Inked Tongue

  There is a strong strife between the aroma that your cooking body gives and my humble concentration  For the concentration of your scent has overpowered the concentration of my mind Now my attention span is left staggering and pleading for mercy Hoping that you can tune down this lethal effect that your ethereal body produces  And it baffles me Because why would you choose to bathe in a river of ethanol when you know how much its effect from your steaming body intoxicates me And now, I only see blurred lines Skeletal images dancing in red light and my libido shooting to its very apogee Maybe your ethanol is lethal  But I will forever consider it my favorite guilty pleasure.

There is enough energy to harness from a ripple.   I watch her swing like a pendulum to and fro in a convocation of celestial beings.   The rhythm to her pulse is the only yardstick for measuring my patience. I let a butterfly take my nectar in exchange for the secrets to her courageous adventures.  Fly away once, Come back again Isn’t it a good time to pause at one end and marinate in all the bliss there is here?  Pendulum,  I hope this axis you have chosen to swing from will hold firm till you come to a decision. I hope for your sake, I won’t wither in my moment of waiting. Do you think I can freeze time when you swing by my side?

  At the end of the battle, the vanquished shall give out a loud cry of innate pain For the tales of fatality of the havoc wrecked on them shall spread to all the lands like wild fire But the end of a single battle is not the end of a war An army approaches With tongues of fire on their foreheads They swing their blades in the air They chant war songs In their numbers they pour out into the battle field Tall, short, young, old These were the soldiers that the old sages had pre-described  That the sounds of their footstep shall cause the stones on the land to quiver That the neighing of their horses shall cause the hearts of their enemies to shrink in fear What is the fate of those who refuse to surrender to this ravage? Their blood will give the soil a new face And their flesh will be  a  dancing banquet for the wild vultures A hand has been forced to dish a blow to the oppressors  The vanquished will now becom e  the   dauntless They shall plunge deep...

Cries are heard In a house anointed by a precious blood A child is born The first king of Efon Alaaye kingdom lives rent free inside of him OBALUFON ALAAYEMORE A child is born The greatest chief of the estate called Ejigan lives rent free inside of him. GEORGE SABA GEORGE A child is born. SABA, OBALUFON. I gist with them, I dance for them, I teach them english alphabets, I wash their feet I oil their head, I feed them meat and palm wine I sit at their feet They tell me secrets, Yes secret codes to the golden vaults of forbidden knowledge and naked truth Wake up George, Wake up George SABA, You made it. For you are reincarnated in the body of a boy who drinks from the breasts of tigresses and dances to the chirpings of the birds in the evil forest.

  It 5:15am  I have just experienced what it feels like to be a ghost.  I laid on my bed about an hour ago to sleep but as my mind rolled out of consciousness, I felt a tight pressure on my chest as if life was slowly leaving me.  I could swear life left me for an hour or more.  I suddenly felt disunited with my body, as if a part of me was expunged and forced to stay outside.  It felt so cold and alone and dim and scary I looked around and everything remained the same  The furniture in my room all staring at this incident like it’s not in their place to do anything. Oh wait, it’s really not in their place — they don’t even have a place —they can’t do anything.  I yelled and yelled as I try to find a way back into my body. I could feel energy leaving me — leaving this thing that might be a spirit.  And there my mortal body laid on the bed, so peaceful, so fulfilled. I honestly wish i could leave it be—without the thought of experiencing a gru...

She said she got soft juju in between her thighs I gave a smirk knowing I was made for black magic  Juju that makes men fly in dark skies Fly away Peter, Fly away Paul But they always crawl back She said her name sounds like a ripple  “KOKÙN” I will never forget  That very night, I drowned in something that wasn’t a river  I danced to spiritual humming and ate food that was consecrated for shadow men She gave me an experience that tested my faith And for once in my lifetime  I swore to only feel the warmth of dreadful women with cowries on their hair.