Queen of the kingdom
The heart of Sàngó,
Giving Sàngó courage.
Sàngó's betrothed
Oya,
Goddess of wind, tornado,
Yet the owner of the marketplace.
Queen of all seas
Creator of lakes and rivers
The waters knows your name
Goddess of storms
Orisa of death and rebirth
Oya,
The mother of nine
Oya,
The undergoddess of Odo-Oya
Oya,
The unbeatable warrior
Oya,
The summoner of rain
Oya,
Sàngó's princess consort
Oya,
Thou who walketh through fire with no burns
Oya,
Queen of courage
Oya,
Goddess of speed and energy
Symbol of faithfulness
Goddess of devotion and perfection
Oya,
Goddess of war
Oya, our fiercely warrior of old

Written Tosan Oluwakemi Thompson

It is cold.  The white moon
is up among her scattered stars—
like the bare thighs of
the Police Sergeant’s wife—among
her five children . . .
No answer.  Pale shadows lie upon
the frosted grass.  One answer:
It is midnight, it is still
and it is cold . . . !
White thights of the sky! a
new answer out of the depths of
my male belly:  In April . . .
In April I shall see again—In April!
the round and perfects thighs
of the Police Sergeant’s wife
perfect still after many babies.
Oya!

No going back
We will defend our pride
Our heritage
Our fatherland
Not with guns, powder nor machetes
Not with armoured carriers
But with powers ancestral

We will visit Egungun Oya
The god of divination
We will invoke Mawu
The god of the Sun and Moon
Have you heard about Babalu aiye?
The god of infectious diseases
Let the games begin

Omoluabi oooo! Omoluabi oh!!
"Bo ba d'ogun; ko d'ogun"
Where is Sango, the god of thunder?
"Gunugu ni oruko, ti an pe Ifa?"
"Okalamagbo ni oruko ti an pe awon Iya oshoronga"
"Abiamo ki gbo ekun omo re",
"Ki o ma ta si were"
"Oya, Amotekun oooo"

When the walls of Jericho fell
How many bullets were shot?
They stood on their father's faith
How was Judah and Jerusalem taken?
The red sea parted by the word
We too, shall speak the word
But now, the words our Ancestors

When the centre can no longer hold
Surely, things will fall apart
"Omo Yoruba, ronu"
Enough! No longer shall our lands be desecreted
Cast the cowries in the calabash
Let us inquire of our gods
Shall we pursue and reclaim?
Ready, set, "Amotekun dee"

Babatunde Raimi
Author/Life Coach/Poet
08178827380 & 08035063895

GBEGBELEKU
GbeGbeleku can never dance, the tune of bata seem silent too his feet, his dansiki made of the grate aso oke says no to the wind when she blows.
Omele from the rear thunder boldly whom changes the steps of men and takes them to the surrealistic world seem powerless in his ears.
Gangan the hopeful one a lion of sound 
who speaks the truth to the one with the gifted ears
Giving the body strength like never before, with saworoide he gives his cap,  still he gives no interest.
Oh Oh my sekere with your million babies you make no difference
To the company of truth.
Oya on the chirot of the gods tells me you lost hope in humanity
But you I ask if not for anything at least for the strength used in invoking the gods take a step make that change.

A Poem: "Amotekun Dee"

"Kere oh, Omode gbo. T'agba gbo"
"Oba ni kin wi fun yin oh!"
"Amotekun deeeeeeeee"
"Eyin omo Odua, ee gbo mi bi?"
"Irorun de, omi tun tun wo lu"
"Eyin temi aji lala osho. Eyin Omo okun Esin"
"Won ma sare kabakaba"
"Mo wi re, tabitha mi o wi re?"
"Amotekun deeeeeee"

We will block the gap and protect all and sundry
We'll patrol with Eagle eyes
It shall be "No nonsense here" in our region
With robust intelligence gathering and network
And we will proceed with extreme caution
Within the ambits of the law shall we operate
There shall be no sleep for the wicked

Peace, it has long eluded our lands
We have been invaded by uncircumcised Philistines
But not anymore, "O to geeee"
Who else knows our terrain better than our locals
You got a pass mark my Governors
And I am proud to be "Ofe mmanu""
"Ejo, ema je wo ni owo osu oh!"
Lest they begin to see friends as foes

"Amotekun de...Oju eje...."
"Iyalaya gbogbo won"
"Koni kaluku di omo Iya re mu.."
"A ko fosi rara nile Odua"
"Awi fun won ti ti, won jo gbo"
Odua a gbewa ooo.
"Oya, awon daaa? Gbefunwon kososhi"
Why carry guns when we can enchant them?
We have been pushed to the wall
Our hands on the plough, no going back

"This one no be se re se re"
"Omoluabi is a talk and do"
We stoop and let them trample on us"
Little do they know we are fooling the fools
Those who thinks they are fooling us
Watch it, we can be cunning and deceitful
But when it comes to our collective goal
The bond that binds us strong
And our walls, a mighty  fortress

In a nutshell, "Ki eku ile gbo o"
"Ko si so fun to ojo oh"
We are regional and not tribal
We will listen before we judge
We will treat all fairly as our ancestors did
We will not allow the "Cobra Effect" permeate Amotekun

This, we all know, is peace at last!
Passing Amotekun bill is a legislative masterstroke
For all who saw this to fruition
May "Eledumare" grant you all your "positive" heart desires
"Mo wi re, tabi mi o wi re bi"
Amotekun deeee"

There are seven you know.
Seven hues,
Bright with meaning.

Grey and red,
Colors of grief,
Mourning and remembrance both.
A cry and an exaltation.

Black and gold,
Colors of truth.
A blade in hand,
Seeking justice and vengeance.

Green and blue,
Colors of ethic,
Steadfast in one’s work
Mind on responsibility and consistency.

And then there is orange,
Shereshoy, you call it
You Mando’ad
Reveling in life on death’s edge.

There are seven you know
Yet none fit
And so you pick your own
A hue for you and you alone.
You pick white.

Stark, harsh white
Clear, visible, no means to hide
Nor intent.
White of ivory,
Of the gleam of Mando iron,
The white of bones,
Old, picked clean
Reminder of life
White so bright, brilliant
Burning eyes of the dying
Leading them back home
Back to the Manda
Skills in hand.


You pick white.
White for death,
Of death.

You are white.
White for death,
Of death.

Ja’haili, ner Buir.
Ja’haili ner oya’kare.
Kar’tayli ni ijaati gar bajur.

Invisible current whispering , tapping me on the shoulder then screaming , Oya's dominating the dawn in her fiery gown
Windows thumping , porch chairs bumping ,
thunder rumbling , tall pines touching , cattle running
Water Oaks were shedding , horizontal wind chimes were flailing
Sheets of white lightning flashing , needles flying onto cars ,  junk from trash cans flying over well houses , pole barns and pickup trucks  
The stormfront is passing , Mother Natures heaving breath is taxing , I'm off to bed part two , cracking the window to hear the sprinkles , adding a blanket , snuggling with a pillow , bits of rain tapping hypnotically , back to sweet
Wednesday morning unconsciousness* ....

A Poem: Bros., Wey You?*

Bros., Wey you?
I hear say your game tight
I wan hear your market
You no need to drop shekels
I just wan help you

Come make me reason
No cone form Asari for me
I no be Orpkorpise oh
Na lashing things oh
You know now!

Abeg make you do pem oh
Na white sky I go take come
Make your name dey your neck oh
Preye say you Gallant dia
Oya, make we enter yonder

Make you walensh well oh
Dem no dey use shame drink poison
I see you, I see heaven
After every don kpomkpi
Las las, we go dey alright

No worry, wetin be suya
If I want make my mouth dey busy
I go just dey blow whistle
So you no go provoke
Know say Lasgidi Erema no fit

When I finish with you
You go know say devil na area boy
Na God be Godfather
Kpata kpata na draw
Warri Erema no dey carry last

I go soon bracket you for Effurun junction
Before omuta go enter
No time to check time
This motor dey delay my destiny
I don dey reach your crib

My temper dey rise now
And I no fit use am boil rice
Afterall, no vero for maternity ward
When I work you finish
You go hear alaba

Today, he no get as he be
I go run your matter wella
I know say you go make sense
Abeg, wuna gi mi cold shack for di side
Nothing dey happen

Babatunde Raimi (c)
Author/Life Coach/Poet

When some man tells you
that you don’t’ belong here
and that you
should go back to where
you came from.

Go!

Take your soul back to Africa,
to Palestinian paradise.
Take it as far
back as
possible!

Go!
and call
upon your ancestral
Goddesses.

Call upon Dhat-Badan,
who is the wild goat,
sure-footedly roaming
craggy territory.
Who, in the middle
of the desert
of disdain
helps you find
an oasis
of respect.

Call upon Lilith,
who read
the devil’s face,
and walked away from him.
Same as she did
from
abandoned Adam,
who was ignorant towards
the devil’s dangers.

Call upon Oya,
whose natural passions,
curse up a storm
That makes men’s world
shake.
Who takes up her
sickle of truth
and cuts off
all rotten crops of corruption.

Take the upper hand,
trust your feet
and dance upon rainbows after a storm!
For that’s
where you
belong!

I got my ancestral DNA results back
Was reminded I was born a thousand times
I came roaring on a song from the volcanos throat
The wind gave me my name
I am a skeleton of branches and stone
Held buoyant by the ocean’s womb
Her salt still lingers on the taste of my skin
The base pairs of my double helix
are fire and air
earth and water
You can trace me back to the serpents tongue
Enticing Eve’s rebellion in that garden
I am the first womb’s blood shed,
the first ever rain.
I am every spirit that crosses the River Styx
I am the boat, the ferryman, the afterlife, the now
My body was once four legs,
Fur and howls
I could smell the blood for miles
I am still controlled by the waxing and waning of the moon
I hide with her when she is new
I have been the predator
My teeth have ripped apart the hearts of Elk
I have been the prey
Spilling my insides across the Savanna’s floor
I know the language of mycelium
But I am no better than the maggots that emerge from decomposing flesh
I have been them, too
And I believe they have a wisdom so sacred
For they have consumed everything
My father forged me by fire
His love lives in the blue of my eyes
In every life
My mother sang me to sleep
Her voice gives shape to the curls of my hair
When I look at my reflection
I see my grandmothers
When I dance
I become my sister
And when I cry
I remember I have been born a thousand times
Just like you-
You who is the first breath of dawn,
And nightfall’s lover.
You who is the flight path of Eagles
You who is Oya’s lightning and her storm
You who carved hieroglyphics on the Rosetta Stone
You who is all of us
Who is me
You,
Who has been birthed a thousand times
And will be a thousand times more