Tuesday, July 31, 2012


I have run!
Never to come back
Into the scornful camp
Which I never see
A hideous camp like.

Deceiving innocent mind.
Love in eyes,
Hatred in mind.
Ironic is the line.
Of the 16th century poet:
"Young men's love then lies
Not truly in their hearts
But in their eyes."
Young ladies' love lies
Into their eyes not in mind!

One takes one a dull
About the hidden plot
Or the inner thought?
Is she psychopath
Or antithesis of that?

Adieu for now!
Oh! My deceiving friend.
The tiger that clothes
In an ewe-like skin;
I'm vigilant for your disguise.

I ran away,
The way a rabbit
Runs into the lurking hole.
That knows its death comes
When by seeing a marauding wolf.

Now safety met me per se.
I would rather die
Than to go back
Where the deception lies,
And again I say bye!

MY RELIGION (a poem)

Some believe fully in you,
Others deny you more,
As illusion and tyranny,
Many embrace you more
As saviour of humanity
From the crises of modernity.

Could I be wrong or right?
What could be worse than
Denying your true self?
What could be more abysmal than
Disregarding your worth.

Without you, no more peace nor mercy,
Nor affability, secirity or affection.

Truly, without you, astray all we'll be,
The symbol of equity you stand,
Prosperity, blessings you all bring.

I wonder why they discard you,
Or are their eyes blindfolded to veracity,
Or, their eardrums barred to the truth,
Or may be undesirable whims shut their hearts?

I can't say but either of those fiends.
Life beauty is seen in you,
Ideal society, I understand, is you.
Oh my champion you act vigorously,
The stationary and dynamic role.

Actually you guide folks:
Jinns and men you glow,
Peace, love, and purity you dispense.
Aversion, violence and terrorism you excoriate,
Hush! You are but peaceful peace.
Your antithesis are other things.

Embracing you is a garden field,
Rejecting you is nothing but catastrophic burning hell.

THE OLD WAY (a poem)

The old way is now back,
Like a long time missing beloved.
The new way is deformed
By denying its vital chore.

The old way has just
Repented and reformed,
Saying: "by-gone is by-gone."
And seeking my hand in vow.

The new way now decided
To give its light to bastards,
Whose light already faded;
And whose aim is orgasm.

The old way is more
Beautiful, erudite and charming;
Knowledgeable, cultured and refined.
Its beauty, wow! Till you sight.

Blurring is the new path,
As its light faded for rogues.
And now ruining to death.
By those rascals and junks.

Oh! My old way, be calm.
Your apology is welcomed.
I'll renew you from ruin,
And rename you to new.

A NEW WAY (a poem)

Two years in love but to no avail,
As though in love with corpse in morgue.
No accord nor approval or appease,
Leaving me on the zenith of torture.

Trouble I was in those years,
For the love of the ulterior maiden.
Pondered, puzzled, insecure I became;
Shrinkage I shrunk like a frail old bat.

Brain turmoil, traumatic travails and apathy
In me on every visit she paid to my mind.
Poor grades like E for "rake" then obstacles.
Were only the scores I earned.

Lectures mine mostly I denied,
But hers covertly I proffered.
Jeers, scorns, sarcasms and all feminine jargons;
Were (only) her palatable comments on me.

Coun not sleepless nights I bore,
That in vain and irksome they were.
But now all pains I've recovered
From the catastrophe to prestigious pleasure.

Gigantic lesson I have learnt,
Pity or sympathy she lacks.
Mine thought now is no more on her,
Mobile I'm like unchained captive.

Oh! Yesterday and the day before yesterday,
Praises onto you for the vacuity you left.
In my heart new "path" now I have
That brightens and gladdens my soul.

Now free I'm from pains and woes
That in eternal joy I shall sustain!
For my new found free-way is filled with light,
That glitters like a diamond watch.


Oh! Delicate petal so attractive you're my energiser.
In poems and rhymes you deserve more than a stanza.

Innocent, slender, beautiful and extravaganza.
Your love is my cure from influenza.

For you my heart flusters and wanders,
What shoud I be without you, my heart ponders.

Your scent spreads the world around,
Your smiles set me on a merry-go-round.

You're in my mind from morning till dawn.
Your presence makes me feel like a king and crown.

Oh! Babe, let's spend this life as a leisure.
Morrow, we spend the life of eternity in joy and pleasure.

Oh! Babe, I'm on my knees asking you for a merger.
Because my love for you can't have a measure.

Sunday, July 29, 2012


Fancy me his life,
He lives and dies,
But returning in vain.
He hates religious
Loving sacrilegious.

When we talk of moral
Then he talks of vices,
When we talk of sanity,
He then talks of vanity,
Amoral indeed he is.

When talking of rascality,
He hails and cheers,
Enjoying the scenery.
But the reverse is true
When talking on religion.

Repent on your acts
For you may attain mercy,
Pardon and delightful access
To where everyone needs;
Please, change for good!


I was alone
On my own.
Near the ship
Wanting to sleep

My dirty feet
Near some meat
On my side's plate
With food I hate.

Juice by my side
Dropped in a toad.
I'm looking the best
Food for my quest.

This eat I can't,
For it is a filth
And also a guilt,
For I fear death.


I was astray
At the dark night
Past midnight.
Deserted were all,
I was left alone.
On that black night.
I searched all around,
But none to be found.
It was a cold night.
No where to go
As a stranger
No where I knew.
No guards nor drivers or riders,
But only the barking of nocturnal dogs.
The venue was locked.
Knocking wearily but in vain.
Palpitation and worry covered me.
My phone was deaf,
Worthless as a pulp.
As its soul perished.
I passed on streets and shrubs.
I was chased by a SATANIC dog!
Merciless, callous and troublesome.
Then my running increased,
For phobia of hydrophobia, not for death.
I was rescued by a herdsman
Who came out in search of bulls.
Took me to his abode I felt safe.
Full of mosquitoes and mice,
Together there we slept.
At dawn I rose;
To the mosque we went first.
Having our prayer said.
To my dwelling I reached.
Praise be to Almighty God,
And thanks to the cattleman.

Saturday, July 28, 2012


My uncle was an international business tycoon. He imported commodities that he distributed to his business colleagues across the country. Whenever he would travel, he would entrust me to act as his vicegerent, or rather, an interim householder; and to take care of everything that went on in his house, especially commuting children to schools and running some errands.
With all this invaluable trust my uncle had for me; I was very notorious. Nobody had such trust in me, including my parent. Nobody cared about me in all that I did, and I cared for nobody. Thence, I was engaged in many vices in which I became addicted to smoking and taking narcotics. I wasn't brought up by my parents. This was because my father had been in Mexico together with my mother working for a private company. They would only come back on vacation at the end of the year. All my three siblings were born there, but were taken back to my mother land after being suckled for a period of two consecutive years as ordained in the Noble Qur'an that: " Mothers shall suckle their newborn babies biennially for those who wanted to complete the suckling period." Habitually, my father preferred his children to grow up in Nigeria to Mexico, as he believed that, they would not be influenced by Western culcure. Consequently, he thought, they would get optimum Islamic knowledge; moral and religious upbringing.
I was in the second year in high school when my father resigned from his job. He enviably returned home, but he was very disappointed to find the situation I was in for the downfall and decadence of my morals, a very great disillusionment that resulted in blaming his brother (my uncle) for the collapse of my upright behaviour. As the result of that, my father tried to keep watching my movements so that I would minimise, if not hook, line, and sinker, reform and abandon such immorality. He made me to very much closer to him; driving him to various places, and whenever the school hours round off, I would proceed to his office and give him some assistance especially in works such as typing and filing. And we usually went to mosque together and attended some preaching points. Through all this, such bad demeanour vanished.
With the passage of time, my father was employed on contract by another textile company in Lagos. He really wanted to go with me, but my uncle insisted that I must stay with him until the time I have completed my studies. Naturally, my father was lenient and capricious, so, he agreed to my uncle's decision and left for Lagos alone.
One day, as I was lying on a sofa in the parlour, my uncle called me into his room and informed me that he would travel to Dubai. He said that he wanted me to take care of the activities in the house. He handed me over the keys of his cars, and warned me against reckless driving. I received the keys with glamour and some feeling of exaltation that now I had become trustworthy in his sight. Meanwhile, he gave me a huge sum of money saying: " Have this, in case the house might be in shortage of money or foodstuffs." I received the money and pocketed them.
A couple of weeks after his departure, I started visiting my ex-friends who were my accomplices. Unfortunately, they were not as good as I expected them to be; they were not changed. With their persuation and obnoxious advice, I rejoined them. Hence, we smoked Indian hemp, spent nights at night clubs, and visited a host of other similar places where undesirable acts took place.
Three weeks later, my uncle's daughter was hospitalised in a private hospital in the out-skirt of the city, after being diagnosed, her mother phoned me telling me about the charges to be paid before giving her any further treatment. She further told me that the child had been suffering from typoid fever, which had already had a negative impact on her intestine. After my arrival at the hospital, I was given the prescription list, but the meagre amount of money with me could not even be enough to fuel a car. However, I went for debt, but no one cared to lend me a kobo, as they realised the state of intoxication I was in. So, I started to search for money by hook or by crook.
I conspired with my companions to burgle, after being advised by Manga, the physique and the strongest of us. Initially, he engineered for the operation to be undertaken at night. Firstly, as high way robbers, but Tanko, the next in strength to Manga, insisted that it must be burgling, in which all of us agreed.
Unfortunately, we were arrested by the police soonest after we burgled the mansion. We were taken to the police station and put in the cells. Eventually, we were taken to court for trial. After two months' trial, Mangal and Tanko were found guilty as they were already wanted for the murder of an innocent driver and two passengers who they robbed and killed in one of the city streets two months ago. They were jailed for twelve years. But I was the luckiest of them as I was sentenced for half a decade without fine.
At the hospital, the patient died for lack of adequate medical care. This was because the charges were not paid, and the doctor promised not to give any patient whose wards didn't deposit a minimum half of the charges any advanced treatment. Initially, nothing was deposited to the hospital in terms of medication. The patient was only given some few tablets and syrups that might be donated by WHO.
Consequently, when my father heard about this regrettable incident, he was depressed and wept ceaselessly until his eyes turned red and vague. But my uncle didn't attack me physically or verbally as he referred to the incident as fate predestined by God. And that, of course, didn't bring hatred between us.
Now, I have been released after five years, but my greatest worry is that of the death of the innocent child. Would i be held accountable for her death on the Day of Judgement? It it is so, I can't do anything but regretting the day I did this pitiless act.


The rainy season has been so wet,
That my visitor hasn't come yet.
Every month comes the poor,
Knocking repeatedly on my door.

He would gaze to see all around
The veranda and balcony of my ground.
For he would receive the next month's store,
That is why he comes to my door.

And my neighbourhood could tell
What he did now so well;
That he has no more gut
To come as we took note.

Seducing one's daughter in one nook,
Night to my home, he was a crook.
Regrettably, he was a moron,
My alms to him is now none.

He was caught one day,
On running away without dealy.
He sought from them a favour,
As he was frightened with shiver.

Such thing wasn't good to hear,
When hearing I shed the tear.
For the man was very old,
With wives, children, young and old.

Now he could come no more,
For receiving at my door.
Pity on him I can't recall,
Grief engulfs me whenever I recall.

READING (a poem)

The light of humanity
The path to be genius
Exaltation lies in you,
Unrewarded reward is from you.
As I heard: "every glory
Unsupported by you, vanishes
Then replaced by disgrace."

Dies he whosoever
His life is given to you.
"The best is you in thought and say."
It is not my adage, but Arnold Mathew's
In the 19th century he lived.

The former was Shallaby,
The great Arabian thinker he be.
"Struggle I must become, a becoming and and end, and
An opposition to ends:"

To read, write and strive,
Were the words of Schopenhaur's disciple:
Nietzsche was the German Philosopher.

"Read, and read and read, everything timelessly."
Are my favourites', Jibril and I.B.K,
The influential emeritus and don.
Never ignore what they say
On reading: "animals all we be
Without you, thoughtless.

THE ENCOUNTER (a poem about NYSC)

Who says trash is in you?
Ignore him for he knows nil
Your miracles and lights.
Idiocy, naivety, nosiness,
And more junks you fight.

It unveils when one's mobilised,
Then, posting day one learns:
On the way to camp is enough,
One sees, hears, and perceives.
Journey is of knowledge, is that?
Learning continues up to the end...

But why a nasty simpleton argues,
What's not true about you, ah?
Heartless!Confined in a narrowed nook!
Hearken! Nook life is a crevice life!
Jungle life of savages' track.

Our faith teaches us thus:
Journey is a heart-moving fun,
A dictum: "experience teaches more
What he can never teach."

To know, one must strive, and
Striving denotes struggle in life.
"Seeing is believing", know that?
Latent and pompous then lapse.

Through you I've learnt lots
Values, religions, politics
That's not a lie!
Fame, fancy, and more
Well-known to all who did that.

But slander comes from a dull,
Redundant illiterate parsimonious mean,
Knowing nothing but eating HARAM!

Damn his habitual acts:
Sexual polygamist I knew that!
Why is he accusing a celibate man?
It was an irony as I heard that.

Thanks be to The Single Proof
Who forbids those deeds...
And my PRO bequeathed more:
Saying: "say good or just be hushed."

But to repay for bad is bad,
Revenge is not a lack;
Check the Books you'll find that!
My satiric verse is an open one,
Scathe me; I'm ready for that,
Keeping it lie is a cowardice act!

To a big-belly mean I give it as a reward,
Bosh! Stinking fellow I got that.
Try afresh; you'll regret your gab,
For mine fire and thunder it does have!
Next from the sky I'll commence!

Haram means unlawful thing.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

PUSHY LADY (a poem)

Beautiful is she,
Yet ignorant bushy,
White in colour
Dark-hearted, unclear.

Generous is she
To rascals as she.
Hospital is she,
In giving and pushy.
Do you get the point?
If not, meet me at joint.


He comes early
Dropping his stationery.
Mingling with worthless pals,
Cheering the ladies' worth.

He ignores his mission
And engages in wrong-doing.
No, he loses! And afresh he loses!
Who knows what he loses?

A gigantic treasury
Whose key once thrown to him,
Hence, neglecting its worth
And following cobwebs!

MY TEACHERS (a poem)

You nurtured me to survive
When I was unable to nurture myself.
You fed me when no one could feed me,
My teachers I shan't forget.

You taught me when nothing I knew,
You moralised me when I was demoralised.
Obedience and servility to parents,
With your help, all I learned.

In the dim of darkness I was
Before your coming with light,
That illuminated through my heart;
Leaving no organ in need of light.

My future vision was initially coarse,
As you came it was smoothed for life.
You counselled, guided and led my mind
To reality and achievement of life.

Amazingly I didn't know my right
Least my left as you came all I learned.
Prayer to oneself and parents also I learned
From you, now I pray for all.

Teachers you are the incubators of mankind!
Without you life should be in vague!
You are the water without you life is null!
I must be praising you in my life!

Teachers what you do is quite
Unrewarding by all humankind.
I value you for you are worthy of that;
I must pray for you until I die.


What a detestable, damnable, deplorable sting!
What a vacuous vandal!
What a varmint vanquish!
What a vapid vicious dim-witted cobra!
Tedious ghost, unpatriotic,
Blinkered and brainless!

Our progress declines,
Despised and barred?
Despite our sanity.
Nay! To this nausea!

Ours is but optimism,
Ours are barriers from travail,
To success, sureness and hope.
Yes, ours is audacity to lie!

Have we seen the inferno afar,
With its doors ajar,
Waiting many to dive amass!

Beware, claimant of the truth,
Yet, sticker to falsity,
Oppressor to academic folks,
Suppressor of goodness,
Foe to our panacea,
Repressor to itself,
Depressor to our bedrock,
And tantaliser to our dreams,
Yet despotic clenched fangs.

Waht a tenacious and precarious beast;
Sucking our blood alive?
Enough is enough, you genocidal missiles!
'No' and 'no' to this endemic felony!
Won't you free us?
Let you know: this life is mortal,
Let you repent, if not, go to hell!

The end of meeting, parting!
The end of journey, destination!
The end of life, death!
The end of death, resurrection!
The end of judgement: ABODE!

Two ABODES exist,
If one is not here,
Imagine it there,
Ours is enjoyably here,
But its just is there!


Why life in silence
Like an aged tomb,
What is that all about?
Living in silence!

Are you necessary?
Why not schooling at all?
Why do you elongate
Like a long woven rope?

You destroy our plans,
You dissect between us
With your sharpened dagger
And cease our blood to run.

I hate you much
For your malevolent acts.
I despise you as my death,
To my rest you are for no use!

You claim making me rest
From the over-burden of academic loads.
I say you are lie!
Rest is but like a prison term.

Move away from me!
For I am tired of your tyranny.
Or it'll be your end
As I'll refuse you and come alone.

Library will be my friend
Books will be my food
Prayers serve my intervals
And browsing to be my rest, not you!


SARARI AT WORK: BEWARE OF FRAUDSTERS (a poem): BEWARE OF FRAUDSTERS I passed out from trouble, That seemed like a battle. I was nigh to success, But I lost the access. I encountered...



I passed out from trouble,
That seemed like a battle.
I was nigh to success,
But I lost the access.
I encountered a wicked rogue.
Who wore a hideous brogue.
He was indeed a wannabe;
A bourgeoisie he seemed to be.
He was bodily a dweeb.
But inwardly, he was drab.
He offered me homage
With honour of a pledge.
"Where could I get change
Of Dollars without challenge?"
Swiftly, my curiosity arisen.
And my cupidity awoken.
"Bureau de Change I know."
In truth, I said to this fellow.
Verily, on this, I stammered,
At the same time, I shivered.
A friend I asked my wish
Who obeyed with no selfish.
Three of us rode Okada
To Badawa on this agenda.
A ghetto area we entered,
Into a trivial cottage we ushered.
In a box dollars were scattered;
Twenty thousand Naira was demanded
As payment for the keeper
Of the bucks, I could remember.
I paid the dough as demanded,
Later, one of them departed
To nowhere knew but Creator.
But fortune swapped the danger.
Meeting the crook man at a junction,
In Same day, I've to mention,
Caught hold of him and demanded
My money back, we requested.
"To my comrade you gave not me,
Out of my way, let me be free."
At last much when he suffered
In the hand of police, he surrendered.
My money was gladly refunded,
And the fraudsters were brutally treated!

Sunday, July 1, 2012


SARARI AT WORK: MISSION TO THE GRAVE: The mourners were crying, others were murmuring prayers to my humble corpse. The shroud which my body was to be wrapped was brought, and peo...


The mourners were crying, others were murmuring prayers to my humble corpse. The shroud which my body was to be wrapped was brought, and people men and women including my father were standing before my dead body. My father and my siblings were now carrying me to an open backyard where I would be washed. I could hear a very long hypocritical scream of my wicked step mother, which sounded like ululation. It seemed as if she was happy about my departure. The antics in her scream showed the reality of her lack of seriousness. It was a forged cry, and I believe, all this, was due to an inestimable hatred she had for me since my mother was alive.
Soon, our family house was crowded; the compound was filled up with different faces. At the entrance, many cars were parked, and their owners were patiently waiting for my burial. Relatives and well-wishers including my school mates were gathered to witness my funeral.
I wondered how people knew about my death so soon, especially as it was only a few minutes after my departure. Then suddenly I remembered that it was Sunday afternoon. I thought maybe Kabiru Musa Jammaje was informed about it, and he took advantage to announce it on the Freedom Radio during his programme Creative Writing.
My fiancée whose name was untold even when I was alive, fainted almost thrice when she heard about it. She was currently hospitalised at Aminu Kano Teaching Hospital.
My family, relatives, neighbours and others were now standing in a row for my funeral prayer. I was just kept down before them by four strong men; and the Imam stood over me saying his prayers. I could see tears dripping down my father's cheek when he was joining in the line. The prayer was off, and the Imam asked the congregation to pray for me. In less than five minutes; I was taken to cemetery.
On my bier, I could feel how I was being moved by the people who were carrying me. I could see how my intimate friends including Aliyu Abdu Babayo, Abba Ali Sadiq, Bashir Yahaya, Abba Danbatta, Miftahu Ya'u as well as Aminu Mu'azu were receiving my condolence. I could also overhear how the entire people were asking God for my forgiveness.
As soon as I was dropped down in front of my grave, which had been dug out by tomb-digger; I found myself preparing and folding the hands of my long-sleeved shirt among those who were trying to bury me. I was now laid gently into the grave, and I was actively helping them pushing the soil down on me. Suddenly I woke up, and then I realised that I was dreaming. It was now eleven o'clock noon, the time for Creative Writing Programme; and then I turned on my radio.