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Aztec Warrior Sep 2015
HUMAN HISTORY 2: LET'S DANCE
(A few words of acknowledgement: While these are my ideas and thoughts, I drew heavily on the story of 'Waterlily', written by Ella Cara Deloria. The discussion between the two Sioux women described below are drawn from this book. Her book beautifully details the life of 2 Dakota Sioux women and with them the customs, beliefs and beauty of the Dakota Sioux people. I am deeply in her debt.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Let's dance.
Lets dance.
Put on your red shoes and dance the blues.'
-D. Bowie


I.
'Hao, Kola!'
'Hao, Kola!'
Greetings between two
darkly tanned men, black hair
long and waving erratically in the wind,
their deep black eyes smile
and embrace these two warrior friends.
'Hao, Kola!'

II.
Out in the open prairie,
under an intense blue sky,
a few sharply white clouds
float in contrast against it;
two Peoples drew towards
each other for a ceremonial sing,
as was customary before the Great Sun Dance.

Ill.
'Hokahe'. 'Hokahe'.
'Hokahe'. 'Hokahe'.
Dakotas and Omahas meet.'
Hokahe' floats on the fresh morning breeze.
Colorful war standards wave and
flirt about gracefully.
The Omahas have come to sing.
The Omahas, proud, magnificently bold.
The Omahas, self assured in painted red face,
wearing heavily fringed buckskin white,
brilliantly adorned.
With war standards and lances held high,
the Omahas were a breath taking sight.
As there on the prairie's lush green grass
Omahas greet Dakotas with ceremonial song.

IV.
Two Dakota women overheard talking:
Blue Bird: 'You met them?! What are
white people really like?
Are they gentle, kind, as their
skin would imply?'
Smiling One: 'No, they are very hard, very
stern and dull towards each
other. They pass each other without
recognition. Very unmannerly.'
Blue Bird: 'And what about the children?
How do they play?'
Smiling One: 'Oh, this is so sad I would
say. I don't understand the
reasoning behind their ways.
These people actually detest
their children. You should see
them; slapping their little one's
faces and lashing their poor little
buttocks to make them cry!
Yelling and screaming at them
anytime of the day. I have never
seen children treated this way!!'
Blue Bird: Deep in thought, hugs little
Water Lily. She feels sick with
sympathy for these unknown
children. Only crazy people
teach their children like this.
What makes white people act so crazy?

V.
The Sun Dance time has arrived.
All the different Peoples, Tribes.
The Dakota, Teton, Omaha
make good on their vows
to the Great Spirits,
renew the hopes of their families
for peace and plenty from the land.
And they danced.
Looking straight into the sun,
because they knew it was what made them one
with the world and each other.
And they danced.
Time itself was lost in the sun
and new life was begun.
And they danced.
Danced around and sacrificed on
the clean cut pole,
blessed and made holy
just for this ceremony.
And they danced.
Till the sun was thrice Earth eaten
and moon time rose full in the sky.
But now on a different scene
and a People from so long ago,
who in their naked skin,
danced and howled at the moon.
Howled at the dead and the living.
Howled and danced,
danced and howled cause they were human.

VI.
Alone,
orbiting on this blue-toned Earth
I want to ask:
When will we, today’s humans dance?
Dance in global community?
Dance on the lush green grassy plains?
Dance on high hillsides, howling at a full, lush moon?

VII
'Let's dance.
Let's dance.
Put on your red shoes and dance the blues...'

~~written 10.1.98~~
this poem was written a long time ago.. I think it still holds up.
Drunk poet Jul 2016
Ajoke, daughter of moremi,
Beauty is a predicament in your lineage,
Your beauty bring out star at night,
Stars even told the Wisemen about it.

The beauty that runs in your blood,
Mama kola makes a lot of profit at dawn,
When men gathered to drink and speak of
Your beauty.
Each making a bet to have you.


Ajoke, your ęwa(beauty)  is angelic,
Your tiny voice is mellific,
Your dimples is intoxicatic,
Your ostrich legs so charismatic.

But your beauty is delusive,
Think not that a derisive,
I must be Ilucinating!
Stop appearing in my dreams,
Come to my reality!
Impulzez Jan 2015
Love is Young; Love is Old
Old love in age Young love at heart
A never dying feeling felt more in death
The Sweetness of Love is always better than its bitterness
Yet the feeling of Loves' bitterness is why we love more

Love is Pain; Love is Gain
Painful Love is Jealous
Gainful Love is Humorous
Old Lovers die in gain
Young Lovers hurt in pain
The experience of Love
When it is from the wrong place
a sweet feeling hurting a thrilling
As the tastes of the Bitter Kola
stays bitter until chewed and swallowed further
Then the sweetness sips in sweetening
Ife Orogbo; an old love that loves long
bearing all through thick and thin
In Sickness and in Health
till death do you part
like gold in fire; fish in water
Ife Orogbo; True Love Grows Old
the love of old
Allen Wilbert Dec 2013
Doc Allen

Hello nurse, how does our day look,
pretty busy Doctor Allen.
Well send me in the first patient,
hello Mr. Davis, how may I help you,
well doc, I have a problem getting a *******.
Well sir you have Erectile Dysfunction,
or better know as impotence.
I will write you a prescription for ******,
try them for a week, if they don't work,
have your wife come in and I will satisfy her needs.
Next patient, Nurse Lucy,
His name is well we don't know he has Amnesia.
Oh goody, hello do you know who you are, nope,
do you know where you're from, nope,
do you know anything, nope.
Well sir there are no pills,
but I will try something.
Now this may hurt a lot,
I'm gonna whack you with a hammer.
Ouch doc, hey I remember now,
my name is Bob and I'm from Boston, thanks doc.
Nurse Lucy, who's next,
it's Susan and she has Tourette Syndrome,
oh boy, another winner.
Hello Susan how are you today,
good doc, ****, ****, *******.
Wow does this happen often,
about twice a day, ****, ***, ****.
Well Susan there is no cure,
but you must relax more,
try some yoga and meditation,
now slutty, *****, *****, get the **** out.
Nurse Lucy, who's next, Lance he has Leprosy,
wow what a day this is.
Hello Lance, how are you today,
I'm good but I'm falling apart.
I see that your finger just fell on my desk,
sorry doc, it's getting worse,
I already lost my *****.
Well Lance there is nothing worse than that,
there is one known treatment.
It's called Gotu Kola, it doesn't cure it,
but it will slow it down.
Oh god sir, your ear just fell in my coffee,
we'll have to order it, but in the mean time,
try not to lose your head.
Nurse Lucy, anyone else,
one more Doctor Allen and it's me,
I need *** real bad.
Bend me over the desk,
and pound me good,
Nurse Lucy,
I thought you'd never ask.
everly Sep 2018
nothing more satisfying
than that
first swim
of the summer
that first lick of a
dripping icee or gelato whatever floats your goats

but that view
of that first warm sunset
reminding you that you don't got a man yet.





absolutely precious
oh summer..
Marie-Niege Sep 2016
The ghost in your eyes tells me it's gonna be alright. ****** senseless on what might as well have been a two stacked mattress at Holiday Inn, your girl closes her yes and sees orange tones of red flashing down the white sleeves of your bland shirt,

she's on fire, heavenly so, she's on fire, a can of crushed fruit stuffed and so you feel for me, your dreams of wooly women curved of sheep and soul-y wandering across your aim, you fire, "I'm into it." as you set my frame a-glow. My legs twist into pretzels, see me baby. I am your Amazonian woman, wide-shipped and shimmering beneath the angry sun.

Orange hued and hungry for your blue American Spirited high yellow lungs, you find my funkadellic paraphernalic lips, swollen as they are for your candor.

I am Queen Ivy inspire, lucidly waiting to be the poison that inspires you, I sit lonesome on the stoop of anabandoned lot, Peter Penning down your inked arms, "Not only boys are lost," into your caramel Cuban coffeed dreams, "Girls can be too."

What live game do I remind you of, I wonder as you taste me, bitter kola nut forming across your lips as white swells of smoke ruin you, we are unbearably distant. One never hurt and the other already ruined once before and possibly never again: That sickeningly silly kind of shy but not that lingers cold to the blue flames you expel my way as dark clouds form into your eyes.

I am your Amazonian woman.
Sept. 7: In progress
Yenson Nov 2021
She had her stall by the corner of the dusty inroad
just four sticks square and palm fronds for roof
a cool shade from the biting sunshine
we call her Mama Leaves
because she sold bundles of leaves and large shards of banana leaves
she would wave at us as we walked by to school
and when in the afternoon we returned she would still be there
though most of the leaves would have been sold

she did a brisk trade
corn meal, cassava porridge, bean cakes and a lot more
came cooked and wrapped in fresh leaves
at the markets the butchers wrapped beef cuts in leaves
kola nuts, pounded yam and even slabs of pig fat came in leaves
and you've not lived until you eat charcoal-grilled
pork bellies with pepper sauce off a banana leaf
yes! Mama Leaves had reasons for her wide pleasant smiles
some days her teenage daughter would sit beside her
sprinkling water on bundle of leaves to keep them fresher

I grew older and went away to college
I no longer wore shorts but trousers now and some fur
had begun to spurt under my top lip and my voice was hoarser
and mama Leaves was no longer at her stall
no bundles of large green leaves in buckets in front of her stall  
no neatly squared cut banana leaves laid heaped
on that old weather beaten table in her stall
the rustic olde wooden shack now had corrugated tin side panels
as also the roof
and inside her daughter now sold gaily coloured plastic bags
and thousands of small clear transparent cellophane

I asked my mother what happened
where is Mama Leaves, where are the Leaves, where is her smile
young man, mother replied, we have to move with the times
The Ministry of Health says leave wrappers are unhygienic
cholera, Tsetse fever, small-pox and all kinds of transmutable diseases can be easily spread
now we wrapped everything in plastics
they come from England and all the civilised top nations
look around you, see how everything is nicely wrapped in plastic
Mama Leaves has retired, her daughter now sells plastics
that's progress and modern civilisation for you, young man
when you're older with your own family you will thank plastics

last year I drove my Mercedes past my childhood home
my car came minted new plastic wrapped from Germany
the locals call such cars 'Tear Plastic cars'
as you spend days tearing off plastics from headlights to console
to gear stick to steering column not to mention the seats

Mama Leaves stall was no more, in place an asbestos built store
they sold Alcohols, Coca-colas, tapes discs, all things plastics
all things imported from England and all the civilised top nations
Mama Leaves and my mother are no more
my mother had said
"that's progress and modern civilisation for you, young man
when you're older with your own family you will thank plastics"
I wonder what she'll say.....today!
Coming through the windows
Our bedside lamp in bow
In welcome of your brightness
With Hope, peace, and happiness
Oh! You unveil
A new beginning with love
Carried by your light like dove
A beginning full of hope
Mother’s knees bent in devotion
Counting beads as in meditation
At the ancestral shrine
Father pours libation
Breaking kola nut as in occasion
All in welcome of you

Ewoo…!  Ewoo..!!
Seven piece from one kola
This is an Omen….
Father in great awe
Mother seems far away
Both in conflicting hope
Your light shine for us to cope
You shine with promise
For us to work and not miss.
Fellow; lets embrace this light
And walk our paths with strength
In oneness to love
In unity to wit
Kola nut is a very important nut used in most occasions in my African. We also  use kola nut to welcome our visitors. It has different names in our diverse language and culture, but serves the same purpose. We call it 'Oji' in Ezi my lovely town.
Drunk poet May 2017
Let me have a bite
Beside the shaped ancient teeth
From the mythic kola
Where only wisdom dwells.
.
Let me have a smoke
From the ancient pipe
Pulled out from aged toothless mouth
That smells our untainted heritage.
.
Let me have a sip
From the curved horns and cultured Calabash
Filled up with ale and undiluted palm wine
To intoxicate me with our heritage.
.
Let me have  a seat
Amongst the white beard heads
To play the "local game" with stones
So that I may be taught the bounds in my thoughts from
From aged bloods that flows like euphrates into the garden of our motherland.
.
Let us have some music
Sang with dry lips that echoes from soundless cave
Infuriated with flutes, gongs and talking drums
That we may dance-off our ignorance
To see the chain left by our ancestors to be drawn.

Balogun David Tolulope
Drunk  Poet
© 2017
Aristotle Aug 2020
OH BABY! FLOWERS BLOOMED FROM MY SKULL.

do you remember how you split it open? like the bittersweet greeting of a kola nut, you split it open, ya know? yelling goodbyes to my brain, as all my memories kicked for mercy to never be forgotten.

do you remember the ripples of my blood?
you told me i was beautiful, how the cerebral sap of my mind was tender and pink and raw, like a cleaved watermelon on a japanese summer’s day, sweet and sour, so sweet and sour, you watched in delight as I writhed on the barren floor, begging mother earth for sweet death.

i remember you well.
the sparse nightclub, the flashing lights, the litters of countless dancing bodies.
then there was you, gold-eyed, black-lipped, summer-dropped skin, dyed-waves.
you looked for sad girls like me, girls who tried to fix you, and spoon feed you words of love and glamor, you looked heartbroken darling.

you were gorgeous, godly gorgeous, with the devil’s mind but the tongue of a saint, you reeled me in; never having to hunt since your prey came to you, we searched for the lost light in your eyes.

and I saw it, life reborn, given birth by da vinci, a renaissance erupted through your white death bones, you came alive, savoring each wound, each terrified soprano raking my raspy throat till their was no more, you were strong, so ungodly strong that fighting back only got you harder, happier-severing my hope of survival to a orange pulp.

but i got to see it.
how i fixed you.
temporarily.

there was complete solace in your eyes, you could breathe again, feel again, laugh again, enjoy again, cry again, dream again, living gave you misery, yet ****** bore you life itself.

do you remember? cause i remember. how you said there were flowers blooming from my skull.
no mourning lilies or winged roses, but a cornucopia of smiling magnolias, swollen tulips, and drugged poppies, you told me i was beautiful.

what a fond summer slaughter it was.

“he caved in your head to fill the hollowness in his heart. but you are nothing more than a fleeting memory now.”

-AugustusSea
Part I in ****** is an Art Series
author's note: please know that i do not actually condone ****** or the like, this is merely an artistic view on the subject!
Ordeezy Mar 2018
I thought I could be strong for you mama
To endure the pain and drama
The countless whips on my naked body
The tears that flow all night.
I wish you could read between the lines
To hear my soul whisper the pain I felt.
Why couldn't you unveil the beast you cuddled daily?
Each night the crescent moon floods my room
I would watch joy and happiness flee from me
Each night, my dignity was stolen, my heart broken
My soul ripped apart but I couldn't scream.
Did his gifts blind your eyes to your child
Did his lies taste like sweet wine?
Did my truth taste like bitter kola?
Did my tears make you aghast?
Will I die in silence? Night after night.

By the time you read this
I'll be in my daddy's arms
I'll tell him the horror your love committed.
Pay attention to her pain, her tears and her unspoken words.
Drunk poet May 2017
I heard the sound gongs
That echoes vehemently through
The dept of my solemn soul
The call, of which I must answer
O crier! Bearer of the voice of the ancient ones
Calling unto me, to come have a seat amongst the ancestors.
.
I fear that I might be gone
Too soon to give thee my " adieu "
I fear that you might be the hands to wash me in my death
I fear I might be gone!
Far gone to share in your "kola" and "palm wine"
Oh! I fear that My lands,barns,wives and Concubines would fall in your hands after my Exit from this naked world.
.
But I would smile
When my soul gazes down
Seeing myself in the round circles
Of your unending presence
I would dance to sweet dirges from you lips
I would smile when your heads shake for me
My cheeks enchanted with laughter in the tale
Of your ignorance.
.
For now, I decide your fate
Of your dreams I now have a tale
Your voices,I a carrier
The ancestors seat now my dwelling.


Balogun David Tolulope
(Drunk poet)
Yenson Mar 2019
In the square of the hanging palms
where the white sands sifts softly underfoot
and geckos and lizards know to stay away
the elders sit in quiet contemplation chewing kola nuts

Come, you son of tomorrows for its time
Soon you will go into the forest to find your mettle
for the Night of a thousand whispers beckons
where you will meet the headless warriors with three legs
and the talking calabash will ask of you where bravery lives

You will traverse in honour grace on your own
for now the hills says you are no longer a stranger
and your hand now reaches over your head to your ear
you will get a sheath for your sword and the armlet of a deity
that holds the charms of all the braves who wore your blood
know that the tears of your mother was shed only at your birth

You are a son of the land made of water and lightning
Sango gave you heart of fire while you drank the milk of tigress
before the oracle it was divined that your road leads in frontage
go resolutely with the cured spirit of the blazing sun at noon
remember some days ahead you will walk alone, its ordained
walk wisely like the tiger with the sleight of the regent beast
Know that in your river blood flows the tales of the unvanquished
the tenacity of the lynx and the ****** of your sword cleaves solid
go and do not look back, your path is true and  the Creator sees!
Drunk poet Jul 2017
It's been over two decades
Since I was evicted from my mother's womb
Naked I was, like the world herself
Clothed with tragedy and couples of disdemeanor
.
I become one of the grasses
On which two elephants vindicated
Suffering from the friendly smile of the sunlight
And the  fair hospitality of the wretched moonlight
.
Then my thoughts sat me down
I know about poor luxuries downtown
And big fishes now drowning in Mississippi
Hmmm.... Vague world with little clarity!
.
But news came to me
Like hurdles and puzzles of past years
A place beyond the moon and the stars
Where I will **** from golden *******
And listen to tales from the  mouth of "countless kola"
.
Balogun David Tolulope {drunk poet}
©️2017
IG*acedadrunk_poet
Henry Akeru Dec 2023
In the land of Igbo, where stories unfold,
A soul bears burdens, both young and old.
"Why always me?" the heart does plea,
In the rhythm of life, a poignant decree.

Beneath the palm trees, where breezes sigh,
Ancestral echoes in the crimson sky.
Through the hustle of markets, tales untold,
The query persists, a narrative bold.

Is it the weight of history, a heavy chain?
Or destiny's dance in the pouring rain?
In the dance of kola, where traditions blend,
"Why always me?"—a query to comprehend.

Through the bustling cities and village lanes,
Resides a spirit resilient, amidst life's strains.
In the echoes of language, a melodic plea,
"Why always me?" in the Igbo symphony.

Yet, amid challenges, strength does rise,
In the tapestry of struggles, where hope lies.
Through the echoes of ancestors, resilience we see,
A vibrant spirit asking, "Why always me?"
The Struggle of a grossly Marginalized Igbo eastern tribe of Nigeria.
Pre par godina, izlazim iz kuce i upucujem se pravo na pesacki prelaz.

Na prelazu onako po pravilu pogledam prvo desno, a odozgo ide taxista, cini mi se usporava, a iza njega jos dva automobila.  Mislim, ako taxista stane, mozda ga ovi iza zaobidju. Nije bas za prelazak.

Pogledam levo, a odozdo jedan jurca kao da ni ne vidi da je u blizini pesacki prelaz. Mislim se, kakvih ludaka ima, ne prelazi jos.

Pogledam opet desno, taksista se zaustavio, a ovi iza takodje. Mislim, mogla bih sad, samo ovaj sto jurca odozdo da prodje.

Pogledam levo, a ovaj sto je jurcao zaustavlja se ispred pesackog, sta mu bi?

S desne strane prilazi otac sa malim detetom, 2-3 godine drzi ga za ruku i videvsi da je ovaj stao, gledajuci samo ka njemu, zakoracuje da predje ulicu.

U istom trenutku okrecem glavu ponovo na desno, a odozgo stvorise se niotkuda kola hitne pomoci koja jure bez sirene. Hvatam brzo coveka za rame i naglo ga povlacim  unazad, i u istom trenutku kola hitne nam prolaze ispred nosa.

Tad shvatam zasto je onaj ludak stao, ne zbog pesaka nego zbog hitne pomoci koji su iz suprotnog pravca jurila u njegovoj traci.

Nakon toga prelazimo ulicu, a otac iza mene se smeje, zahvaljuje i dobacuje "znaci ovo je onaj vic, ...sreca u nesreci".

Uzvracam mu osmehom i nastavljam svojim putem i dalje smejuci se u sebi sta mi se desilo i sa jednim lepim osecajem da sam nekom mozda spasila tog dana zivot :)

*mh, Decembar 2016
The world is a plain sheet
That needs to be arrayed
With morphemes, words, sentences and languages.

The world is a war field
Where we do not array bullets in riffles
But inks triggered by our heart
Through a ball point pen.

The world is a market place
Where we batter calligraphy for bread and wine;
Like trading kola-nut for cowries.

The world is a grave a tomb, an open sepulcher
Where the flesh and souls of man is laid;
Doctors, Philosophers, Engineers, even I, a literatis
But I have aforetime immortalized myself. I am a literati.
Johnny Noiπ Nov 2018
William Wisconsin Williams, Thomas,
Tom, Jason, Germany, France, Italy,
International Music Support System.
Tom Dasha Yellow? Animals 9 and Pets.
Ahak (1200) Star 1 According to the News
News, Moses and his men, Color, ***,
mind, mass invasion of Invalids APN flag
Now all are available in Australia, Kenya,
and Kenya. But the stars, stage poets
and music.
Men, women and women;
Men's shoes; Gardens and friends'
shops Gin is not happy. William Wilson
William, Thomas, Jason, Tom Germany,
French and Italian Music
Support system. Kola dosage
Thomas Peltton? Animals
Animals 9 Endurance (2100). Five
stars July, the show in Germany is Seir
Audio and Death player
***, heart, golden, people,
Falsehood, lying,
Now all are available in Australia,
Kenya, and Kenya.
But the stars are stage poets and music.
Sand, soccer, golf
Black and white. Men's clothing,
women's clothes
New icebox. List of bikes, men,
youth, For example, a mother.
William Wisconsin Williams,
Thomas, Tom, Jason, Germany,
France, Italy, International Music
Support System.
Tom Dasha Yellow?
Animals 9 and Pets.
Ahak (1200) Star 1
According to News News,
Moses and his men,
Color, ***, mind, mass
Invalid APN flag
Now all are available
in Australia, Kenya,
and Kenya. But the stars, stage poets
and music. Men, women and women;
Men's shoes; Gardens and friends' shops
Gin is not happy. William Wilson
William, Thomas, Jason, Tom Germany,
French and Italian Music
Support system. Kola dosage
Thomas Peltton? Animals
Animals 9 Endurance (2100). Five stars
July, the show in Germany is Seire
Audio and Death player
***, heart, golden, people,
Falsehood, lying,
Now all are available in Australia,
Kenya, and Kenya. But the stars, stage
poets and music. Sand, soccer, golf
Black and white. Men's clothing,
women's clothes; New icebox.
List of bikes, men, youth, For example,
a mother. William Wisconsin Williams,
Thomas, Tom, Jason, Germany, France,
Italy, International Music Support
System. Tom Dasha yellow?
Animals 9 and Pets.
Ahak (1200) Star Star 1
According to The Giants Cicero,
One, Moses and all the supervisors,
Color, ***, mind, bulk Invalid APN flag
Now all are here in Australia, Kenya
and Kenya. But to the stars, the band's
poets and music. Men, women
and women;
Men's shoes; Gardens and friends' shops;
Jinn is not happy. William Wilson
William, Thomas, Jason, Tom Germany,
French and Italian Music
Support system. Kola dosage
Thomas Peltton? Animals
Animals 9;  Endurance (2100). Five
stars     July, the show in Germany is Seir?
Audio and Death Player
***, heart, golden people,
False Feet, Now all are here in Australia,
Kenya and Kenya.
But the stars, the band's poets and music.
Sand, soccer, golf
Black and white. Men's clothing,
women's clothes; New icebox.
Details Bicycles, Men, Youths,
For example, for example, mother.

William Wisconsin Williams, Thomas,
Tom, Jason, Germany, France, Italy,
All Help Program. Tom Dasha's yellow model?
Animals 9 Me Pets. Star (1200) Star Star 1
According to The Giants of Cicero,
In addition, Moses, and all the leaders,
Thank you, lady, APN failed
And there are all in Australia,
Kenya and Kenya. Stars, songs,
and songs are like. Men and women;
The shoes of a man Farming with friends;
Jinn is not good. William Wilson
William, Thomas, Jason, Tom Germany,
English and Italian languages
Support support. Kola
Thomas Peltton? Animals
Animals 9 Hope (2100). Five years old
In July the German change was Seire!
Continue to die, ***, heart, gold, people,
The lies, strings, And there are all
in Australia,  Kenya and Kenya. Stars,
songs, and songs are like...
Papa, soccer, golf Black and white.
Men's clothing and women's clothing
New box boxes. Details of strength,
men, children, For example,
for example, the mother.
Babatunde Raimi Nov 2019
If you want the sauce
It's home sweet home
I shall carry the wine
From the iconic palm tree
But you must see my people
The Umu Nwayis and the Adas
"Igba nkwu abia go"

You want total package
Pay the price, for the prize
First, come, declare manifesto
Not as politicians of our time
For Amadioha judges instantly
Then, Nnayi shall be officially informed

"Bia kuaka n'uzo"
With an original Ibo kola
That which does not understand "oyibo"
And when I say "Yes"
Your kolanut will be accepted
Giving way for "Iju ajuju"

Come with dry gin and gifts
More kolanuts and drinks
The Umunna awaits my King
The one that tickles my fantasy
Pay the "Ugwo ishi Nwanyi"
I can't wait to bear your children

Now that we are here
"Igba nkwu Nwanyi"
Let the town crier sound the gong
Come wine, dine and merry
When the wine is in inside "Iko"
Even if all lights in the world goes numb
Your sweet fragrance will lead me to you

I see the glow in your eyes
Still as enchanting as our first meet
Nothing else mattered
As I danced towards My "Obim"
They called and beckoned
But my heart belongs to you

Drink my love, drink
Drink from my breast of life
For therein you shall drink
For the rest of your life
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Johnny Noiπ Feb 2019
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— The End —