The real purpose of the visa tourism
Is the humiliation of the guests
Its “us and them” post tribal atavism
The applicants are treated like suspects
The so called survey list interrogates
Some questions that can't be rationalized
To play a reason to pass through the border gates
Despite prejudice that you are crimnalized
The papers you submit might look suspicious
They may refuse you with “I am not satisfied”
Refunds are not provided, you’re fictitious
And anyway, a fool that tried to lie
It turns to be a huge list of rejections
It gives an argument to blow the world away
But I won’t press that button, waiting for objections
If more objections they would like to say.
Recife... its mirror... Venice,
its atavism... Holland...and,
its haughtiness of a King...
primal atavism
northeastern artificer
climb coconut tree
Despised, Reviled, Rejected.
Object of cruel mockery.
Before I was conceived, I heard of you,
Dumps for homeless migrants,
Debased and inferior.
Was beauty ever part of you?
This throng, that daily treads your well worn streets,
Whither? your brackish waters,
Home to unseen enemies, children splash uncaring,
Your market is a meeting place, young and old,
Rich and poor, your wares to behold
Ajegunle, the harsh teacher, Survival skills your forte,
Sharpening and shaping lives by your creeds
Ajegunle,
The enemy of state love, a point to prove,
Creativity crams herself into your nooks and crannies,
The envy of rich Ikoyi.
Ajegunle,
You must visit with vigilance, day or night,
Hunters abound, roving eyes,
Seeking purse to prey upon.
Their kills dissected in the crevices of Ajegunle
Where the oppressed oppress another
Atavism is a regular guest at Ajegunle
Where order is almost a crime,
Disorder the norm,
Ajegunle,
Kingdom of numerous kings, a reflection of ourselves
Poverty amidst riches, want amidst plenty,
Ajegunle,
Despised
Reviled
Rejected
Ajegunle is a Popular slum in Lagos Nigeria.
From primal atavism
Navigating the procela
with strong courage and faith
sailboat will sail
Neptune Counterpart
tame dark sea
ancient pirogue raft
There was a man from Asia, it was me,
I could not fit in with the norm, I was beastly;
And so, I was living in the desolate woods,
Far away from the consumer goods.
As time passed hormones played havoc
Tinkering around my brain and twitting my ravenous cock,
The luck did not favor me with a hen,
In utter desperation I took up the pen.
I wrote a thousand lines for my inveterate luck,
That brat was not pleased, I was a lame duck;
I was a beast and so I picked up a prick,
And dug in the bush, a hole, for my furtive dick.
The haul thing was stupendous, a bit obscene,
But I did carry the atavism in my gene;
In the dark it came out, you know what I mean.
As night kicked in the crack I gave it a break,
Nick Tim, my dear, only for your sake.
Amuse Me with Your Rhyme, Let A Man from Asia be your guide Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Nick Trim
26th June, 2018
Tearing irony,
howling sarcasm,
coming out of dribbling mouths,
blood-staining hyenas,
exhausted vampires.
To self-learn the art of hatred,
Just from mask-faces without dynamism,
This is the famous Shakespearean dilemma,
That comes, resuscitates like an atavism.
Tossing in the bed of hypocrisy,
amongst drinks that suffocate in frenzy,
this is the post-modern heroism,
simple, surviving of the humanity.
Birth Pranks!
labour....a baby cries
then popcorn of exploding smiles
yet, he's wary of lies
will he quickly talk
before he can do anything or walk
to tell if he is his folk?
"why not like his brother
nor at least the face of his mother
or me his ugly father!?"
common labour pranks,
aftermath of protracted labour pangs
is wagging of tongues!
*
let's wallow in mirth
not by small but by a large girth
for the infantile birth.
recalling the pot
burned on fire to simmer hot
and cook this lot.
womb is not defied
cankered or be it of lineage wild
that yielded the child.
no sooner is he out
than there is the malignant doubt;
"this is not dad's snout!"
law of the bush:
baby survives overturned in a rush;
in atavism check by Cush!
**Conceived when a friend's wife gave birth at home. The poem casts a slur to rural births that took place those years when a child had to really resemble his father.......! Infant mortality and divorces then were pretty.
13th September 2013
The tassel
Seems to be blossomed
Having created with beauty
And shedding aroma passim
When the time comes close
And to closer and close up
The tassel
Seems to be hybrid
Having hidden conventional qualities
Nothing to be seen
Expected beauty and
Conceived aroma
The tassel
Where stands
Roots of brought forth
Clasp poisonous thorns
Even blunt
It is destructible
The tassel
Untimely born
That may not blossom and smell
Defoliated body of line
It has being decayed
Respective ignorance of origin
Throughout the time
Emerges like an atavism
Udaya R. Tennakoon
The Race
Nihilistic from the moment we are conceived
Hurtling towards certain demise our
Atavism repeating the cycle of
fate predetermined by fate
Between the starters pistol and the finish line
We run the race, another's
No relay here, it is only you
Always running, forever feeling chased
Hurdles attempt to slow our progress
Falling we picking ourselves up, scraped knees and all
Run on, run faster, and reach that finish line
With the shiny prize firmly in hand, die.
Alternate Ending:
Optimistic from the moment we are conceived
Life is an endless adventure ahead of us
Destiny determined by free will
Sunday morning basking
In window lace and leaf filtered sun
Embracing down white gossamer
Dreams drifting, in open timeless places
We play, no ticking down, only here in this moment
Memories live forever untainted in our hearts
Eternity is ours and always was
Infinity fits nicely into a life not yet finite
Stephen (Stoic)