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Mushin

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Below is the poem entitled Mushin which was written by poet Afolabi Taiwo. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Mushin

   A sizzling hot pancake metropolis
   Kingsize of all market places,
   Every mystery is salable 
   The wind and shadows move and speeds transaction times;
   And the delicious hawkers are on parade,
   
   Plentiful offered to hurrying feet:
   Whet the appetite!
   Eatful and relaxful!
   A cry of artificial 'soyoyo' resounds above the din,
   And another sportive:
   Eatful and relaxful!
   Mine is not garbage
   Aroma is bellywarming,
   Buy and get a kiss! 
   A touch-room of rollicking buttocks,
   A new wife in your backyard.
   
   Mushin, a river, a delta and a sea of humans,
   Vegetating rootless furgitives,
   Floodgate of occupational strangers
   And sprouting munificent householders,
   Splice the meander of many whereabouts,
   Milieu of cobwebs sustaining its multiplex,
   Irresistible, the villagers deserted their origins,
   Blighted eloped to its Eden of lovers,
   End of the road fair to traders,
   And a refuge of many wandering sojourners.
   
   Eko dun ni mushin!
   Satisfactory totem of good life,
   Inside the povertytrap lives in splendour,
   The stupendours poor,
   In some portion, the cholera era still extant,
   Crowded haphazard acres, painted us in diarrhorea,
   Disheveled landscapes, colosus callous spread 
   Of tattered tentacles of households,  
   Guaranteed epiphany of praise music roar in glee,
   Seedy stadia of 'Amuluduns' afflicted with deafness,
   Gods and stars of seraph voices,
   Rhythm-tuned the bandwagons of revelers,
   A fleeting breath between moralty and debauchery
   And the colony of commune copulating emass,
   Bringing forth lavish czars of louts and touts,
   Blessed by the teeming angelic minstrels,
   
    Danfo o shiere, baba lonsinwin!
   
   The virulent-rockets that deathly sped through our
   veins,
   To reborn the bullet riddle heart of Oyenusi,
   Hoodlums rose against derelict minds;
   A ratat on Dagga's eyes,
   In the bloody sky sail the jagged wasp bottles,
   To sting and to crush neurotic pickled heads, 
   Tomahawk axes hacked the skeleton in cupboards,
   Sabre cutlasses swooped, dig-deep gully on sweltering
   flesh,
   Nuzzling for breasts, we scion each learned, 
   To wear our hearts on our sleeves, 
   To roar and to leap for sighted danger,
   We had no time to rumage the minds,
   Fed roughage to calm the molest nerves,
   Immune and armoured, we tread the screaming streets

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