After reading Tolu’s Cosmic Justice.
I am fire that’s cold and scorches,
I lurk in the open, dance in the open.
Let the cane rat burrow deep into the soil
I strike deeper, deep into the
dark abyss of Okun.
I ignore not the shallows, I shovel into
mansions in the alluvial
and make them into morgues.
Let the squirrel climb further up the Iroko.
Let the eagle soar towards the summit of Kilimanjaro.
Let man plane into the sky.
I strike beyond the headquarters of the sky god.
I visit prince,
I visit pauper
And I take them both on a visit
through ant holes to my hallowed abode.
I am that blind stare in the sharp pincers of a decapitated
I am the wine that kills the head of the Sallah ram; and charges
him against the Alhaji.
I am that red in the eye of the bull. I charge matadors to a
I am that disinfectant that tickles a demented cockroach.
I separate the babalawo from his cowries
And blinden the Seer with my sneer.
Yes, I’m that sneer in the potholes on your roads.
I’m here and there.
I sit on hills in Afghanistan and rest my back in America;
I beat my bongos in Bakassi and strum my bass guitar in Baghdad,
in mystic symphony.
I am older than the Tower of Pisa; gravity is as old as me.
I was the quiver in Pharaoh’s beard.
I could swap the Statue of Liberty’s torch with a Kalashnikov.
I can put a tinge in the eye of a Saddam Effigy.
I am the D in Nunc Dimittis
Does that sound … Poetic?
I could be a Poet,
I could be a Muse,
Or make muses.
I can make music,
I can make a bunch of broom out of you.
I can induce piety.
I raise my foot and the earth quakes;
Hurricanes and whirlwinds are my sneezes.
My yawns cause planes to plummet into the navel
of the earth;
And cause you to pray,
To gather up the husks of your unity.
Lest I forget,
You die and I die;
You die, I don't die.
I am Iku,
The Iku in Abiku,
Who never dies,
Who is indifferent to decency.
I take the, if you like, lavatorist.
Unconcerned if the putty is halfway or two-third out.
I imprison the prisoner,
Judge the Judge . . . What else? . . . Hmm