Beauty and mad

She is lost in a world of her own
thoughts swirling and colliding
inside her troubled mind

Her wild, unkempt brown hair
framing her delicate face
a portrait of sorrow and despair
Seen in every line and crease

But within those troubled eyes
a spark of defiance and strength
a glimmer of resilience
amidst the chaos and torment

She is mad
but there's a beauty in her madness
a fierce spirit that refuses
to be mocked or tamed 

And as she stands with hands on her head
lost in her own obvious world
she is a symphony yet unsung 
a masterpiece ,raw and natural.

My tongue

Give me back my native language 
A tongue that resonates with 
The heart beat of my ancestors 
To express my thoughts, feelings and idea
In a familiar yet foreign lingua franca
Is like depriving me of palm oil and roasted yam
Denying me of my very own vernacular, 
It's the essence of my culture as perceived by the rigors of tradition
A unique gift passed down
By our forefathers,
We must orally nurture and preserve it 

For no telephone can communicate with the gods
Give us back our language,
Our sacred link
So that we may ask the gods
for abundant rains,
Bountiful harvests
Many wives, more children 
Embrace good deaths
Worthy of joining the ancestors
In the sacred abode of mother earth 
As our destiny foretold 

A visit

        Speaker 1     
Bring two kolanut
Wash your hand with still water
Entrance is then granted

         Speaker 2
I have brought the kola not 
And washed my hands with pure water
I seek entrance with respect
As I approach, let me find favor

May the spirits of this place
Accept my humble offering
Grant me guidance and protection
As I walk this sacred ground

Let the blessings of the kola
Bring harmony and unity
As I seek wisdom and peace
In this place of sanctity

0-0-1

The hunger strategy have made fasting 
look like a daily routine
The stomach in response have embarked on an indefinite strike
The rumblings and growls echo their protest, with 
Their placard demanding sustenance
 In this state of deprivation,
 I find solace in familiarity,
The struggle to resist temptation, 
the inner turmoil that accompanies it.
The hunger is both a constant reminder and a test of my citizenship 
And yet, in this deprivation, I discover the true value of sustenance.
As i continue to push through, 
Money and opportunity cost are flashing warning lights  
I'm reminded of the absence of my wallet, an emphasis 
Like a promise of clothing made by nakedness,
With smiles on different faces 
It signify's the injustices of the unmet needs of society in abundance
And calls for action, urgently.

A toku aye (death seller of the world)

 And hell,
For a bargain of souls
tempting with promises
of eternal bliss or torment
but who really holds the power
over life and death?
is it the seller
or the buyer?
perhaps the truth lies
beyond the world of transaction
in the hands of fate
and the unknown
where no amount of currency
can sway the outcome
of our final destination