On Twitter, late at night, you’re a big tough guy
calling people out and spitting in their eyes.

But in the real world - you blubber and you blunder,
like inside your head there’s a fire in the dumpster.

Your call to drink Lysol was a typical, deadly, Trump proffer -
your handling of the pandemic an incompetent slaughter.

In the face of unrest you pour fuel on the fire -
a dead BLACK man? You're a trouble amplifier.

Texting on Twitter you’re a liar and a punk -
when trouble breaks out, you hunker in a bunker.

You’re America’s undertaker, our commander-and-thief -
a living, breathing catastrophe - leading America disastrously.

A Life

Let's follow each other.
On Twitter.
Let's follow each other.

What can you handle?
What's your Twitter handle?

Let's follow each other.
My brother.
My sister.
Let's say one thing or another.

The season has changed.
We are here.
Dry Season is here.

In our midst I feel its presence.
The weather is nice.
It makes sense.
Dry Season comes with ice.

Guessing around the hills in solitude,
I realized the droughtiness of the soil.
I cleansed my body with olive oil.
I overheard the songs of a lovely bird from a high altitude.

Away from the constellation of the stars,
I saw the moon standing in jubilation.
My childhood memory came to visit me when I was reciting my morning meditation.
“Oh!, I said, let me go meet a planet called Mars.”

What a life!
Where is Niel Armstrong?
He traveled to the sky; he was strong.
Where is...?
He did that.
Where is...?
He did this.

Beautiful and ephemeral.
Is life.
Live it today: it is your era.
Such is life!

Adamu Danjuma

I am here. Whilst you're laughing in your ferris wheel of glamour and glittering lights
Laughter so loud, you brandish names from your garish encrusted adverts. Notice me


In the midst of the battlefields of gargoyles, trolls, copycat thieves and twitter fights
People call you vile names and comment on your growth I was always there. I am here


When you're out dancing with boys sunbathing on yachts and take private cars and flights
As you work your way through a list of names of temporary love affairs. Notice me

Though your follower and disciple count multiplies to great saturated heights
They want details and secrets, they want your undivided attention. I am here.

We didn't create this hateful game just
Notice me! I like everything you do

You can't tell who's real, who you love or trust
Which will expose you and watch? I am here

I exist
Acknowledge me

Sun 6:19 PM
Sent

One long endless night passes yet again,
Never mind counting sheep, I’m now counting flocks.
The days blur into dreams of classics...
I am Ahab, and sleep becomes my whale!

Countless twinkling lights mock me through the open window
Judging me from their perch in the night sky above.
I eat another bowl of meaningless carbs,
Hoping the article on my Twitter feed wasn’t just fluff,
I load and reload the harpoon, as I miss my shot time and time again.

I fade again. Woozy now. Eyes slow blinking...
The whale is smiling, it's tail flipping, and mouth all grinning, stabbing teeth. I fire and miss.
He laughs, ignoring this, and drenches me in ****.
He flashes me a toothy grin as he disappears underwater.
He isn't coming back.

My bed becomes a porcupine.
My pillow becomes a stone.
My blanket becomes a sheet of burs woven by the Norns.
My eyelids become coarse-grade sandpaper.
My back becomes a banshee screeching in pain.
My legs become restless deer who sense a nearby wolf.
My hair begins growing perversely inward.
My bladder becomes the Trevi Fountain in Rome.
My thoughts become the last horses running the Triple Crown.
My heart becomes a double bass playing Skeletons of Society.

He appears again, far away from my ship, head turning in the distance, pity on his face.
He turns back toward the open sea and is gone.
I perform a complex horizontal maneuver
That CNN’s Dr. Gupta said soothes "The sleepless body at night".
(He’s a ******* liar!)

The melting white whale becomes a series rectangles above me,
They form a drop ceiling,
With sprayed-on popcorn, and unexplained little holes
That provide me with a giant connect-the-dots ceiling!

WHEN suddenly a shrill, repeating, soul-crushing
Cacophony wracks what little sanity remains within me, trapped in this never-ending, soul-crushing trap of mind-numbing numbidity...

It's that God-forsaken, three-inch square, , ***** capitalist *******-of-a-red-blinking-*******-of-a-heartless-mother telling me it’s time to start a new day...

******* alarm!

I still haven’t finished the last one.