Cruella

for Eremwinde

There are doves at your feet
They die in droves with your disdain
From your gaze far away
Please steal a glance back
To the blood prints in the sands

There are doves around your head
A saintly halo of nature’s innocence
They sing in tune with your refrains
And your aura of happiness like honey
Draws them like moths to you afire
With no thoughts of time
Even to burn out.

There are crows on the horizon
They caw, they guffaw
Trailing your progress with scabby eyes

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For Eremwinde

On nights like this
When the dew sings softly
Of falling on the gossamer
and the silent flight of the owl
Blows the curtains on your windows
I hope you sigh on the glass panes
A held breath, released with the thought of
my name
I hope you whisper it to the silence
For the waiting ears of glamoured crickets
To chirp it to me via chinese whisper
I hope you’ll close your eyes
To see my toothy smile
Never before seen with opened eyes
I hope you’ll stretch your arms
To the new moon,
And wish me into your ample bosom.

Scrapbook fragments

Account book
University Bookshop Ibadan
30 footsteps for a browse through
Peter’s Iconography

Concrete Jungle
Mangoes raining
Over
Bedford

for abedo
Man and wife
Romeo and Juliet
Choose:

Comeback (For Jethrovic)
Ventriloquist
Soliloquist
Somnambulist

Aesthetics
Black in-
king
White paper

Showoff
Black Rose
Goth chic
Benin wish

Rewind
Obey traffic rules
DO NOT SIT
beside
THE WOMEN

for Visar
Child,
Do you see the horses?

Break rules
Of grammar
Not at will

Bricks
Shuffle box
I want
Circle one

Victor’s web
Spun at
Venice Biennale

These are Twoems

Dare
Abstract
Connect with
Eyes open

The Blinkards
Know the
Fate of a cockroach

Pile
of
Hot
White
Sheets.

tic
Mechanic boy
Looking in the mirror
Of a broken bedford

Damn!
I am
In-
King
Whites?

tic
Running on the beach
To the flash
Of your camera

Unabashed
Lied on a rock face
The surface was cool

Quadrangle Blues
Sit in groups
Talk and watches

Peeling the shell
Between teeth and egg

Mango gift on a bag
I left the indent intact

Gap tooth is not a stereotype

Waiting to be moved
By your nudes.jpg
In my memory

Rats
May cross
White mice
For zebra rice

Friends with weed
Are fiends indeed

Dreamt
Tj covered his face
with leaves,
He blew them at me.

Ladi wrote Arabic
From the left margin

Holy mathematics
When I looked closely.

Symptoms of my madness or at midnight infront of a mirror

A quiet Tuesday midnight
But for the infrequent gong
And whistles of the watchman
The sky is lined with neon-light
The streetlight at the crossroad
Is half a moon from the window
With an antenna on the bars
Tuned in to distant frequencies
I’m grateful for crackles
To discern a voice on the radio
While burning a candle and tea
Waiting for the holy word
In revelry of language
From a pose of the mind
Tha’ collage of staccatos