Tuesday, 20 June 2017

In OKENE, KOGI STATE NIGERIA where I serve, The land of crises

Until the boy was squeezed into a sack, bruised to death with
A heavy iron rod as the blood that draped his head
Was dropping from underneath the sack while the
Criminal behind this was walking fast and wearing a face
of guilt in a bold way.
As he was ambling through the side of the road, the heart of justice suddenly became unbroken
as he was challenged by a craftsman who noticed his culpable face
And the line following him, a line of blood
, so he replied that he was carrying a cow’s head, one which he bought
Just from the nearby butcher, so they let him go,
But the trader beside
The craftsman called him back and insisted that he opened the sack,
Hmm, it was a dead little boy forcefully crinkled into layers
With some of the rough, rusted irons dip inside him
In a narrow sack with lots of wasted iron placed on
His lifeless body
As a wee lad, my dad regaled me and my siblings with
Stories of sea anemones and the black geography of
Disreputable Africa.

But on this day not far from my shanty in okene, kogi state,
A boy’s plea to listen to his father’s stories was short-lived,
A little boy crawled to their backyard while her mother was
Asleep on a local half swivel chair,
It was a mother’s mishap, the criminal was one of those men
Well know for moving around in the neighborhood
Picking metals, steels and irons into sacks and trawlers.
All happened here some weeks ago.
i know we cant undo the past,
but mothers and all would be mothers,
please be much more careful with the protection of your children,
evil men in every alcove and cranny.

Saturday, 6 May 2017


In 1976 her Blazing Geography and Geology
Scorched the shoulder of her plains and redrafted
The map of her mother as she existed earlier than
 Her birth.  And the mothers of her daughters were
Busy frying a story for their children and the generations
Unearthed from the sky’s wall to swig.

Her mother
She is eye of a continent that unearthed 
Black people from the sky’s floor
Eye made of pupil alone,   
Eyes made of brooks, exiles, homes,
 And shouldered by plains and mangroves,
Eyes made of sylvan and urban,
Eyes made of the harm of God or the charms of gods
Eyes made of tales and chronicles of the wind

Here is where Mother Nature held the eye
 Of the sky and dipped it into a landscape,
Where the voice of the arctic quivered slowly and grew dumb,
Where the harms of the glaciers shudder.

This is the state that is festooned with a
Song that slays even the neck of a dirge unsung,
 And beheads the un-serenity of an horrific geography.

She held her gaze to the radiance of her own glee,
She‘s a kind of Iraq that edits the woes wore by war away from her ways.
She’s the voice of an oboe that sings the peace of a river
Editing the woes of flood away from her annals.
 She doesn’t mooch around a spot  
She’s busy illuminating her niche - Nigeria  
This is Ondo state, the sunshine state.

   Temitope Awogbemila is a Nigerian poet, who writes poetry and short stories, he loves the poetic artistry of Ryan Quinn Flanagan, Gbenga Adesina and  Kyper mensah. He is also a mathematical statistician, a deep thinker and a theocratic public speaker; he is crazy about his love for animals, good emotions, the voice of the sky, the taste of palm kennel, History, Serengeti, Safari, Yellowstone, families, friends, future paradise, the complex meaning of a typical poem, and mountains sitting like rebellious oceans, making themselves invincible to our world itself.

Friday, 28 April 2017


Blind oxen in red chaos, lived but yet never living,
Fearless old woman living alone became a ghost,
Died of a sudden buzz by an ancient wall clock,
Wicked kingdoms ended by killer subordinates,
Made frail mice burrow into human intestines,
Heat driven they were, bitter taste the bile gave.

Moored with no forensic proof,
Wicked criminals back into modern day Asheville,
Innocent convict on chains,
Better feeling had they done evil,
Walking on the grass side of every day road.
Found a million dollar bag,
Hallucinating to kill boredom.

Killer whales stranded in coastlines,
Seals rode on them as edible horses.
Heavy snow fall in the Serengeti,
African lions ate them with their mane.
No fear, no surprise, no worries

The wild mammalian world came begging,
Mentally deranged rangers pulled triggers,
Killed the last surviving hermaphrodite rhinoceros,
Enchanted sorcerer cast spell over moving bullets,
Brain scattered like seeds with explosive mechanism.

Thursday, 30 March 2017

Tuesday, 28 March 2017


The security of her jewel will gobble you, then to him, you an insignificant
Twine of noddle in the belly of a yearlong famished African elephant.

Check this->

   Sea lions: 
                Ready to ragger you,and scornfully laugh
              at your avaricious quest,

                        Hilarious with jesting rotundity

                    Through their uniform of fat, 
                          raped around each as variation of size.

Great white shark:
                 As the ultimate security, notorious scallywag on the ocean floor

                 Jiggling both brains, as it amputates life from the body with the

                              Scalpels and lancets of her razor sharp deadly canine.

Jelly fishes
                With cute tentacles, mystic to eye deities,
          they are the greatest slayers ever,

                 The goddess of death alone worshipers,
                   clad in deadly traits, same as the sight of

        polar bears in Varanasi Or yet still, 
                  humpbacks wailing while

        Swimming their awesome melodies In
      the shallow streams of Ouagadougou     

Sunday, 26 March 2017


BLOOD OF POETRY IN OUR MEMORIES : THE WORDS IN THE MIND OF THE MAN THAT HELD THE TAI...: My friendly enemy, my woe, My success, it, sunrise and tide stood still and waited, While running for a double faced demon. The ...


My friendly enemy, my woe,
My success, it, sunrise and tide stood still and waited,
While running for a double faced demon.

The oceans in war with my ambitions,
The moon aggressive to the dying 
twilight in my newly closed mouth,
He said I must decide to loose or 
win the signs of the sunny moon’s shadow.

At exactly twelve o’clock midnight
they made hay,At the same time in charge of ritual
oratory, their calabash in the floor’s sky.
 above the iroko tree.

The mystical was in possession of a compass,
Couldn’t understand the drawings, four brained deities
Interpreted walking terrestrial shadows; 
Maybe they had a wrist watch.

Our sages even while somnambulating at sunrise,
Read the shadows and made grandiose inferences, 
Hand writings on heavenly walls, 
signs and symbols for the so called virgin deities.

He is in war with man while the oceans had
A dispute with those red salmons,
 Sending them back to the
 Magma river to lay aluminum eggs,
 He’s too slow and dull,
 Like the flapping wings of a humming bird,
At the same time, faster than fast,
Like the little Chinese snail Angustopila dominikae.

Procrastinators are humming killers,
Giving greens to sloths in the Amazon,
Wise usage of time will not just make you survive,
But thrive and prosper at the right time.

Saturday, 25 March 2017



You would plan to dip your head into the mouth of a tiger shark
And tell it not to cramp its teeth, else you will burst its jowl.

You walk into the aperture of darkness with mouth filled
With the blood of words, equations and drawings
And hope some will penetrate your myelin.

You would spin yourself into a somnambulist and
 Melt the night into your eyes with candles and
Hope again that some will penetrate your myelin.

You would drag bare parties into a sack and
Encourage it to commit Fatalistic suicide.

Then you owl, yelp and roar to the heavens
 And request you don’t want the darkness
To reappear in the mouth of the tiger shark.

FUTA is a university where exam is like a tiger shark