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