Rantimus PRhyme:LEGEND

Legends come, legends go,
They kiss the Earth, a seed is sown
Some were young, some got old
They never stay till the Tree is grown
Some were mourned, some were mocked
Some were wronged, and died unsung
On trumped up charges, some were docked
Against them gavels and big wigs swung
The cause seemed lost, still they fought
Some got shot, some got hung
Some were gassed, poisoned lungs
In foreign lands asylum sought
Legends Poor, legends broke
They leave the Earth with wounded souls
On greedy tongues, a myth is cloned
Of concealed wealth and pristine cloaks


Rantimus PRhyme:Dear Ken (LETTER TO SARO WIWA)

We’re hiding in a Shell, Nine nooses on our Logo

                                          Dear Ken,
It is not your birthday nor is it November 10th
But I just can’t help what’s ringing in my head
A lot has changed since they forced out your breath
The Niger Delta struggle is now about bread
Ogoni still bleeds, Shell wants to help
Were they not the same people that dragged us to hell?
Everything is blurry, we need to retell
The dark paths you trod, the nights in the cell
You dying with the conviction, that all will be well 
I wish I could say that, but it’s so hard to tell
It’s all being hijacked by the dregs of the Earth
Those on the right side have crossed to the left
With juicy packages, lodged in hotels
Amnesty for thugs, a fortune is spent
Spoil Peter slay Paul, Royalty for rent
Keep the gas burning, it’s all for the Wells
Impostors have risen, lip-syncing Isaac Boro 
I see them and exclaim You Too (U2)? Like Bono
The burden bearer is weak, worn out like Frodo
Funny names we hear, Cynthia White, John Togo
Activists are boy bands, many have gone solo
They want to be millionaires, blame it on Edoho
Those who say the truth, are slept upon like Vono
We try to raise our heads, by looking down, no hope
Our learning brings more pain, Haram to this Boko
We’re hiding in a Shell, Nine nooses on our Logo
We’re very close to government, the surname of Tompolo
Still someone is asking, who is Jomo Gbomo?
The saga still continues, though everything is so-so
There’s so much that is cooked, hard to take the Combo
I’d love to drop my pen, Ken, I’m trying hard, no show 
‘Cos those who fought by your side, are hanging out in Grottos!

Rantimus PRhyme: LINES OF FURY

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Feel my lines, feel my fury
Me and my bars, make up the jury
Drink my wrath, straight from the brewery
Judgment is served, I’m done with schooling
Brought my fist down hard, smashing the pulpit
“This is for the streets!” not for Rookies
Catch the gleam, something is looming
Feel the steam, Plumb is cooking
Society is skewed, the Church is looking
Why won’t they? The Bishop is musing
Can’t jeopardize his tithe, I’m nigh to puking
Bring crooks to church, ordain them as deacons
Receive stolen funds, erect your building
Welcome to Cathief-dral, play me some music
Don’t blink too hard, the devil’s in Gucci
Re-enact the passion, like Jim Caviezel
Feel the stained glass, this is not Da Vinci
Toast to the whore’s wine, bloody martini
The world’s in a hearse, I hear the screaming
“Save me from myself” none is listening
Even the informed, know next to diddly
They engrossed in bickering, but I’m shining my beacon
Screaming ‘May-day’, but y’all is busy
Rome burns, Nero’s fiddling
Like it or not, I fight to finish
Ain’t flying till I finish, vitriol is dripping
Drink it in, ensure you’re sipping
Increase your kicks, I’d still be spitting
From lethargic jaws, your soul delivering
Feel my pulse, take the rhythm
I hate to pause but I have a feeling
Y’all be bored and lose the meaning!


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



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