches far ... far

Not beyond the skin depth

The entrails protest

Against the hawking

Of soap – vendors

The entrails whine

In sympathy with the pocket

For its dearth of cowries.

DRUM – TEARS

softly

26

my drum

softly

your cry

softly

my drum

softly

your tears

do not ooze yourself dry yet

when the maidens’ pots are yet unfilled

softly

my drum

the stick hits gently

softly

my drum

the sticks greets caressingly

do not cry yourself hoarse yet

when the moonlight has just appeared

softly

my drum

27

the stick beats hard now

softly

my drum

your tears well up now

softly

lightly

cautiously

dripping

the

witches

mother

is

dead

softly

my drum

the stick beats painfully

softly

my drum

your eyes red stressfully

which mouth shall tell

that the khaki pocket

is soiled with oil

28

softly

my drum

the stick beats rudely

not borne of disrespect

but of unbound mouth

of a youthful mind

that long to say

all that eyes see

softly

my drum

show your rhythmic grace

yeepa

must you call them vermin

call them scavengers

conmen who call the thieves to despoil

and call the owners to arrest

conmen who sing the thieves songs of escape

before the owners arrive their farms

must you call them scavengers

call them vermin

29

you town – crier

what

my drum

what shall you call them

our teachers whose mothers

were witches

but wait

whatever you call the vampires

who parade as teachers

in verdant khaki

remember

one drum that sounded too loud

just yesterday

when drum stick beat too hard

just yesterday

the drum was badly torn

just yesterday

caution

my drum

30

caution

or how shall we treat the vampires

who stand us up at fang point

I DESERVE YOUR PITY

In the land of poetry i sought you

31

Orunmila and i with searchlight equipped too

Where did we not scoop among the constellation?

The search made with meticulous elocution

Orunmila saw your footprints and taught me poetry

Poetry arouses passion, intellect and reality

Like whirlwind you showed with sympathy

Orunmila grumbles, what a lukewarm empathy

I shuddered and took consolation in a footpath meeting

But no footpath in a crowd’s rattling

I implored the cyclone of telepathy

To bare my restless mind with emphasis

Among the lilies and roses i peeped

I saw colourful butterflies and not bid

Took a protracted look at peahens

Odumare save, i didn’t perish in vain forest

And one misty morning in ebony forest i found you

When the birds in protest refused to sing

The animals for want of warmth stayed in caves

And the wind was still the trees refused to bow

The river between us numbed my nerves

32

When an odourless face was shown to me

An odourless face with high a neck

And a body- gait mighty and high

Sneering

Sneering at me, a poor fool of nature

I heard your psyche, i heard its songs

I heard its beats, i heard your tongue

I heard your villainous psyche proclaim in silence

---------- i have won this psychological war-------

The vanquished be a cadaver for all you care

But i deserve your pity in a wane love.

DANCE OF THE FICKLES

La La Laa La

33

They sung their specious songs, the sophists

Tom Bam Tom Bam

They beat their spurious drums, the casuists

The fickle danced to the tune of illusion

And become frenzy before the flute of deception

The sophists sang in falsetto

The casuists beat incognito

In frenzy the fickle danced

On their heads a veil of trance

Like mosquitoes thirsty for blood

Or bloody bugs that stick to dog

Sophists stuck to fickle’s bodies

With suction- pipe dipped in veins

The fickle wriggled as if in pains

While casuists blew soothing balm

And ate deep into flesh of rams

In pains the fickle yelled

Like birds in groan they fell

Gasped for breath and for bread

34

But the rats still hopped around

And the mosquitoes bit around

December,

When ferocious hunters came

Rapacious rats ready not for the game

Met in the relish of fleshy booty

Sucking mosquitoes became panicky

With ease rats were rounded

In peace mosquitoes wings maimed

Fickle awake from marathon languor

Yawning in praise uniformed saviour

HALT! HALT!!

No spurious song to dance to

Nor specious slogan to blow

Ferocious hunters clamped on them all

And the fickle minds became empty

At the noon of the fantasy

And they longed for the sophists

And they clamoured for the casuists

To blow and beat and bite.

35

ELEGY

Alas

I have gone to Ogun to launder

36

Alas

I have gone to Osa to launder

I returned home

Without my jumper

My eyes oozed water

Profusely, profusely

Alas

I have paddled to Osun for fishing

Alas

I have paddled to Oya for fishing

I returned home with a rotten fish

My body shivered

Violently, violently

Alas

I have walked to Ila for palm wine

Alas

I have walked to Ife for palm wine

I returned home with a broken gourd

My throat gasped

Thirstily, thirstily

37

Alas

I have gone to Iginju for hunting

Alas

I have gone to iginju for hunting

I returned home with a fetid squirrel

My stomach rumbled

Hungrily hungrily hungrily.

COCKTAIL BANTER

A brother, dear in thought and in poetry

Broke once, when caught between the webs

Of the scourging flame of philosophy

And the sensual tinge of profanity

Precious porcelain

38

----------- Should a wise cock make a peck for corn

Amidst hot coals-----------

A bouldering pelt in the ocean tide of my wine

His broken porcelain

I offer

------------ The cock that pecks complacency

Only in the grains of known ground

Lives a life impoverished of knowledge

That which glows also in the grain of hot coals

Courts death opulent of experience

Better to die of opulence of knowledge

Than to live in poverty of experience

Sweeter to drink hemlock of philosophy

Than to eat honey of profanity

As my bawdy gourd.

JACKSON’S SYNDROME

Give to me a chisel and a hammer

Call for me a tailor, bring a pliers

My nose too black for my black face

Let me have a taste of aquiline nose

Absurd?

39

Nonsense

White I’m in mind

Black my hide

And what’s absurd

In a white mind

With a white nose

On a black hide?

It is Jackson syndrome

Uncanny novelty in uncanny world

A man looked at his hair, kinky

Uttered disdain

Looked at another man’s, silky

Total longing

Rushed for palm oil

For pepper

And for salt

With these condiments equipped for a frizzle

Conflagration as his hair sizzled

Burnt scalp

Bald head

Goat’s hair

40

All is Jackson’s syndrome


Let the spotted leopard

That shows disdain for spots

Be soaked in burning oil

Let him become de- leopard spot

Or de- spotted leopard

Let the unproud lion

With mind transsexual

His mane be barbed

Let him become de- mane lion

Or de- lioned mane

Let him be sapped of manly juice

Let him become yolk – less lioness

De- leopard spots

Or

De- spotted leopards

De –mane lion

Or

De- lioned mane

Symptoms of jack son’s syndrome

41


THEIR DISEASES DIFFER

She brings her porous chants

To cause ripples in the oil-peace

Of her homestead

Woman of hundred books

42

She strums new slogans

Stringed behind her spongy ken


She is the female spider

That looms large over her partner


Her man folk run for dear life

From the carcinogens

Of her frothing fancy


Yet woman of hundred books

Dead to the sniggers of her soul sisters

Blinded by the toxin of her own clamour

Basks in the water- surge of her own grandeur

Pontificates on a ponderous snap

Of macho – cast shackles

She clamours for

A man- baby- sitter

A man- baby- feeder

43

A man- baby-singer

A man whose soft servile songs

Makes the baby sleep, the woman free

She clamours for

A man- food- cooker

A man-dish- washer

A man who garnishes so tastily

For her to devour so hungrily

She clamours for

A man who shows dexterity

In the wash of dirty panties

Who are her followers?

Who are her admirers?

Not the soul sisters

Who commit hara-kiri for husband’s pleasure


Who rest on two knees

To serve husband’s delicious meal


Whose joy of womanhood

Is found in baby-making

44


That sweep the floor

And split the wood

that make mighty mounds

That prop up the roots of bulging crops


Too eager to play the ridden horse

That welcomes the fuss

Of whipping twilight


Wants a man-dish – washer

Her soul sisters

Wants a man-bed – warmer

They are like monkeys and vultures

That are not alike in their festering sores

Vulture is bald on its head

Monkey is bald on its bottom

They both need soothing balm

Of the physician.

45

REMI

You,

( a lady)

Full of grace

Gave me dreams

Full of quixotic fancies

46

Till

The scales

Fell

And dawn dawned on me -

I

a mere fool

Riding

On

A cockroach’s back

TRANSIENCE

I, sentinelled

In the drizzle

Of a time

Wet----------

Like a drake

47

Without a nest

Trembling ----------------

Like a lily

At stream- side

Till you beckoned

And gave me shelter

In your dome

But

When a deluge

Chased the drizzle

And the sky hounds

Sanctioned the chase

You chased me out

Into the cold.

REQUIEM

The well wrought scale of Rectitude

Smelted in the furnace of impulsiveness

Sword of Aurora

Recast into swagger sticks

Archetypal voice of orunmila

48

Choked with treasures from mammon

Hydra- headed Octopus

Decorated with sceptre of Obatala

Rectitude himself

Murdered at the high altar of solipsism

Situational ethics

Adorned in the toga of currency

Behold! Yesterday’s Barabas

Proclaimed as today’s Kristi.

AMAZONOIDS

At the freedom square they all gathered

In various colours in various hues

Some in skirts that wept for blouses

Some in blouses that cared less for boobs

Some wore trousers that made men stagger

49

Some held cudgels to maim only flies

Some held bows with arrows to shoot

Some dressed trenches to swallow archfiends

Amazonoids

Gathered at freedom square

Eve- wits

Asking for freedom

Cudgellers of flies

Asking for freedom

Shooters of darts

Asking for freedoms

Dressers of trenches

Asking for freedom?

The songs for the bedroom

They sang at boardrooms

‘of friends that had stayed too long on top

Fiends that felt not what

The back- ache does the nymph

When the baron is on top thumping hard

50

They gathered

At freedom square

Waiving cudgels

Maiming flies

Chanting solidarity songs

Against the fetters

That the masculine world

Has cast

Amazonoids!

MANACLE

Muezin’s allaah...........

Imam’s fatiaah............

Ladani’s amplification

Jaamoh’s genuflection

Lumutu drops a cadaver

51

Ladani turns a scavenger

And imam recites mantra for mammon.

FLASH FLIES

(1)

Ayandele tell them

With the mouth of your drum

Tell those who yearn to walk

But detest to crawl

52

Tell them

There is no short- out

To the lofty neck of the palm

(2)

We are the prodigals

Who ate with ten fingers

Under the glow of their festive sun

And now that the festive sun has set

Here we are

Trying the knot of cocoyam leaves

To enrobe our naked public

(3)

There are many knots

My child- like eyes could behold

Many knots

My child like mind could untie

A woman’s cunt on a hawker’s tray

Is one knot

Beyond my child-like mind

53

(4)

The breath, that fresh breath

Breathed into a people

Who have genuflected too long

Looking skyward for their bread

Breath breathed into them

By bods who cherished salvation for their folks

Breath breathed so they may this time

Look bad crowns in the face

That fresh breath is now decreed foul breath

By taskmasters

Who have their ways with the gun.

CONDITIONALITIES OF LOVE

So like IMF

Love too has its own conditionalities

It took me so long a time to know this.

I first thought you accepted me for what i was

--------- a poor village teacher

54

Who lives on nine naira and fourty kobo

(victim of our warped reward system)

But two takes solace

In turning out brains; graduates

Who may one day breeze back to campus

In sleeky cars like

Benze

BMW

Daewoo

Lexus

Pajero

Or any other flashy coffin

That moves on four legs

Experts who may one day look down on their village

Teacher and his nine naira and fourty kobo income

With disdain------

I thought you accepted me for what i was

And it ment much to me than you really could know

But one afternoon

You brought your own thesis

That lagos is where opportunities abound

Where we too could catch the silvery smile of fortune

55

Where like corporate masquerade i could wear tie with

Bright plumage and cuff links and tie clips and braces

And suspenders to match

And we too could ride our own sleeky car like

Benze

Bmw

Daewoo

Lexus

Or pajero

Or other elegant coffin

That walks on four legs

I gave consideration to your thesis

And i started to beg to apply for dubious jobs

In dubious establishments

I applied as chief messenger to the MD of a backwarding coy

And also as an executive market researcher in another coy

That goads people to buy what they may not need

I also applied as an expert liar who can wrap lies

In golden papers and as community relations officer

To an oil scavenger whose gluttonous phallus has defiled

Some communities’ virgin land

I begged to apply for all kinds of odd jobs in all kinds

56

Of odd companies to please your thesis

As luck would have it

All my prospective employers spoke with one voice.

That i may not be needed in their dubious business

First i have stayed too long

In the noble profession of turning out brains

When the experience they wanted is manufacturing lies

Second i have stayed too long in the village

To know the Wiley ways of lagos and port- Harcourt and

Other big cities where fortune smiles in generous ways

Third i have become the dry fish whose back may not bend

To learn new tricks

So one evening when you treated me like a failure

And chased me out in the cold

I then realised that love like IMF

Has its own conditionalities.

TYRANY OF LOVE

Funmi,

When i had not met you

I was a person who could work

And eat and sleep and wake

Without the thoughts of love

57

Then you came

And sowed the seed of love

In the fertile soil of my heart

And i became a man

Whose work and sleep and awake

Depends on the thought and touch

And care and caress of you

And when i become so used

To the thoughts and touch

And care and caress of you

You uprooted the shoot and planted it

In a strange heart

And i became a man

Who keeps awake by

The thoughts of the loss of you love

11.3.94

3:15am

58

TALE OF A POPULAR GRIOT

A griot

Pregnant,

Heavy with

Baby woes

Stripes

59

And

Swaggers;

Ravisher

In

Verdant gown

Raped

And

Poured

Syphilitic semen

In

His bum

Griot

Courted

With four fancies

Bared bum

Like cheap homo

Unaware

Of two jokers

Dangling below the belt

Bomb dele

And

60

Fuck the griot

Sap the masses

And

Fuck the griot

Lock gani

And

Lock wisdom- house

And

Fuck the griot

Lock wisdom lips

And

Fuck the griot

Pain

Not pleasure

Now the wriggle of the griot

In labour pain

Griot pumped heavy

By sadistic cock

We wait

Chin in palm

For the birth

61

Of his cantankerous fume

SFEM

The giddy peacock

Pawns his plumage

At the market of fox

He has sapped off fear

Of egg- drop syndrome

62

And coccidiosis

Of aspergillosis

And the plundering hawks

That hover from the west

Eleven peacock feathers

Now exchange for a crow’s

Indeed the phoenix

Has found his peers

In the market of death.

RUMINATIONS ON THE TWELFTH MOON

The twelfth moon

Has shown its snow- white teeth

To bless the maiden toils of lovers

But here i am still gropping, still hoping

63

If only your coquettish smiles

Did not entrap

If only your flirting

Did not deceive

If only the diamonds in your eyes

Did not attract

If only the fires from them

Did not warm a cold hearth

If only your bright plumage

Did not raise a comb

If only the rules of your game

Were down to earth

I’ll not still be bending at your post

Toiling, mincing and smothering the seeds of feeling

64

In the infertile soil of your heart

This twelfth moon, i’ll not be at your post

Waiting, hoping to harvest a leafy feeling

Planted eleven moon ago in your heart

(2)

If i have the wings

Of an eagle i’ll fly

Fly, fly from your snare

I’ll fly from you

Over the niger

And the nile

I’ll fly Limpopo and Zambezi

I’ll fly to touch the gems of the sky

I’ll fly away from you

Over the meditarania

And the red seas

I’ll fly over the atlantic

The pacific and the Indian oceans

I’ll fly over the Victoria Falls too

I’ll wrap my body

In the warm velvet of the sky

65

If i have the wings

Of a dove i’ll fly

And free myself from your snare

But why......

Why fly at all

When i know i’ll return

To still plead for your love

(3)

Why so cold

Like the soup in aluminium pot

Why so deaf

Like the boulders of ikare hills

Why so unfeeling

Like the wind from sahara

Why so unyielding

Like the loins of iroko

You who were graceful like the gazelle

66

Why have you become so conceited

Like the snake

(4)

See what you have

Remoulded me to

A mere rhymer of love rhymes

I have sacrificed

The vibrancy of my art

At the altar of your pride

Loud voice

Powerful rhymes

Poignant rhythms

Conscious themes

I have lost the biting strokes of my quil

At the altar of your pride

I have tempered anger with love

.......... are you so deaf

So callous

So unfeeling

Won’t you listen to my song still

In the glow of this twelfth moon?

67

(5)

So self- centred

Like the cyclone

So sorrow- striking

Like earthquake

Your inconsideration

Burns like fire

Your coldness

Spreads pneumonia

If Eve was

Half cold to Adam as you

They would not have populated the world

With their love

It is the twelfth moon already

When will you turn a new leaf?

(6)

And you too

The twelfth moon

You too sniggering at me

You too chorousing with eleven moons

68

To mock my misfortune

And you too

The twelfth moon

You too refusing me your pity

You too joining the eleven moons

To dance at my failure

And you too

The twelfth moon

Laughing at my folly

You too tangoing with her

Because i mistook

These glazed leads

For diamonds

And you too

The twelfth moon

(7)

Moon

You sit down there smiling

But why is your smile

So gay today

Is it to mock

My going home downcast

69

Like a vanquished in a fence

Go on, open wide your silvery teeth

And mock my dropping head

And my broken sword

Mock my shredded sheath

And my broken shield

Mock the wound i incurred from fencing

Mock my manly quality

So unmanly as to lose in a fence

Mock my poor manly quality

So little to fill

The thimble of our junior eve

(8)

Obatala

You are a failed artist

Your art is not inspiring

This one mistake you commited

Has removed the rhythm from your canvas

Why did you paint

70

Her head with sand

Why not experiment

With fried cassava grains

Then the movement of your work will show

As i pour the hot water of my feelings on her head

Obatala bring yourself down from mountain ife

And learn a thing or two

From my mortal strokes.

tears of my drum

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