The Fool-Ani Damsel Poem by Tosin Abegunde

The Fool-ani damsel

While as a forsaken destitute
Parading a stinking paradise
Where misery blows breeze:
Of terror, horror, and pains
With my mobile polymer mat
Under my arm, I wander
Aim-less-ly, the metropolis of
Labour; beneviolence; solution
So, to make both ends meet,
Foolani damsel gave me hope.

The 'God-forsaken-idiot', I
Soak cassava flakes with tears
That runs through my cheek
Cemented with my mucur
Aid with African brown sugar,
Foolani damsel gladly meals it.

When in the street beaten up
With scars of revenge on me,
My bruise she soothe-balmed
To relieve me of my agonies.

Daily she says no more sorrow
I, then, ignored beneviolence,
To seek spirit of benevolence
Alas, no sooner had I found it
Than it cracked, me, my nuts.
O' what a companion she is!

With candour, foolani cares
Something made of nothing:
The man in, and the man, me
Two too sweetened bitter pills
Sold into the rush men market
As a commodity of the season.

Who says she is not worthy:
Be pampered; worshipped?