BLISSFUL DAY (A Poem)

And the girl came near my car window
Looking charming; smiling like a widow
I smiled back at her holding back my tears
In a controlled rage i told God all my fears
I reached into my pocket to buy her wears.

I do not need it but i must show i care
Lest i die and God shows me HIS fire.
Tell me why, oh why, we worship our desire
Leaving other souls in agonizing despair?

I know someday we shall answer our deeds
Regardless of age, colour or spiritual creeds
I know someday we shall stand on heavenly weeds
To smile so less, in trembling fears; as some of us weeps.

Oh Lord of our blood, save our souls; make us smile
Oh Lord of our bones, take us along paradise isle
Oh Lord of our soul, take us along righteous mile
Oh Lord of our life, kill our greed and inner vile.

Before that day comes, Oh Lord, show us Your way
Show us the majesty of your mercy and Heavenly ray
Touch the hearts of our kings so we can dance in Your sway
Make it so our children get a new deal: to visit no sick bay
Make it so every day is none but a blissful merriment day.

I close my eyes only to see them dancing; holding sweet creams
In joyful laughter, they run through Your garden; in “belleful” screams
In praises to Your name, the parents sat across heavenly streams.
I woke up to pray to You: Oh Dear lord, make it real as seen in our dreams.


Ali Baba Yakubu
27th May 2010

WHEN WILL OUR OIL DRY? (A Poem)

From the serene air of Plateau hills
To the creeks of Rwanda and Niger Delta wells
Up to the plain lands of Savannah dunes
Comes a clarion call to shut up the hurtful wails.

From the protruding stomachs of ageless folks
To the skeletal legs of corpses on aimless walks
Up to the anguish of an expectant mother
Comes a clarion call for all of us to bother.

More than ever before; life is now valueless
More than ever before; life is now meaningless
More than ever before; wealth is now priceless
More than ever before; love is now worthless.

At the call of devilish instincts
When mortals should be in their precincts
Arson, destruction has become the latest fashion
All carried out in the name of indigenous preservation.

When other nations are going to Venus
And forging colour-blind-anti-racial nexus
"Wei" are still embroiled in senseless warfare
With gluttonous rulers: allergic to being fair.

Enmeshed in myopic miasma, the rulers corner the common wealth
By using tribal whip to share mirage: while looting in steady stealth
As they loot and share, no one echoes tribal beats: as the plan is in health
But when it goes awry, they promote arson, genocide and wanton death.

When will our oil dry
So the masses may cease to cry
When will our venom dry
So our wishes will surreal fly
When will our hatred dry
So our smile will remain not wry
When will our tears dry
So we can dance like surreal Sly?


Ali Baba Yakubu
11th August 2010

WE SHALL NEVER DIE (A Poem)

Late at night when sweet cold set assail
They cuddled up through a heavenly sail
And then God says "be" and we became
As we became when our daddies came

Just a droplet into mummy's tomb
She exploded with his blissful bomb
One month, two months, may be up to nine
We troubled her as we swim in our Nile

And then God says, "This is your destiny day"
With reluctance we set sail into a wacky ray
It was blistering cold, with joyful eyes gazing our way
But much more than that it was a day we shall live to pay

From age one, up to sixteen, our bodies starts to shape
With us hard guys looking at babes, albeit trying to gape
We crave to live in heavenly bliss in share finesse and ecstasy
We crave to be loved by our opposites in dreamy joy of fantasy

Just when life’s joyful promises came full bloom
Regardless of age, class, fame or in gloom
God will say once again, “This is your destiny day”
With reluctance we shall dance, this time with hurtful sway

And then we start another life; under God’s light
Where we each will face HIS awesome majestic might
Where we each will account for our wrongs, albeit right
For some of us it is day time; while to some it is good night

In all of this we shall never die; but take a trip to another life
In all of this we shall never die; but take a trip with heavenly wife
In all of this we should be wise; as this life is so much vain
In all of this we should be wise; as this life has no such gain

I treasure the day and the world wide way, I met you all
And I pray to God, when we meet there, may we dance in heavenly hall
But for now take my hands, dance with me, smile with me
But for now take my hands, dance with me, dream to be


Ali Baba Yakubu
http://www.alibyvisions.blogspot.com
26th March 2010

The Beast Called Man ( A POEM)

Have you ever paused to think of that creature called man?
Have you ever posed to link up with wisdom of Solomon?
Have you ever paused to recognize an idea so uncommon?
Have you felt the need to sometimes sail: on and on and on?

Take this ride with me as we discover the human beast
Who sees himself as though a prince on a jolly daily feast
Who feels no frill to savour the weaklings; to quench his thirst
He is a vampire; with a demonic heart obsessed with selfish quest

You could see him smiling at you: but never deep down
You could see him shining so cool; but he wish you go to drawn
You could see him living with you; but his wish is you leave town
You could see him admiring you; but his wish is you frown

He is a beast called man; who knows not how to tame his flame
He is a beast called man; who knows not he is not but to blame
He is a beast called man; who knows not all humanity is the same
He is a beast called man; who knows not that trust is not a game

I stood still to recall visionary greatness of legends in the days of yore
Who traversed global climes leaving behind timeless inspirational awe
I feel a spasm of tears flowing through my heart; as I recall the masses we owe
I know someday the beasts amongst us will melt in molten volcanic ore

But before the judgment day may we cleanse the beast in all of us
So much so that our greed pours out from our hearts and body pus
May we be cleansed so much so we sing songs as children in school bus
May we be cleansed with remorseful fears as though facing a galloping horse

As I reminisce the beauty of this universe I feel the fact that hope is not lost
Only but I tremble when I recall the vastness of our selfish lust
This has made us bundled, and doomed to a priceless cost
The time is so apt and ripe to eject the devil from being our host

I reclined on a cliff as I took a ride on the majestic wings of the Almighty
I looked at the vastness of this earth and felt awe on its beauty
I can’t help but shiver on the power of HIS heavenly majesty
I now have to urge you to kill the beast in you to douse the devils fantasy


Ali Baba Yakubu
12th April 2010

To Share My Poetic Thoughts and Articles Check Out My Blog:
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JOS: WHERE IS GOD; WHERE IS HOPE

And then the bloodletting continues without any end in sight
The children's blood mixes with the soil and the mother took to fright
What a shame once more twice as we slaughter our kind
What a shame once more twice as we threw care to the wind
For, in the name of vengeance, devil takes control
In the name of vibrant hate certainly heads will roll

I stopped watching the clips showing this madness
I stopped watching the clips showing no kindness
I stopped watching the clips showing no finesse
I stopped watching the clips showing this coldness

Where is the peace, where is the love
Where is the breeze, where is the dove
Where is the fist, where is the glove
Where is God, where is the hope

Time was when Jos was prime in the mind of visitors
Time was when Jos was pristine in the quest of victors
Time was when Jos held awe in the memories of mortals
Time is now so Jos is forlorn as we reflect over worldwide portals

All the actors made mistakes in various instances
While the Muslims were careless in their stupid utterances
Why should we call them "anne", "kafirs" and expect to live in peace
Why should we deny them space in our lands even just a small piece
Why should we become so rich and yet fail to spread peace

But then in the other hand, who is to blame for indigenous destiny
But then who is to blame when hedonism hold sway in joyful symphony
But then who is to blame when search for fun is so strong instead of industry
But then who is to blame when successful indigenes help no single infantry

Time has come for retrospection to end this craze
For in God's mysterious ways He made it so we represent our diverse race
We should know in our hearts no land gets developed without strangers
America became USA because of the power of diverse Springers
Let the hate take a ride on the back of a heavenly dove
Let the hate become replaced on the springs of heavenly hope


Ali Baba Yakubu
14th March 2010

MY PILLAR; MY RAIN

I came to this life gasping for breath.
You held me close and prayed for my weakling health.
You mused on me and prayed that I grow in bonny length.
Through the mercy of Lord I play every day in the beauty of heath.
In your push and God’s will I swim in bliss and so much wealth.

Through the years; through so much pain
I have lost not much gain.
Through the heat and life’s plain
I have found there in you, my pillar; my rain.
Nothing you gave me ever went; never went down the drain.
They are stuck right in me when I reminisce in my brain;
I adore you mummy; your life was never in vain

In solitude I shed tears;
But in my heart I have no fears;
For I grab your God’s spears,
In this life no enemy dears
Through your will God sure hears.

My mummy; my chummy
You sold me no dummy
My mummy oh mummy
You made me warm-homely;

The very day you were gone
I felt I was shot with a den gun.
As you lay in your home, recall you are my precious love.
I see your face in the skyline; in my heart there above.
When in need of inner peace, I play your words and your dove
I see your smiling face when I do things aright
And I recall your scowling face before HIS sterling light
Insisting I maintain the right and be so bright;
What a life oh mummy: forever shining snow white!

Today in my prime through your wisdom and ways, mummy I stand so tall
They always sign me up in search of clear ways, and mummy I speak to the hall;
They marvel at my free flow in concert with what you have done
In my mind I thank our Lord for the wonders though you have gone.
Adieu oh mummy smile to me till we meet
Adieu oh mummy sing for me dance to the beat
Adieu oh mummy you are alive in my heart

Ali Baba Yakubu
20th March 2009

TRACES OF HUE

We were destiny bound zooming sky high in a human bird;
The brain child advised all to remain glued to our seat-bed.
He ignited speed and propelled the sky bird afloat.
And then I reclined backwards to admire the sky boat:
From a distance I could see boxes of human habitats.
As we go far off the landscape we became far off the huts.

Suddenly I could see the beauty of God’s dexterity;
Sprawling across the skyline is cloudy complexity
Yet in their formation and gait is gallant simplicity
Oh, what a splendor to behold to mortals in tranquility
Devoid of noisy pollutants and our stupid superiority
Which, at this altitude, can be discerned as mare inferiority:

There is no place on earth where you can feel similar magical wand
Even though afloat you can feel the power of His mystical Hand
Oh, what a beauty to see clouds beneath you; around you and above you
Oh, what a beauty to inhale the freshness of this clime with the traces of hue
Oh, what a wake-up call when the clouds jolts your bird in its wake
Rushing through the blindness of the dark clouds can only be for destiny sake.

In this scary scenario only but after the jolts are over that we heaved relief
But when thunder and lightning goes on we all had to resort to our belief
At last we escaped the angry cloudy mixed grill
We just must remembered that no destiny unfolds without a drill
From a long distance we could see green lands and sleepy hills
Beaming with smiles we know destiny has paid her dear bills.

With nostalgia I recall the wonders of the magical hues
Just like a landscape awaiting the input of hungry hoes
But traces of hue is abound even here on ground
For all mortals are undoubtedly destiny bound.

Ali Baba Yakubu
18th March 2009

RYTHM IN THE AIR

RHYTHM IN THE AIR
There is melodious rhythm in the air
Raising my lethargic spirit, conscience and hair
The message of which only but wise can hear
Oh, what a day to witness this gain to bear
Alas the day to rejoice has come so near
Why not be bold in dancing without fear
The future is far but its vision is visibly clear
Everyone should come including my foe, my dear
Arise and shine pick all your tools including that gear;

Today the rhythm has changed into a melody of game
Only the brave and bold will stand up to fame
At which we should keep fit and heal up our lame
In this day, the cripple and the fit are but surely same
Only if he stand up to the beat of the rhythmic flame
In the world of same compare we can’t help but be in shame
If we fail to wake up from the miasma of hedonistic dame.

Oh Africa, why not change this dance into a global sway?
Why not wake up and feel the dawning sunny ray?
Why not gear up and formulate fortunes into our masses way?
Why not instigate the populace to hold sway in sunshine and hay?
Woe onto you pretentious leaders for shoving our smiles at yonder bay
Woe onto you for being the only ones maintaining happiness without pay
Oh what a pain I bear every day everywhere even as I pray gay

The rhythm I hear is not of happiness but a dirge
Of a dying soldier exposed to a compulsive binge


Ali Baba Yakubu
19th March 2009

Nostalgia: Where Is Our Old Tin City?

I recall my Uni-Jos days with palpable nostalgia. I recall taking long walks in blistering cold in my jeans and T-shirts. I recall touching the clouds as i stand on the balcony of our Naraguta Hostel. I recall my Jambite days and all the promises of great days ahead. I recall the riots, tear gass and taking food "without." I recall the joy, the laughter, and the ambience of love amongst my circle of friends. I recall the sweet potatoes, the cabbage, and Irish potatoes. I recall the flowers, their scintillating fragrance and the beauty they exude. I recall our sweet Tin City with its promise of greatness.

What a shame we see today as our brothers kill each other. What a shame as we witness human progress in other climes: while we retrogress to the lowest level of human dynamics. What a shame that some nations are plotting to go to Mars while we are worse than dogs. What a shame that today, rather than cementing brotherhood, we are bent on sucking each other's blood. What a shame.....What a shame....

I remember towards my last year on campus telling someone a gloomy prediction that Jos will explode one day; the person looked benumbed as did not know what i saw. But even at that age in my early twenties, i could sense hostility even when concealed. As a liberal youngster then, i mixed freely with both “Jasawa” and the indigenous tribesmen: I could feel their anger, fears and misgivings. I could sense something amiss even though there was friendliness and relative peace. But still there was a looming apocalypses awaiting ignition.

Time has come for all to know that the volume of water that has passed under the bridge will never come back in the same state. The time has come for both parties to take a retrospective appraisal of their stance on the issues in contention: The time has come for the leaders in plateau to reduce the poverty level which is ravaging that clime to enable some sanity to set in. It should be borne in mind that blaming someone for your gloom will never lift u up; rather you will fall and live in a self inflicted eternal doom. Both parties should wise up: we all need each other.

FIELD OF GOLD (A poem)

FIELD OF GOLD
Stretching across the horizon is a threshold of fortunes
Where tin gods scramble in audacity through mountain dunes.
Bereft of play rules reward inspire muse tunes.
Selfishness, man slaughter are the rules of the goons;

Acting as zombies, they are careless about the other mind.
They collect pristine artifacts even but from our baren wind.
Nowhere is safe in their quest for the booty goods.
You may think grave yards are sacred but not to our tin gods;

In the chaos of their mad rush masses live in pain,
Gnawing the peasant’s hearts, they focus on pure gain.
Knowing that life is complex albeit so purely plain
I watch them in awe marveling at their plan: so vain;

Welcome to ebony land; the age old field of gold:
A place for servant- kings, coquette-queens, and audacious bold.
A place of weakened, servile masses left homeless and cold
A place where dreamers in their prime are cruelly, peanuts sold;

Welcome to the motherland of native and ancient civilizations,
Welcome to the raw sweat that enhanced modernizations,
Welcome to the land of the living, the dead and the unborn.
Welcome to the home of hopeless, conga and trombone;

Day in and day out we celebrate our fate shedding prayerful tears:
Praying that one day a hero would wipe off these tears;
But when that day comes, we shall all take up our gears;
And make this gold-field awash with assorted pricy bears;
When will that day come? As I tremble in caring fears.


Ali Baba Yakubu
18th March 2009

My Mummy's Palm (A poem)

MY MUMMY’S PALM
She was an enigma in my innocent mind,
But now a princess in my adult sublime wind,
She made me stand up-front and never behind,
HE made her so hard and yet so very kind.

I pray the love she gave me was never so lost.
I lay indoors so rich, turbo charged at no single cost.
No amount can pay up her priceless feelings,
For even in death, her memory ignites my wings.

Her palm was my whip, my balm and my spring.
In the coldness of night she circled me in her ring;
Praying I should wake up warm and ready to sing,
My legs might barely touch the ground, but then I was her king.

My mummy’s palms had circles deliberately not made.
When cuddling leaves to be dished, forth comes bleeding red;
With a smiling face and a grin she used to suck the redline away.
Every day in her time sacrifice was her way.

I shed bountiful tears; neither of sadness nor regret;
But tears of gratitude to Almighty for a pillar so great.
This I feel, though we are destined: poles apart.
But I know someday we shall be one and never to part.

In the kingdom of God memories do stand still.
But I will recall to our Lord how she molded my will into a steel.
And today even though heavenly apart, I stand on glory hill;
Basking in her prayers and due diligence to her age old will.

I smile every day I replay my mummy’s palm;
For when I stumble and fall and set redlines afloat,
She call no ambulance or any emergency boat,
But set out to work to heal my pain through her motherly balm.
Thank you mummy;
My life is sunny.

Ali Baba Yakubu, 18th March 2009