Game-Boy Poem by Olufayo Ezekiel

So sweet the tune
And the active actions of the game.
In his pride; love is good,
but bed is best.

At dawn;
You see a black girl coming out after yelling.
At noon;
He bed another for lunch.
At twilight;
He makes a short one moaning.

Game-boy on adventure;
After one, he's still counting,
The numbers of skirts he robbed,
And the counts of legs he raised.

A sweet talker like tortoise;
Vowing an heaven in his hell.
A king pounder,
That pounds all mortals in sight.
A good schemer;
That paddles the highest tides,
With a big banging bait to hook his
wanting fish.

Game-boy's heart has no abode,
His mobile has comic names;
Kenny Sunday, Tope Monday, Jumoke Friday and others.
His trouser has no zip,
His cutlass has many faces,
And his tricks has no limits.

Like a referee wielding a red-card,
Like an elephant grazing grass,
Like a fire chopping a forest,
Like a battle field where soldiers tangle,
Where Game-boy plays,
The memory will lingers on.