Monthly Archives: July 2011


Tonight I shall not turn on my TV

There shall be no tweets, no PINGS on my BB

There shall be no music, no MP3s nor CDs

I ‘m sending a mail, Mr. President’s on CC

Graduates are lost, can’t defend their GPs

No medicine for Grandpa no help for his BP

We live in fear, our neighbors are Kingpins

Yet all I see is elongation on your DP

Two Fours to Seven someone’s kidding

Power to the Fickle, a Nation’s sinking

Rome burns, but Nero’s fiddling

His hat must be off, each time he’s thinking

Your favorite Doctor-Writer’s persona’s flipping

Too many betrayals, my whole being is cringing

‘Hey, smash the Big Screen’, this eerie thought is creeping

That is why tonight, I’m staying off my TV



I was dressed in my best, in a shirt and a tie

matched my pants with my tie; ’twas purple on black

I had an interview, ’twas the first in a while

Needed all the favor, my starched shirt was white

I didn’t want a bus, so I hopped on a bike

A car came along, splashed mud on my slacks

I rushed to his side, gave him a punch in the eye

Said if I had a gun I’d put a slug in his thigh

No 4th amendment here or he’d be gone 4 a while

Here comes a cop on a bike, with cuffs in his hands

Aiming for my wrist but dude ain’t pressing a charge

Cop was losing his calm, bruising my arm

Good thing I ran, made the venue on time

I’d cleaned myself up, and re-knotted my tie

breathing real hard like I’d be running a mile

The dude that I thrashed, is the one peeping my file!

The interview was over and I walked to the Park

My heart still beating heavy, cursed the luck that I had

Quite a lot on my mind, ‘cos I talked to the man

I said that I was sorry for the puff in his eye

Told him I’d been hunting for a job in a while

“If you really need a job, put a check on your bile!”

I was hurt by the statement but I said “thanks for your time”

Can’t afford another tantrum with a job on the hang

Two hundred and twenty bucks was all that I had

I held the two notes tightly like it’s stuck in my palm

I was sitting by the window right in front of a man

That had a body odor like he dropped from a barn

A beggar came along, his eyes were longing for alms

Gave him one of the notes; “shoo! Be gone from my sight!”

The beggar is gone, the conductor is here

That was when it dawned I gave the beggar my fare!

I went after the beggar ‘cos I was tossed from the bus

A passenger had offered to reimburse from his purse

I turned down the offer, something was wrong!

I’ve been duped by a beggar, so I sought for refund

The bus had left before I saw my fronting was dumb

If the horse is dead, why waste your strength, flogging the horse?

But costly or not, this is a horse I must flog

I caught him by a corner screaming on top of his lungs

He was arguing with his guide, wao! I thought he was dumb?!

How does it feel for this dude to be caught in his fraud?

This would be jungle justice, there’s no need calling the Cops

It’s time to vent my anger, I’ll be drawing some blood

I dragged him to the open and I tossed him a punch

It caught him in the stomach and he stumbled and slumped

I looked right behind me, was alarmed when I saw

I had an unconscious beggar right in front of a mob!

Rantimus PRhyme: MY PEN

I picked my pen and turned it to a wand

The storms raged hard, my ship the billows pound

I picked my pen; it was all that I had

When I was pressed sore, with no helping hand

Darkness surrounds, gloom looms, no one around

I picked my pen and turned it to a wand

The grim reaper came, my tears kissed the sand

I tried to cry, but couldn’t make a sound

I picked my pen; it was all that I had

When friends fell short of loyalty’s demand

I made another when none could be found

I picked my pen and turned it to a wand

The Floods came up; I could not sight the land

Swimming with sharks, where piranhas abound

I picked my pen; it was all that I had

So many blows, but still today I stand

Pushed so hard, still my back defies the ground

I picked my pen and turned it to a wand

I picked my pen; it was all that I had


She looks into his eyes as she said I do

The ring bearer squeaks, he popped his balloon

The Couple pack their baggage, no further ado

They fly for honeymoon, a Resort in Banjul


Honeymoon is over, it’s safe to assume

Those that had wished for a day in her shoes

Beholding her face, bruised by her Boo

Stand back to wonder, if the rumors are true


On her face a Tell-tale Collage of Bruises grew

What happened to that man she flew with to Banjul?

This Beast punching her can’t be the man she knew

She can’t leave him now; that will be un-cool


Come on over friends! Sign this Paper too

Register your condolence, your name on column Two

The Casket won’t be opened; no one can take a look

Her mangled remains lie, her ‘Pine’ Box is screwed