Yuletide Groan…

Once,
we tumbled beneath
the tender sheets
fused in dark nights
lolling on waves of passion
for a fleeting moment…

Now,
my place is plagued
she flees like the wind
fickle teasing fever
i make no tearful plea
just flushing my bowel…

Oh!
a crimson card i get
for yuletide…i guess
maybe a valedictory shot
at our cadaver romance
sure she got one too…

Though,
our fling flung too soon
a price i still can pay
for my heart yet hovered
beyond the deep dark depths
of cupid’s blind delirium…

Awaken!

For the first time
I break our
timeless embrace
hold you at arm’s length
twirl you around
squint at you
shut one eye then the other

For the first time
My eyes desire to see.
Let the dusty photons
flood my cones and rods
and fill my monochrome vision
with the blinding spectrum
of rainbows and sparks

For the first time
My senses come alive
my hackles rise
with the vengeance of a phallus.
I tingle all over
my afro become spikes
on a Nigerian fence

For the first time
your voice rings
across the gulf
of my tumultuous consciousness
cracking my screen
as it echoes endlessly
and quakes my being

For the first time
my jaws fall apart
a burning coal on my tongue
breaks open
the dam of words within
and let flow freely
my soul like a waterfall

For the first time
I look at you and see you
I feel your deep yearnings
I listen to you and hear you
I speak to you from the deep within.
For the first time
I awaken to you

Amorous Zest

This is a poem that i wrote awhile ago…just tweaked it a bit and here it is…Hope u like it!

The blasted sensations
that rock my groin
at the sight of her gyrations
makes me tilt at the loin

I kick myself hard
for my assumed folly
yet her waltz round my yard
crumbles my resolution wholly

She knows my torture
i know she knows
she taunts me with her posture
her haughty smile and nose

she enjoys my glare,
does a swagger dance
in the ambience of my stare,
and oh! i loose my stance

My fibre now fired,
i set out for glory
in her arms acquired
to rapture endlessly…

If i die…..

If i die
think not first
that the breath of life
was refused access
to my nostrils
nor that my heart
grew weary
of playing its sad song.
For i live life
as life should be lived.

I walk a narrow path
a fog in front
darkness behind
gingerly i step forward
because i must
yet it seems
I move no further.

I wish to leave
my footprints
on the sands of time
but the ground beneath me
is parched and scorching.
For every step i take
my underfoot
bears more
the insignia of life.

I try to be merry
every ones in a while…
Dance alanta
Make love
Give alms
Get drunk
Sing songs
Share a joke
Do a good deed
Jump in the rain
Roll in the sand
Give a hug
Steal a kiss
Laugh out loud

I try to find meaning
every ones in a while…
Read
Argue
Work
Lead
Worship
Save
Fight

Still i arrive
at this same site
of raging whirl,
emptiness and anger.
I grunt
take deep breaths
and join the vicious cycle
yet again.
I know my destination
still i trudge on.

If i die
I wasn’t killed by death
NO!
I was killed by life……

THE MORNING BECKONS

Push!
Argh!
The rising call and response
Echoes down the hall.

My spine freezes
Yet my sweat boils
My bladder never seems to empty
Though the showers never come.

The dark cloud of dusk
A looming omen
Taunting the miracle
That I die to behold

Her sweat rains
The pain…Oh! so dire
Her strength fades
Tick by tick

Tick…Tick…Tock
The night shrinks
And the tiny force of perpetuity
Peeps and push

The morning beckons
The world summons
With a push and a shriek
A child is born…

Love For A Week

With you as arrow
and pain the bow,
cupid shot a sting
into my weary heart.

My doom-laden premonition
about our rock bound romance,
a frail fortress
against the desire to indulge.

I strived against fate
wrestled with reason
for a fleeting moment of bliss
the thrill of a consuming fever.

It lasted so long
seven dawns and no more
i oughtn’t feel a pinch
yet i drown in tears and liquor.

Flicker

Harmattan hammered
we groaned and whimpered
moaned and shivered
head to toes covered

Heat hit
we hit a strip fit
sizzling to the hilt
so stained, our quilt

Downpour poured
we ran, vision blurred
drenched and splattered
coat soaked and battered

Patter or crackle
our glee is fickle.