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Ifedayo Oshin

A Future for the Girl-Child

Start her up with school
She’ll end up in tower and power

Give’em to teachers
They’ll show them light and right

Let her go to school
She’ll come home lawyer and engineer

Give her education
She will bring you honor and favor

Start up on the streets
She’ll end up in shame and blame

Give her to husband
She’ll bring you dowry of cowry

Leave her on the street
She’ll come home raped and abused

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What a woman is not...

She is a woman
Cool calm and collected;
If placidly, she tugs and lags
Like a sheep behind every successful shepherd

She is a woman
Sweet, simple and soft
If she has a voice –low and faint
Like a maid in the midst of masters

She is a woman
Blonde, big busted and beautiful
If she lays the bed and her body
Like a mother –cow in the hands of a milkmaid

She is a woman
Educated, enlightened and enthroned
If it’s all practiced in the kitchen
Like an eagle flying in a cage.

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Not A Suicide Note

NOT A SUICIDE NOTE
This is not a suicide note
Yet not a melancholic fate
I do not die
Even so I look and lie
Check my pulse
For I live in this verse
And in many more you shall find
Scribbled of my fingers, bind
By the want of inspiration
All night I stayed action
For love of poetry
I made time grow weary
And for the sake of rhyme
I denied the due of time
But if I do not rise by morn
Please care not, nor mourn
For surely as lives this verse
I live larger, longer than the universe
So if you find this piece

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Give Me Back Myself

“Underdeveloped, Developing
Third world, IMF field of play
Debt burdened, disease ridden”
How dare you brand me
And call me names?
Names my fathers never called me
Give me back myself
Un ravaged, unraped
Unscrambled, unpartitioned
Lusty, strong and healthy self
Pristine, pure virgin body
Give me my hands uncallused by sugarcane plantations
My unbended back
From centuries of unpaid labor
Oiling the wheel of industrial revolution
Give my youth
My proud and black youth
Before your wanton lust and violent rape
Give me back myself
Before you took me unconsented

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The Priest With A Saxophone

he came, his sword unsheathed
like his forbears in -deed
cutting through thickets of injustice and oppression
he plunged deep into
the hearts and the heart of corruption

he came, a priest in lyrics robe
made an altar of music
he called forth saxophone
horns and drums did his bidding
lyrics, rhythm and harmony were his adornments

imbued with power of music
he cast off cassock of white lily thoughts
and embraced the gourd of black wisdom
necklace of cowries adorned his neck
he pulled down frontiers and fortes
of imperialisms and all isms

he lived Africa

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Will Change change?

1.
What will happen to change?
Will change change as all things?
Or will it develop immunity
And embrace hypocrisy?
Will change resist change
And go against its doctrinaire?
Why, will change change not
Should nothing be permanent, even change?
Since change is also a thing.

2.
Our world changes daily by seconds
Our lives in the roller-coaster of time
The noon gives way to the moon
The dawn turns dusk
At intersections of these:
One enters, another exits
One moans, another mourns
One rejoices, one regrets

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Escaping gamut of gobalisation

Escaping the gamut of globalization
found a haven in the cradles ofcivilasation
on a lone noon ride
i rode on a lane by the countryside
savannah anthills in unison rise
with towering trees and other soft greenies
in festive and feverish dance mood
to the tunes of gentle storm
that makes mockery of
the blazing heat of the ruler of the day
foliages, branches and leaves
gathering dust, gathering momentum
for a crackling regenerated transition
at a wet cessation permitting a cycle time
of dryness and browness
on the lone lane, lone noon i ride
through Shapade, Ode-Remo, Iperu and Ilisan
A gentle rider and reluctant bike
and a healing gentle storm
my companies to a humble destination.

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