Monthly Archives: June 2011


Education is sin, I heard him say

So we climbed up the tree to blend with apes

We chant our god’s greatness, and then we slay

Delusion births hatred, and truth is raped

Renounce your brains, perhaps I’d let you live

Toss them in flames, Allah might let you in

I keep your gadgets, lest they help you sin

Laptops, handsets; your bride and S-U-Vs

They buried the Ustaz, sans scythes sans sickles

Now he returns to revive the evil

My eyes sting, bleed to my cheeks in trickles

The dead don’t spill beans, they mind the weevils

Who sired you? Raised you, inspired you?

Hired you; told the Cops to fire you?



Don’t cry for the moon, cry for the truth

Cry for these dudes that wouldn’t care for the youth

Cry for the schools that can’t afford a textbook

Cry for the labs that have never seen a test-tube

Cry for the teachers that never get a thank you

Their reward is in heaven, after all hell is let loose

Cry for the just men, cry for their blood shed

Cry for the government and cry for their involvement

Cry for bogus laws, cry for their enforcement

Cry for my readers because I think I lost them

Cry for the fraud that y’all call elections

Cry for the winner that perished in detention

Cry for our folks while they’re crying for their pension

The pressures of depression in the middle of recession

Cry till you’re sore and convulse like it’s fever

Flood my eyes with tears, and I’ll cry me a river

Cry for the convoy that took away my cousin

Some really worthless dudes, they plunged us into mourning

Cry for the daddy that stepped out in the morning

But never made the journey, a killer Cop had shot him

Cry for Zango Kataf, Zaki Biam and Odi

Cry for the blood that kissed the earth and soaked it

Cry for Diana; don’t forget to cry for Dodi

Cry for Henri Paul, he will never tell the story

Cry for Iraq, cry for Afganistan

Cry for those that perished in the name of Christ and Islam

Cry for Nagasaki, cry for Hiroshima

Tears in an envelope, letters from Iwo Jima

Cry for a world ruled by terrorists and schemers

Cry like you’re Wesley in a Methodist Cathedral

Cry for the World, but wait for the worst part

Cry for a future where Hitler was a Just Man!


You’re my friend, I’m your friend

We are friends, so they said

With your torch and your gun you stand at a sharp bend

‘Something for your boys’ or I wind up dead

Lead in the head as the street turns red

I hate to admit, my friend is a fiend

You’re my friend, I’m your friend

In Black and White that’s what I read (red)

Uncle Funsho1 met his untimely end

In his house, your station nearby-just-by-the-bend

The Ige2 Family, still mourning their head

Blame it on robbers, blame it on MEND

You’re my friend, I’m your friend

For your family, you’re trying to fend

I don’t begrudge that, but when I offend

Take me to the Station, don’t make me spend

The money meant for family and then drag me to hell

That’s all I ask for, my friendly fiend

You’re my friend oh Dark clothed fiend

Dawodu3 brothers and so many dead

‘Accidental discharge’ ‘oozing’ chunks of lead

Kalashnikov4 Party, the 47 must be feared

You’re my friend, I’m your friend

Don’t take me home, my precious fiend


1 Engineer Funsho Williams

2 Bola Ige

3 Dawodu Brothers were killed by a trigger happy Cop, Ezeh Ibe in 1987

4 AK-47 Rifle

Rantimus Prhyme: Sam Cooke vs Tupac

I’m a rare breed, an optimistic cynic

A passive activist, satiated bulimic

Garrulously taciturn, Sedentary but standing tall

I’m a coherent Contradiction, all packed in Rantimus

I do not claim to talk to the dead,

But Sam Coooke debates with ‘Pac in my head

A change’s gon’ come, I see no change

Whose voice takes the lead in the End?

Lead, Lead in the head, dead

I saw a new Nigeria, a clear apparition,

A visible blur, wholesome partition

Predictably capricious, unmotivated and ambitious

I lack image, but I am a picture

The bleak brightness called the future

The fractured pieces in a Suture

I’m the growth you dread like a tumor

The claim confirmed by a rumor

Knowledgeably confused by my identity

I am me; I am you, well known like out of the blue

All-Seeing Nigerian; blind, in search of the truth