Turning taciturn  the gassy churning of a stomach
From eating nuts , and only vegetables
The cornmeal too lumpy
For the new suspicious roundness of the body
That buttock that rolls with each step.




Who is greater , touched , sensed , reasoned?
Getting going before it gets too late
The scrap of metal against stone
That set off tiny sparks flickering briefly
Before a disappearance




In the past so warmly
A feeling of a rush of weakness to the leg
That look up and down , one had forgotten where they came from
So foolish , think you are a big man




Master in the room , mountain greeted
How are you people?
Turning the radio on I see
Focused!
Humans as Angels , sometimes devil or Satanic





Hungry, finally ate yam , mama boiled
Men in high , swindlers in low
Those that seek to keep the country
Permanently divided remain in office.
Tribalist’s  , the nepotistic .
Make the country look big for nothing .
M

A thousand lost words slender arms
Take your choice  from a glass change first
Of water the drowned inside
Over the kitchen a starry sky
What is wanted is sensed first
Where has that woman gone
Singing with a cleared throat
A wrapper to wipe the sweat
From the brow puzzled in the armchair
For the first time how unloved things were
In the house a frightened little boy  hiding from his mother
A choice to brush the humiliation aside
In the name of over exalted intellectualism

In a good mood tear gas suspended for a while vultures hovered overhead
Rumpled shifted shredded orange peels into a *** of sauce
The hairy skin of a goat , rather than the meat
The patter on the zinc roof
The rain cooled air
The mosquitoes flying around



Of tear gas talked about whoever kicked one another
The grove by the stream too young to understand

I carry them everywhere I go
Away to England
How can I leave my children
And run to  safety?
Men, women gathered surprised
Under an ancient Udala tree ( Star Fruit )
Of their battles over the fallen tree its fruit a taboo.
A fruit to the spirits the shadowy outline of a spirit
The senseless war , hoped it would end soon
For quarrels we do not look for
But when your quarrels finds us
We would crush you
We never run from our homeland
Bumpy dirt roads lined by tall grasses
The marshy roads
The looming three  story a country home
Near the thatched fence
At the white and dark lines  elaborate curves
A piece of ( Nzu ) cleanser to the guests.