Characterized by corrupt affairs
Brave minded individuals eating deep into our fears
It might not be hard if they are all in parts
Investing evil deeds expecting in invested shares
Everything hikes up above Kilimanjaro
Names of detriment, now pride, a rich man is now Barawo
It’s all mixed up, the good, bad and ugly, the masses are the Jango
Masses pray to God for a deliverer, evil ones offer thanks to Sango
Architect of our own misfortune
They play the drums; we sing & dance to the tune.
Then we accuse them of being evil,
but we fail to realize that each time we look in the mirror
we actually see the devil
We deny the part we play in all this
Ones we are at the top, we forget heavenly bliss
And want to be as occupied and hot as hell
They pay us to actualize their thoughts and never tell
Yet we accuse angel past of leaving the Host
But we fail daily when we abuse our post.
They make sure there is a yearly crisis
Fuel pumps up and fuel pumps change prices
We forget that at earlier times we had plans
To be the one to rescue man, from hunger pangs
Our innocent thoughts conquer lands
But now our emotions are left in the lost but founds
We bury the pity we feel within
We want to travel abroad and visit Sweden
Our pity drops, our self-mind falls like Ikogosi
Warm leaves, cold sets in and then we change policy
Yet we blame angels that fell
But how well have we faired
Do we still post our emotions on Black Market for sell?
Or we want to search for a grey area in an Old Man’s beard
Enough of what I call metaphors
The tear in my heart actually pours
Are we not still fallen like angels?
Who left that throne and came to earth like the scripture tells
Are we still standing on our feet?
or blaming angels for falling to defeat.
Sitting in this noisy Oblivion
Slow and Steady I wonder if the music is Celine Dion
Overridden by my emotions
Wondering at God’s amazing creations
It’s all silent but I still hear crickets
Sagging trousers, timbers, suite or a waist Jackets
Looking outside where I stand in the open
Shooting stars don’t actualize glory that have fallen
I have a confused mind well arranged
Scattered thoughts that can actually be managed
Amazing grace, sweet sounds but all is still silent
The warfare in my mind, so much blood, but not violent.
I discover that there is no proper alignment
Many questions pop in my mind, I only feel one
The answers to it is the question I ask from time to time
How did Babel intend to reach God with just a tower?
The oblivion in my mind that is sucking power
As noisy as it seems I still hear Silence
Call me opposite minded, but I am present in my absence .
I am the object of Ridicule
In an area were wealth is at its pinnacle
I am what they want to call me
I come in little sizes, there is hardly any tall me
I am the test lab of Cholera
I eat what you don’t want, Typhoid Malaria
Do I really have a choice?
After all you feed me because of the weakness in my voice
I do not even have to worry about excess Calorie
Because I am Almanjiri
I am free bonus for ritualist
Excuse for religious optimist
I am tug of war, for political fanatics
And to keep my stand with God, I might end up a Jihadist
I roam around longer than your network
Emptiness is how I live, Ignorance is my net worth
I enjoy the looks of pity
As I invade traffics in the big City
And when someone is nice beyond pretty
It automatically means something is fishy
Nature and good luck are the ones who pay me salary
After all I am just Almanjiri
I am the Irony of my name
A student who knows nothing but the cane
But you see I learn a lot
I learn about how humans can hurt
At times I am unable to reach were I call home
So, I sleep anywhere cement can feel like foam
Who cares if I am sexually assaulted?
By men through whom God’s divine order has been insulted.
They creep into me in my nights
Offering me nice bites
They come back in their flashy cars
And creep unto my cement bed and commit alters.
But who cares about my secret injuries
After all I am Almanjiri
I am a debate in government houses
But of course they are the greater forces
How would they feed their God’s?
Who will they give their Guns?
To who’s behind will they shove their secret scepters?
On whose blood will they build houses in hectares?
Don’t get me wrong
Not all sound the evil gong
But still not all sing redemption songs
Some just come to send and give us knocks
I am supposed to be a student, if I am not wrong?
Well, welcome to the school of hard knocks, I have survived these long
Sorry! Not in life but in history
Because I have an attachment of religious chemistry
I know nothing of the Hail Mary
But I was taught to hate, moreover I am Almanjiri.
BIO: Jesse Falodun was born in the ancient city of Kano in a family of five. He is a
graduate of Mass Communication department, Kogi State University, Nigeria. An
on air personality at Fusion Fm. A poet, spoken word artist and writer. He has
written several poems and recorded 5 spoken word piece. He is a motivational
speaker, song writer and producer. He has produced and directed several Radio
Dramas one of which is “Unity Square’’ on Fusion Fm 91.7 fm. He is currently
working on publishing his first book titled MAROON WATERS.