segun Johnson Ozique

Happy I am you no longer would be hungry
Happy your sacks’ today are laden with gifts
Happy the road to home no longer is weary
Happy all that has come to you pleasantly a lift
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Ogbonna Amadi, a storm landed FSAS Sokoto the hurricane;
A pinch fleet-footed boogie lad of uncommonly indulgence;
Announcing in triumphant trumpet, his name; Dusty Rhode.
Successfully initiated at the Federal School of Arts and Science,
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I unbreakably meet a savoured in briefs
Looking to next meet in fond memory
Hardly ever seen the fairer in convene
And not for what it was, is and should be
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In dreary and despondent season
Of non-stop troubling drizzles
To desert ray harassment,
A soothing shade
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The pen on paper in flowing words
Saved me from whom I turned:
Shackled bones, turned skeleton
Staggering through dark corridors.
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Surely, we've all heard and read; of
Many written of; first citizens with great deeds,
Starting with nothing to crafting something
Great men and women who made value of boldness
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As the world recline, eyes closing, feet up
Grows an enterprise couched to dehumanize being
Spinning sugary coated pills made to hack, devalue
Identity: Churning tales of wisdom in mould that
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In the first instance, beautiful-vent of devoutness
Tagging along through bad times, the good and hell
Spending hour reminiscing common binding mundane
Hearts deeds wise head considers absolutely nonplus
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Water like crystalline
That is colourless
Colourless, tasteless
That we drink
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It is not only
The things you care about
That thug at you
But now and again
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As the sun marches on, shortening shadows
Smoothly they come with the fading light
But soon raves and rant fill the air
Signalling the start to the homo-sapiens fish feast
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The men; early a.m., smashed,
Mostly bent, dry-wet monsoon moulded
Their tools; knot of grey, yellow, swarthy;
Sinking, parts above water, mouldering,
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In times of yore, then in the days of our teens,
Owned a friend who, an okapi, named Bala Fanz.
Oft disappearing with all sorts of oily girls in jeans;
I was not of same endowment, courage, but fancy.
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How I long for lost times, unfulfilled;
Time I spent waiting, expecting, hoping;
Long infantile nights of wakeful dreams:
Days spent imagining twosome on a beach;
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Come trudge with me in jumble rubbles

Layers of construction erectile greed
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Two in cosy and beautiful enclave
Sensuous music for company
Yet through the tone-dazzles
One voice slice through
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There would be some as me so bold

To challenge the taken statusquo
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Your place, your pinnacle pose,
Still prevails deep in my heart
Your hanged, pleasing picture;
The chic of its elegance forever
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