Michael Oluwasegun Adesiji

I smell the rod,
It smells so bad.
I used to be a free bird
Before I came, behind this bar.
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My friend! My fiend!

The little I have, we spend together
Either good or bad, we are both in the weather.
...

I have had times
When I bake poems all alone
I have been heard
Speaking on the street all alone.
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The wounds never heal
They bleed still
Not from my thighs
From my shattered heart
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While you await the show
Of my shameful end
Like a dough,
Upon a well-bleached oil
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Where art thou! Where art thou!

When I was paddling
The canoe of life
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I am Almajiri

The rallying bee
To the food vendors
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Everyone stares
At the trembling beads
Sparkling from the end
Of your springy spine
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Men call this mourning
But, it is the morning
Of the first day without you
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Twenty Ten Twenty

Flowers singing deeply
Flags turned windy
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Eyes may go bloody
Dry nostrils watery
Palms taking turns of rest
On the fore of an emotionally busy head
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•The Talking Drum•

Beaming in the crystals of joy
One called cowries the palm's soulmate
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There are birds of your age
Who still sing in the nest
They live by the day
They care less about the next.
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•Murderland•

My motherland bleeds
To the stings of snakes
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•The Journey To Stupor•

I will drink away the pains
With these gourds by me
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Babies were crying like babies
Birds like birds
Though, mosquitoes were them
And rats were rats again
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Should I call her a robber
Or maybe a smart lover
I think she's a work of art
With a sound skill for theft
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Take me to Canaan
The land full of milk and honey
Let me feed from farms
That grows fruits and houses
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My girl is gone with the wind
But nothing about her will I miss
In her place,
I have got my loyal bottle
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•Paroxysm•

If I cease to live
The one who will cry the most
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