LOUDTHOTZ

The official Web Logs for Independent Poets Concern's Loudthotz Open Poetry Readings

.blindfolds.

Written By: Loudthotz - Feb• 15•12
(Poem of the Month – February 2012)

“Even though these blindfolds yet be unopened;
still, i see; chains yet unbroken,
I see; roads yet un-trodden,
I see; chords yet un-woven,
I see; giants yet un-woken,
..all because, ‘em very right words are still yet un-spoken!

I see: Jona’s in town, and the whole town’s in scampers.
I see: Boko just hit town, and the UN is on fire.
I see: Little Kofo musing over her youth service posting,
‘coz she’s so off to the plateau; an unsolved crime
scene.
I see: Dona in grief’s bar!
.heads down, hands down, legs fanned, life’s out,
drowned in d tunes of little Dona’s requiem, ‘coz
“hurricane” tawa, didn’t seem to heed them!

I see; worries in the air,
I see; bodies without care,
I see; urchins everywhere,
Yet i see; graduates that didn’t learn; without pens, without heads!

I see; peace ills,
I see; ill pills,
I see; huge bills,
Yet i see; long queues even in our private hospitals!

I see; halls built,
I see; pews filled,
I see; huge guilts,
Yet I see; lips sealed, dreams killed, sin distilled, even in confession!

..so I ..pause..to see still..

and I see beyond these spectacles that create these vivid illusions,
like I see right through their mandibles, when ‘em ar saying things they can’t do!

I see beyond these icing’s on the national cake,
Like I see that cake aint cake ’til WE be properly baked!
I see in me what they saw in WE, when ‘em were selling us things we didn’t even need,
Like I see we still bickering, constantly for over half of a century, with our offspring lay lounging lavishly yet penuriously !

.All these I see; all these I saw till my eyes grew sore, and my mind grew bored, and my soul went bald, with
no cure!

.Only then was I…FORCED TO SEE THAT:

.the strength of d paint is in its brush control.
.the strength of music is in its sound control.
.the strength of poetry is in its rhyme control.
.the strength of wealth is in its debt control.
.the strength of sanity is in the mind control.
.the strength of our future is in OUR now control.
.the strength of Nigeria is in our WORDS control.
..Coz as “GOD BLESS AMERICA”, is prayed without hysteria,

.you are NIGERIA!
I am NIGERIA!!
YES! WE ARE NIGERIA!!

.so what WE gonna do ’bout that!!

..all these I see, right through these blindfolds called
NOW!!

‘coz the future of NIGERIA is ours for the speaking!!”

 

 

written and recited by Irewole “.meteorite.” Akintayor at LOPR Season3, Episode2.

Posted in LOPR Season III, Poem of The Month , , , , , | No Comments »

Osiri

Written By: Loudthotz - Jan• 20•12
(Poem of The Month – January 2012)

It’s been a while my love
It’s been a long time since I last saw you
A long time since I felt your soothing tan
Against my tender skin.

Four Decembers have passed my love
Four Decembers since I last smelt
The smell of your paths,
Inhaled the rare aroma of your unique recipe;
Your hudgepudge of dust and hay; of fur
Feathers, brewing honey and clay
Soaked in the sauce that you make
From melting the chocolate off my skin.

Do forgive me my love
Do forgive me for I have wronged you
I have broken the ritual -
My promise to return and kiss
Your patient bosom
Each season when the sun
Races to finish
Another lap

But I have come home now my love
I have come to you with a consolation
Anecdotes and tales
Of my adventure in distant lands
Tales of many a city I have conquered
Tales of many hot breasts I have denied
That yours may be the only that my hands caress
I have come home
That you may teach me your patience
And be patient for me.

But alas, in a little while my love
In a little while for only a few more days
Will I put up with you
And my feet shall sail me away again
To distant corners through tributaries
I do not yet know, nor see
I do not intend to make you jealous,
But I shall go, and I shall kiss
The daughters of many tribes
For I came to you this time
And you provided me no comfort
Not even a stone to lay my weary head.

But I shall return my love
I shall return to you for the love I feel for you
Will withstand even the desert storms
So I shall return to you with the spoils
from other lands
And I shall build me a little hut in your little heart
Where I shall be content to be
Woken by the mellifluity
When you sing to me your morning songs
With the gay voices of the early trushes;
And to dance with you in the afternoons
To the harmonic duets of the bees and wasps,
And fall asleep upon with you
In the evenings, drunk with fresh palm wine
After our moonlit dinners.

Hmnnn, indeed I shall return to you my love
I shall return when I have exploited the daughters
Of other tribes, of their tart and lubricious affections
And I shall bring to you my pure love
Kissing your nape perfumed with the myrrh
Of the wild Meligna
And your virgin lips sweetened with the sweetness
Of the tropical udara, and caressing
your virgin breasts my virgin maiden
Till the shy sun shuts its eyes on us
And the tired curtains
Drop.

Written by An. N. Amos, and recited by FEEL at LOPR season3 episode1.

click here to Watch The Video

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Plus one

Written By: Loudthotz - Dec• 09•11
(Poem of The Month – December 2011)

seun ige

The divide of sanity and psychological deficiency is enquiry!

Is this for nights upturned?
And glasses of red shrouded as hazy
Unpainted conversations of the day?

As with the sun and heat
So is it with success and the streets

Down the creeks, and daddies’ dream is still very loud,
Like his voice, it can’t be ignored

My world has not changed
But
My fear has,
It has grown,
Grown thicker,
Thicker than me the curator,

I have lived, and these times live with me,
As now, when my dreams come alive,
But sometimes not with me, I only see them
Televised and printed

I have cried, tears well enough to serve
The neighborhoods backyard,

I have smiled, very unnecessarily,
To friends? Yes!
But to you, why?

You! *sigh*

I have made love to the beautiful unrehearsed cosmic complexities,
And still no scanner can tell the sex of these babies

Tomorrow’s pregnancy might be aborted,
Bur how plausible,
When we neither know what tomorrow brings,
Nor does it need our sperms for its ovaries.

I am the black Prado, commodore for deaths unknown,
For causes unheard of, yet I must follow,
For they have given me reason not to.

I am not your ghost,
I am not your pain
I am not your failure
I am not the answers to your questions,
Questions that never existed, only because nobody asked,
Because I never asked

I am the wind, soothing dry skins and parched minds,
Feeding hollow brains and constructing bricks of disconcerted continuity

I have given less for more,
Given more or less
Just for a night with the twinkle of stars on the red carpet,
A grey would also do.

I am new, the newest version of me
The new newest on the same old block, where nothing really can be new,
Because everyone there is old,
Older than the separateness and assimilation

Twenty six years down the lane, and I still wonder…..

Written and recited by ‘Seun Ige at LOPR season2 episode12

click here to Watch The Video

Posted in LOPR Season II, Poem of The Month, Uncategorized , , , , , , | 3 Comments »
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