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A LETTER TO MY COUNTRY MAN
You call them WAZOBIA! His tribal marks remind you of how Iya Bisi tore your skin with strokes The aroma sizzles through your nostrilsBrushing your
FANTASY
May 12th, A freaky morning With sunken eyes, in the wee hours Awaken for the umpteenth time to pass water Grasps the mobile phone with
FLAWS AND ALL
If there is one thing I cherish, it would be how your lip trembles when you call me Barbie. The way I watch each letter
DIARY OF A TYPICAL BOY
The longest piece you might read today WHO YOU CALL BOY On days like this, I conclude a boy’s face is an emoji. A million
I WAS HERE
On noons like this – scorching I’m a Venn diagram The subject matter trapped in your stubby fingers Stuck on the tip of your blunt
CHRONOLOGY OF BEING HOME
A SCORE CARD 1.Home is fun. I always pretend.Here, work beckons.One of the reasons I never liked paying a visit. The cozy sitting room with
WANTING TO TELL GOD
I’m starving!Why does it take too long for justice to be served?A slice of Esau’s porridgeChunk of mannaOr salt from Lot’s wife God is asleepSnoring!Not
MY REPLICA AND ITS HALF
The year started on a blank page. I mumbled some resolutions under my breath peeling every habit I once had. Each crumb falling into my
A CHUNK OF HER
She is a parcel of missing lettersWears a placard of misspelt prioritiesHere, they scramble to smash her records She is frailLike the shape of broken
UP NEPA
I remember vividly the first wordsI ever uttered as a kidUp Nepa! The only words that broke the silenceIn my lonely streetDangling on dusty rooftopsOf
WE WILL SING AGAIN
Sadly, I will not call this a poemThis is a mementoFrom the archives of 08/08/19For it is now history Death escorts us back from the
DEAR MICHELLE
Like freckles, I am the spot on every surface Indelible. Dear Michelle You mean a lot to me