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339 · Jul 2017
Oluwatosin Jul 2017
When dirt becomes a dye
no one has to tell a joke
people will naturally laugh with the hyenas
Howling and hiccuping
before they tear into grimly flesh.

They’ll talk to one another
in fits and starts.
Spotting stains on mopped tiles
Their tongue, the hammer of the judge,
stripping the “sanitation agencies” off
their robe of service.

Their society gradually becomes an appendicitis
It's streets drowned in *******
But it won't really bother the people

Until the day the fat maggot chokes on sewage

Then they'll gather together
And wonder what just happened
Copyright ©Ogunmola I.O
23rd June 2017
117 · Dec 2017
Oluwatosin Dec 2017

Every first hour of dawn.
In the torn gut of this town
Limpid whales pout wine bellies
and weaklings die. Alive.

Gray spaces on walls
mark the remnants of family names
They brag like moist tags
tale soaked,

The South wind
so gravid with echoes barely blows --
murmurs can be heard in the night-filled day
like wails from a thousand hounds
howling away in travail.
The nights have no moons
Only stars
govern the light.

Ah Idiogbolu! Wake up from your slumber
The five founding fathers who set-out at sunset
tripped and fell beneath the oak!
Their houses, haunted, stand uninhabited till date
the roofs rustle still,
hard with ghostly tremors,
When the dead visit and find no one home.
98 · Sep 2017
Oluwatosin Sep 2017
Dazed in a maze
I am reborn
As a husk of corn.

I see the clouds pour coal
Into my liquid cell
My points are now poles
I can surely tell.

In my home
I'm a wall strung visitor
With conciousness bound
To unspoken sounds

Here I feel homesick
As I tickle the sticks
Buried in my own skin.
© Ogunmola I.O 2017
89 · Sep 2017
Oluwatosin Sep 2017
We live in a society where
Juvenile justice gives gillies
To "hunters" chasing walking fishes
No baits, no hooks, just guns
Bang! and we get plucked from the pool.

We ain't their prey
But we are to those whom they pray
We ain't for food
Yet to them
We are invaluable goods
Our every slice carries a unique price.

Some of us are lucky
As their bullets bounce off
Our scales and hit them
Right in the leg
Breaking their bones.

A few days later
They are back with ammo boots
Hunting again.
© Ogunmola I.O 2017
86 · Sep 2017
Oluwatosin Sep 2017
I saw beauty sway like a pendulum
In a fabric peephole.
Gentle, naive and sheltered
A cute masterpiece for the cute little ones
Sheltered in a comfy oven.

In that slipping moment
I felt warm on the outside
But burned on the inside
As the memories sealed in me.

She didn't know
She only stretched her hand forward
At the counter.....
To pay for her drugs.
© Ogunmola I.O 2017

— The End —