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Best Poems Written by Alayande Stephen

Below are the all-time best Alayande Stephen poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Alayande Stephen Poem

We . . .Not Frustrated(Prof. Olufemi Bamiro)uivc

WE . . .  NOT  FRUSTRATED

Those whose mouth  speak and ooze 
Only fire of a voluble vibrating vocabulary 

Those whose sin is just speaking for others
In order for their other orders not to be ordered

Those whose lives were almost snuffed
Away by the ordered ultra-fascists gangsters   

Those whose words sparkles only fire 
To fire the unfired spirits into burn- fires

Those whose political jargons-renditions
Send thousands frenzy for action

Those whose offence is probing beyond 
The nostril above their faces

Those who are ostracized for louding the truth
Above the speaker of the U and I garden

                          These
Are those my bird flock together with
During the day in search of the night

I among those given heavy knock on 
The head for these inequities known only to them

I among those who are painted in stinker Toga 
Of  Miscreants, Disgruntled elements,…

I among those placed on a four season wheel-chair
With a gun powder explosion underneath
  
                              But
For them their son that strike the cheek of a Porter
More thunderous a slap to be queried nor be punished

For them their sons and daughters whose oblongata
Remains blank but full of giraffe and chips in the exams
  
For them their  stooges that converse with guns and goons
For them that smile with axes, guns, daggers . . . 
To strike, shoot and maim others

For them  their anchors that knows nothing but something
For out of their nothing lies violence and blood
For they speaketh nor write 

For them their boys they present a golden plate of honour
Found worthy in learning and character
Doomed to become menace to the society
  
For we . . . remain resolute
For we . . . not frustrated 
For  we . . . not cowed 
For we . . . unperturbed 

For we shall uphold the pillar of truth
Until our struggle shall beam light en route the tunnel



Alayande Stephen .T
12th February,2006
11.28am

Conceptualised after my four semester rustication
Verdict by Prof.Bamiro UI VC led SDC in
 University of Ibadan on the  31st of January,2006.
 A Promise to myself to refire  the struggle not to retire.

Details | Alayande Stephen Poem

Few Drops

Dark clouds hovered around
And no one was assured 
Of the next events

The striking lighting ensued
And thunder
Slapped two birds against each other
With frightening clatters
The stage was set

And the elements waited 
Like soldiers on guard
Then the silvery ropes cascaded down
With heavy patters
That turned the deserts
Into smiling savanna. 



Alayande Stephen T.
September 12th 2005
1.05pm

Details | Alayande Stephen Poem

Mama Africa

On thy breast I suck
On thy belly I walk
On thy hand  I cluck
On thy nose I cock
On thy orders I talk

With your knuckles I knock
With your brain I fork
With your tears I shock 
With your mouth I pork

In your warmth I rock
In your agony I sock
In your sweat I work
In your strength I pluck

Mama Africa I know you sleep not
Your sleeplessness has watered the African root
You have suffered for all that is black in colour
You have laboured  for the Negritude race
You have toiled for the Black Negroes
 
You remain our  source of inspiration
You remain our point of innovation  
You remain our fountain of knowledge
Your innate unique creativity remains our pride

Even if  today is stormy and stuffy 
Yesterday bouncy and bumpy
Tomorrow  will be  juicy and yummy

Mama Africa,
Sprinkle on us ceaselessly the water of life.

Details | Alayande Stephen Poem

Abami Eda (For Fela Anikulapo-Kuti)

Appears the strange Fella
On a stage of many fellows
But not doing “Mr Follow-follow”
Smoking it out the truth
Into the skulls of the VIP
Like no other fellow

Abami, thorning their flesh ceaselessly
Amidst them the Generals
The fella Fela shivers their spines
Telling peole to stop “Shuffering and Smiling”
But General Hog was not done 
Decreed Republic’s demolition

“Zombie” swamp on our Jerusalem
His Mama’s life cut short in Kalakuta
Then came a “Coffin for Head of State”
Abami, gallowed with pant in gaol
Yet, he weeds on with vigour
Kalakuta People’s Replublic must stay

General Swine’s Zombies tortured him
His long skinned trousers appear ruffled
A Fela puffs his way out of the gaol
Yet, his mouth waxes stronger Afro-tune sax
To the great beyond the sky
“In no be Gentleman at all
But for once, he never betrayed the truth.   



Alayade Stephen T.
29th, September, 2006
11.00am



NB-Abami Eda means a strange fellow.
VIP in Fela’s parlance means Vagabond in Power,
And Mr Follow-Follow, Coffin For Head Of State, Zombie,
Shuffering and Smiling are all titles of popular tracks amidst his hit songs.

Details | Alayande Stephen Poem

I Cry Everyday

I CRY EVERYDAY

Why would I cry every day?
What do I do  to stop this weeping?
It is my marriage that brings those tears
Tears of no joy...I mean gnashing of teeth 
Yet still on earth with no intent to visit hellfire

My tears are of an abused lady enslaved 
Trapped in a contraption called wedding
I now know why my other friends wants to be free
Free from the mundane atrocities of a marriage 
Free from the bondages that comes with wedlock

Get away from the strife and knife of the In-laws
My In-laws are bitches of high level degree
Really, they are members of the witches and wizards club
They dine with long nails in their corners
My husband as an initiated one laugh out loud

I am continually ignored as if I was dead
I wish to join their cult when I am at my In-laws'
My presence irritate them from within
Their young ones lack all sorts of manners
I am disrespected at will even with my husband's will

AST
1.05am
15/04/2015

Conjure from a true life story

Details | Alayande Stephen Poem

Beyond Beauty

I whewed unto myself
I whewed unto who cares to listen
I screeched unto them
I warbled unto all

She is a beauty to behold
But beyond beauty
My dear country is suffering
She is suffering from . . . megalomania

My expected willing whee
Became my unexpected unwilling wheel
To which I wee unwillingly 
At the sight of the whittle

Whence forth is my whet to Whelm 
My willingness to willingly will my will
To my beauty beholding beyond beauty 
My dear country is
She is . . . stealthy coquettish.



Alayande Stephen .T
26th September, 2005
2.45pm


NB-Conceptualised for Nigeria's 45 years
Independence Anniversary.

Details | Alayande Stephen Poem

My Daughter's Carrot.

I am sorry,
I am very sorry,
This is for my daughter
I mean my young, beautiful pet.

That was it, the voice of my friend
Who now prides himself
Of another daughter across the street
Only God knows how many of such
I mean those susceptible to his carrot.

Indeed, very young
Full of life to live
Looking innocently attractive
Until he crept into her life.

Her Aunt’s door left ajar
She fell like a pack of card.
He dazzles her Aunt with intermittent gifts
He branded the girl “My daughter”
My innocent friend became a father
And dangles before his daughter a lanky carrot.

As times tickles away,
The daughter not only eats the golden carrot
But she swallows it gently with exactitude

Yet, her Aunt saw no changes
When carrots thickens her sister’s hips
And her flat buttocks getting curved roundly
While her chest pointer getting shaped
Her Aunt still blinded with gifts of “Suya and bread”.

Here comes this day knocking
As my friend’s daughter
Vomits and coughs repeatedly,
She feigned to be well before her Aunt.

“Nothing, I’m okay”
She smiled to her friends
And pretends to all
But grim only at her father

The act got caught short
Not for too long,
Now we all know,
That she has swallowed her father’s carrot
And it got stucked in her throat.

When?, Where?, Who?, her Aunt queried
Three months ago, she retorted
My . . . My . . . My . . . father, she replied.
Before eyes got blinked,
My friend’s was out of town
In search of another daughter.



Alayande Stephen T.
11.05am
4th August, 2007

Spiced up for my good friend Tope and his daughter.
It all happened on my visit to Abuja.

Suya- An Hausa language (from Nigeria) for roasted meat.

Details | Alayande Stephen Poem

Mary, the Father's Virgin

Still,
Of her father
Even after hair in her armpit
After her four years sojourn in our citadel
With puberty wearing her a beautiful toga
She remains in the shadows of her father.

Of a Mary, 
The father’s virgin
Slim, willowy and parrotic 
Energetic, ever vivacious with life
An Amazon of a kind with a flawless curvature
Still, of her a Polyglot not a bigot

Her 21st years day was under his nose
She can neither sneeze nor 
Cough of a man near him
Still tied to her father’s umbilical cord     

She is not Virgin Mary 
Of the Joseph the carpenter
But Mary, the Father’s Virgin
I laugh only to myself 
As I dream and await the day the
Holy spirit will commingle with her 
For her holy pregnancy

Mary, my Mary
Remembering my voyage 
Of innate curiosity to her
And my emotional adventure into her life

Then, only then
As an innocent dare-devil teenager
Yet, I could not unlock her truest life
Oh! She regarded it as teenager’s world 
Of lesser emotional journey

Then, and then
My dream to fly her like an eagle
Was dwarfed by her 

But for many, the father’s virgin
I gave up not
For I like ‘morrow’s dream
Than the history of the past.




Alayande Stephen T.
21st of June 2007
10.15am


NB-Still in Iba, meant for Funke Mary Izobo, 
A friend still tied to the Apron string of her father.

Details | Alayande Stephen Poem

Blood Sprinkle For Religion

A horrendous act
that could only be imagined
as Insidious and contemptuous
Many were massacred
Thousands displaced
The Hausa Militias took over
Zaria was in their palm
A horrendous act
That could only be imagined
As Insidious and contemptuous
Many were massacred
Thousands displaced
The Hausa Militias took over
Zaria was in their palm
The entire Kaduna was under their feet
The violent hollow-minded men
It was religious animosity
That under-bellies an ethnic hatred
These men are insane

Men were butchered 
Women were slaughtered 
Children matcheted at will
All in the Jihad against
Miss World Beauty Pageant
And blasphemy against the Prophet
They unleashed waves of brutal massacres

Houses were razed, churches burnt
Shops and offices turned into ashes
Yet "Allahu Akbar" is echoed
After every killing by the intemperate bullies

Inhabitants of NDA Streets were not spared
The men that carries religious insanity
Majored in Major Street
They became the killing Captain of Captain street
The men in uniform were hapless, yet helpless
These men are enmeshed and immersed in cultism
Of the atavistic and barbarous proportion called Jihad
Sweat of decades were turned to ashes within seconds
The cost of human lives were immeasurable

It was to be and it was
Months of fear
Weeks of tremor of terror
Days of bloodshed
Hours that carries sorrow
Minutes that lacks emotional indemnity
Seconds of bloody tears
Survivors became refugees at the NDA’s field
The only safe place in the land
No food, no water, no shelter
Indeed, no hunger
Except for hunger to be alive

Days where a father shuns family tie 
And strangulate his baby for survival 
Less, the warriors will unearth 
The rest of the family in the hide out
The baby’s cry was a taboo
Gush! The only option was for the
Father to throttle his own baby to death
To keep the other members of the family alive

Many flee without taking a pin
Thousands left behind houses . . . properties
A journey to start all over again
Separation set in 
Frustration envelopes many
For the inanity of men that 
Carries blood with religion.


Alayande Stephen T.
11.45pm
October 11, 2008

An account of brutal massacre occasioned 
By unbridled religion intolerance in 
Kaduna State, Nigeria in 2002 during the aborted 
Miss World Beauty Contest in Nigeria as 
Narrated by an eye witness Latifat of UNILORIN.

Details | Alayande Stephen Poem

Mumbo-Jumbo

MUMBO-JUMBO  

It is a hog-wash
My cube is my space
My space is colorless
Only if I am emotionless 
Our jungle was mumbo
Murmuring the word Jumbo
It is a state of nonsense that makes sense
Collectively we strike like an orange mind
Working as if there is no box
For we refuse to think out of the box

When am moody ...
I became shy off my shine
I am on a cruise to my space
Shilling like there is no morrow
Creating a disruptive space was emotive
 But we did it like a snap of finger away
Unknowingly ... we are turning vampires
Gradually ... our color fading away from red
Seamlessly ... our blood turning orange

Alayande Stephen T.
24/05/2015
4.22pm

At Orange Academy, in a class where disruption reigns supreme, it was Mumbo-Jumbo.