Garri,
My strength when I am weak,
The hero of the less.
Even the rich carve for a taste
We savor you with great haste.

Garri
The pride of our hood
In company of the ice
You need no sweetener
Your sourness gives joy.

Garri
My true love
Well fried and dried,
Then complimented with any nuts,
I come to you with my bowl!

Garri
My best friend
With tens of naira
You'd love  a poor man with dignity
Living with him with no shame.


Garri
I have come to bow with my bowl
Bless my cup till it overflow
So that even when I blow,
You and I can still roll.


Title:GARRI.
S. O sther

I believe in Garri
The holy son of Africa
Who was conceived by our toils
Born of the ****** Cassava
Suffered under the grater
Was suffocated in bags, died and buried
He descended into hell
On the third day he arose
And is now seated on the Centre of the frying ***

I belive in Garri
The savior of the lives
The defender of the weak
And the universal mother of all

I miss the place of the rising sun;
For nothing makes my hair stand here.
No one to sing me my very ‘oriki,’
Nor the slightest ‘se dada loji?’

I miss the place of the ‘gangan’ beats;
For no meals shakes my tongue here.
No one to make me ‘efo oni kpomo’ with ‘iru,’
Nor the slightest ‘garri’ of ‘ijebu.’

I miss the place of the ‘aso ofi;’
For no clothes touches my sight here.
No one to tap me that very ‘emu oguro,’
Nor the slightest good-sauced ‘eja odo.’

For if not for the clarion call,
Oh! let ‘egbe’ come take me home,
With the real speed of ‘monomono.’

Oluwatmilehin Adejumobi Alabi

I speak of Friends, I speak of Foes
I bathe in circumstances with the soap of Woe
Like the pains of a woman in labour my spirit Bellows
Like a rock cast into the sea my mind is drowned in my Throes
At peace I was with myself like a gentle Dove
Like a baby I slept in my secure Abode
G‎entle like the wind was the personality I Drove
Transparently clear like the heavens Above
The 'Devils' came disguised in their Cloak
To extinguish my light with their thick suffocating Smoke
Fed me with fear till my throat began to Choke!
I was almost absorbed like Garri left to Soak
But for the love of the Father over my Soul
And the prayer of a Mother over her Own
In my whole being the seed had been Sown
There 're people i'm glad I know and some I wish I never had Known.

Did I tell you, what the poet told me?
He said my hair was longer than that of Rapunzel,
He said I was fairer,
Than Snow White
And even prettier than Cinderella.

Did I tell you, what my poet told me?
He said he would be the only Prince Charming,
That gets to wake me up from my beauty sleep.
He said he would raise dragons, from their ashes,
And make me the mother of dragons.

Oh! My poet says nice words.
He paints beautiful images
As he drinks his garri
He slays words in his house able to contain only himself,

Oh! My poet uses words to take me on trips,
The last time he opened his mouth,
I found myself in Dubai.
He goes by the pen name
"slayer of words"
Is that even literally possible?
Am I dating a poet?
Or a liar?
What's the difference?
I don't know
But my poet says beautiful words.


©Nalli
#thinkinginwords

Garri and groundnut issues,
Nonsensical palaver,
But what's the matter,
With eggheads pretending not to be coconut heads?

NO SAINTS IN PARADISE

Paradise here i comb over sea and lands  seeking your kind,
Racing and gazing at wobbling ways to wonder.
Days that weren’t numbered weren’t plundered
From a world drenched in word: lords sinking their gods
I have seen a mad man thanking a drunkard

Before the cap stole the law the barrel snatched the cap,
Paradise crippled like desire meddling with the anvil of greed
Is there no seed in this slumbering heart of Africa ?
No saint in paradise no gain in cowardice no sacrifice
The walls are not the same the boys all want the game

Baba mi’s , raising his pride his milk his talking drum
In Paradise where oil streams like honey valley, Baba mi’s pride,
His daughter's ****** tearing the eye of wanderers in awe,
Their ***** and buttock pulled prophecies from white prophets
Calling for days and deeds: glories in glimmer of hope.

Mama mi is this the cattle papa milked? Heroes loopholes
For “Thou shall not judge” was the song for the solo:
Paradise  diabolical with plundering voices of canker worms .
Exploring her guts, before the eye of wailing youths,
No gold as Garri cements her staple in our belly.

Wiggling tickling and stagnant in the echo of progression,
Paradise craw in the shadow of worthless saints
Harvesting the labour of our fruit
Even motifs hides behind the bar

Such crass hypocrisy,
Coming from high society,
Blaming nomenclature,
For their inane nature;

Calling a pig,
A bad dig,
Just to roast it,
And save your own meat;

The movement has responded,
Just as the street would have wanted,
A total boycott of your brand,
To garnish your garri with enough sand.