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Awoh Kingsley Awoh Poem
The Naughty Pen
She loves my naughty pen
Little wonder why her bunk shook
The last night I visited
Between the boards of her heart my verses are vast
Written with unspoken words
Littered with love language
Only her heart can decode
The naughty pen’s code
She loves my naughty pen
Because of its beautiful rhymes
The reverie of having my pen made her snore
As we snore
I swim through her imaginations
Exploring and emancipating her innermost
Conquering her doubts
Surpassing her body
Plowing the unknown
Building fences around her garden
She loves my naughty pen
And my pen love her I swear
But I hope she won’t stone my pen to death
For its naughtiness
Even if she does
My pen shall resurrect on the third day
Because no stone can kill true love
She kissed my naughty pen
Like a mother whose child needs lullaby
Caressing my innocent lips with her wet lips
As a baby pen, I cuddled between her two tender layers
Standing between her chest
The baby pen sucks her milk
Thus making her sobbed, saying; ‘crazy baby’
The sand hill stood straight, pleasure mixed with imagery
Dragging the night into an endless quest of possibilities…
Possibilities encoded with lyrics
I gave her my naughty pen the last night we met
Now, she is accusing the lyrics of my pen of being naughty
And yet, she is smiling all the way, asking for naughtier pen
Is it a crime to express my innermost feeling?
Is it a crime to build true imagery and fantasy?
Is it a crime that the mental state of my pen’s imagination is naughty?
Is it a crime that my pen loves her; and she loves my pen much more?
Much more because the frequencies of her heart beat is stronger than Rhythm FM
To my bosom friend
My naughty pen loves you
Stop acting shyness
Shyness is for the weak at heart
My pen is ready to go hungry for a century to proof this;
Ready to surmount Mount Everest for you;
Ready to blow you kisses when the night is dark and fear arises;
Ready to stand by you when the arrows of life rail at you;
Ready to cover you when the night is cold and cruel
Ready to make you feel like a woman
Ready to forgive and forgive, and forgive…
I love you….the naughty pen
Dedicated to Adeola Adenekan
Written by Awoh Kingsley
October 19th, 2012.
Copyright © Kingsley Awoh | Year Posted 2012
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Awoh Kingsley Awoh Poem
Void of you
My life is like a wind
Drifting to nowhere
Tossed and turned
By the ragging nature
Your kisses hunted me down
Capsizing and ceaselessly
Plowing my innermost
Drilling my manliness
Void of you,
My life is separated by miles of realities
Stay with me, my dreamer
Written by Awoh Kingsley
Dedicated to Adeola Adenekan
November, 2nd , 2012
Copyright © Kingsley Awoh | Year Posted 2012
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Awoh Kingsley Awoh Poem
It was not so
It was not so
Before the invasion of the vultures
In those days
When being black makes us thick
When our communion whispers across oceans
When our ties thrust distrust
When our dreams were dreams
When our groans frighten their gods
When our cowries outweigh their currencies
But now,
The invasion of the vultures
Mocked our mores
Crucified our tradition with their crusades
Barter our black gem for arms
Conscript our angels into prostitution
Littering our minds with the doctrines of servitude
It was not so
With their holy writ they stabbed us
It was not so
Before the invasion of the Vultures.
awoh kingsley awoh
Copyright © Kingsley Awoh | Year Posted 2011
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Awoh Kingsley Awoh Poem
Tears from The East
Head chatterd with state law
No fair hearing because the law is
deaf
Executioner groaning with sword
The hot sun ready to sip
Her blood oozes in the midst of
innocency
Arrogant mob mocking her tears
Justice jugging in the jungle
She is
Killed for no just cause
Nature stood aloof
As she groan and moan
Mother weeps endless
Father failing
Desert wailing
The ugly sun in the middle east bleeds
for freedom
Freedom trapped by devils in power
Religion masking and muting our
voices
Today, we weep for Ramata
Written Awoh Kingsley
Copyright © Kingsley Awoh | Year Posted 2013
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Awoh Kingsley Awoh Poem
Eyes glued to the sky
Thumb finger tumbling
Tears cascading from above
Heart filled with grieve and grieve
Encroached of the unknown
Future punctured with uncertainties
Realities gnashed at me
The night settled on my thought
The morning is aging
It is time to go home
Which home?
Where is the fulfillment in these drifts of life?
Must i go home unfulfilled?
O, is this the end of my enterprise in the human cosmos?
Copyright © Kingsley Awoh | Year Posted 2011
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Awoh Kingsley Awoh Poem
MY NAME IS KAIZEN
Bullet oiled with knowledge
Hearts smitten with purpose
As a thin of air, we marched into the street of kaizen
The harvest is cream and green.
We the labourers with our intellectual machetes,
Made and manufactured by functional knowledge
Battered and butchered the dreaded monster called ignorance
The battle line is drawn
We are drunk of knowledge
With planks, nails and hammer,
We nailed a coffin for ignorance
The funeral of the old order
The emergence of the new order
At the cascade of kaizen,
We drank into stupor,
Stupor because we think and act outside the box;
Bullying the status quo
With the incisions of the God factor on our guts
We danced round the camp fire of books
Booking appointment with great minds
For in the opening of books we discovered we have wings,
To fly above illusory limitations
At dawn we chart and chant lyrics of hope for mankind
With the amulets of insight tied rounds our hearts;
At the echoes of the night when nature
Exact snoring on Homo sapiens,
We labourers give ourselves to improvement,
For when lazy minds snore, active minds think
awoh kingsley
Copyright © Kingsley Awoh | Year Posted 2011
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Awoh Kingsley Awoh Poem
I saw him resting his laurels among dust
With dry gin conquering his stenches
A company of skulls screaming
Eerie sounds move through the trees
A hooded noise screaming behind
But I tell the stone to be still
Watching the wind and,
One the ghost came forth
Like a monument I stood among ancients shapes
As the landlord beckon on me, to come forth
I said no, am only but a tenant
He said come live with me without rent
Awoh Kingsley
September 1st, 2012
Dedicated to a cousin who was buried on September 1st, 2012
Copyright © Kingsley Awoh | Year Posted 2012
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Awoh Kingsley Awoh Poem
April 23rd,
The seductive smoky weed descending from Kabiru swept through my nostril
Cracky creepy shanties sneaking
Pulsating stench sneering from gutters
Churning and choky smoke oozing from the BRT buses
Area boys bullying
Police officers begging for spiritual currency
Perputuality and patriotism is our uniform
Confusion descending from the State House
Fashola’s spectacles is missing
Tinubu is snoring
Okada’s boys on rampage
Mama Risikat with assorted bottles of combined
I embraced a cup to shine my eyes
I embraced street live
Growing up in the hood
Swimming with the skally wags and hood rats
My dreams are illegal in Lagos
A meter from my nose
Is a sawmill and smiling garbage as high as Babel
Emeka’s blaring speakers echoing;’ do me, I do you, God no go vex’
Beside me, is a 2 storey house
The city of scam
‘Boys go hamma’
Unliag coconut heads with their effizy
Adeola’s gap-tooth snowballing
My naughty pen crying, ‘chop my money’
At dawn, the muezzin whispering’ Allahu Akbar’
O’ Lagos, your womb is polluted and punctured
Your dreams cut through third mainland bridge
Swaggering and swooning it trails
Lagos, a confuse city.
Written by Awoh Kingsley
Dedicated to Adeola
26th October, 2012
Copyright © Kingsley Awoh | Year Posted 2012
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Awoh Kingsley Awoh Poem
Just this morning, my pen pile
And drifted into slumber
I saw shadows and shame
And,
Babies in the pool of tears
As,
Anarchy crawled in the wombs of his gun
Blood stooped and stumbled
In between his skull
Conscripting his pen of puns
Thus,
Lowering his dust and shadow
To father-earth
In the agony of eternal adventure
His bones wept
Just this morning the author died.
Awoh Kingsley Awoh
September 8th 2012
Copyright © Kingsley Awoh | Year Posted 2012
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Awoh Kingsley Awoh Poem
The cloud is set to cry
Thunder rumble
A sunday in RCCG
Drummer boy in spiritual malapropism
Members of choir malaguena(- ing)
Blue, purple and scarlet yarn floating in the temple
A chest-piece in between my ego
As my thoughts grew larger and thinner
I stood in the company's of fools
Upturning sanity for relativity
In the laboratory of my thoughts
I adulterated truth for thoughts
Questioning the audacity of morality for the concept of anything goes
Romancing with secularism and syncretism
In holy matrimony i stood with duplicity
Igniting animistic junks
Dancing round the camp fire of spiritism
I an offspring of paranoiac
Swam with mundane and nude views
In the harmony of my vain thoughts
A lightning electrocute my rear ear
A voice slashed me like sash, saying
' awake brother, the service is over'
awoh awoh
Copyright © Kingsley Awoh | Year Posted 2011
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