OKUNKA

 

OKUNKA, THE WOMEN KNOW YOU!

YOU COMPOSED THE DIRGE WHEN ASIEDUA THE ONLY DAUGHTER OF

ONYANKOP~N THE CREATOR DIED.

SKILLFUL ARCHER OF WORD AND SONG,

OKUNKA, 

THE WOMEN KNOW YOU.

 

OKUNKA, THE WOMEN LOVE YOU!

YOUR NAME REMAINS PROVERBIAL

BECAUSE OKUKUSEKU AND ASOMASI FEAR YOU

THE ONLY BARD OF WHOM THE AUDIENCE SING;

CUNNING TRAPPER OF THE WINDS.

 

IF I MEET YOU IN BROAD SUNLIGHT,

 I SHALL DEMAND A FROTHY GOURD OF GOODWILL

SERVED IN THE SHADES OF THE FRANKADUA.

I SHALL DARE YOU TO MEET ME ON A BREEZY DAY, 

AND I SHALL RETALIATE.

 

OKUNKA, THE WOMEN TRUST YOU

YOUR HAREM IS BRIMMING WITH VIRGINS AND WIDOWS HELD IN TRUST

TILL THEY ARE CLAIMED.

 

OKUNKA,

CHOP A DRINK AND 

LET ME FINISH THIS APPELLATION.

PENANCE

 

I SHALL DO PENANCE FOR THE FIRST SIN YOU COMMIT

THEN WAIT TO SEE WHAT THE OTHERS BRING ALONG.

 

I SHALL DO PENANCE FOR THE FIRST SIN I COMMIT

SO I LEND YOU THE PLEASURE TO PLAY GOD,

THE JUDGE AT WHOSE MERCY WE ALL ARE.

 

I SHALL DO PENANCE FOR THE FIRST SIN WE COMMIT

SO THAT OUR COMMUNAL DEBT OF DEATH IS PAID

AND LEAVE GOD TO BE JUDGE,

THE MERCIFUL ONE HE IS.

I have fallen KRIKITIM!

 

I have fallen,

 

KRIKITIM!

 

From my place at your knees

       In the dream

Too good to be over

The same one in which we met at the red junctions and strolled

Down the nape of the Wanzam

 

You were gracious when you finally bit him

That he began to dance before remembering his song

 

His dance was as contorted

As the song you taught him and

Soon the whole village was audience

 

I have fallen,

 

KRIKITIM!

 

To my place at your knees,

  In this life

Too hard to be short

This same one in which I dream

To be King

Of your marinated thoughts

 

If I write the Odyssey,

If I wrote my Odyssey,

You would be Calypso

 

Your voice would keep Olympus demented

And our hero would be home sooner

 

You would sing for me and

You would have a willing King and prisoner

 

For there are days when a man

Would give many things

To read the riddles in a deity’s eyes.

 

 

 

I have fallen,

 

 

KRIKITIM!

 

In this silhouette of your hair

When you let it down to confuse anger

 

The same ones

That stem from the depths of your mind,

That ink pot with which

You splatter the world with love

 

You are that kind deed

I would gladly do to humanity every day,

That stutter I would have,

Always,

To remind me that I have fallen

 

KRIKITIM!

Right before you

To the breaking of my vow

To stand firmly behind you

 

My Poetic Love

 

Maybe I should cease telling all my dreams

And this one might end well