LIFE

Life can be good anywhere, so says a gist;
How it goes, is what you make of it.

To be born with a silver spoon;
That’s a good start, though thinks not a goon.

Learning can be an advantage, not to a fool;
Only if applied, would there be gain in full.

Failing to plan is like planning to fail;
Unlikely, would anybody a fool’s failure hail.

When opportunity at your door-mouth lands;
Foolish it is be not to hold it with both hands

Hard work hasn’t been known to kill any;
But avoiding it has led to the death of many.

There’s no such thing like marrying a bad wife;
But if often, hits you then, you’re on to a bad life.

If you grow old, it’s good any day for you to die;
But otherwise, what your wife has to say is a lie,

If you died, with cash and property loaded;
On a farewell party, nobody needs to be goaded.

If you leave a will, thinking that that’ll do it;
You’ve got to think again, mistresses don’t go for it.

 

 

 

GEORGE AMADI

Ritual Executioner

Oracle, an eclipsed, reddened sun
His superstitious mind freaked out.
Unrepentant pagans, like him, by an
Unquestioned age-long belief, swear;
But although, an unequivocal proof
Such an awe-inspiring myth lacks.

Thrice, in vain, growled in hysteria
A thief that stole a sacrificial goat;
To the gods, his blood on iroko tree,
Spilled like chicken-pox, destined was.

Mass-Server Chibuzo, in solemnity,
Thrice, on his knees, the altar bell rang
And Holy Communion approaching, Adia,
A lone voice, hymns her best shot gave.

A former ritual executioner, Obi, now a
Convert, “Mea Culpa” mouthed.
His very first words, as Christian,
Out went In search of a new start;
No veil can sins from him now hide,
What’s left is for “Alleluia” to ring loud.



Lagos, May 18,2013

GEORGE AMADI

Time It Was

Tufts, which from my unshaven face grew,
Mocked by a mirror worn over time,
Yet, in the morning sunshine
Basked in the rays of light,
An itchy chin set on fire.

Time it was
In the prime of my youth
When growing a beard,
Which the lips barely left visible,
A sense of adolescent rebellion
Rewarded, more so, at a time
My Fatherland with a civil war contended.

Time it was
In the prime of my youth
When looking good was everything;
When dabbing a cut chin with Old Spice,
Trying hard a smooth face to give your baby
Who had guys lined up, if you didn’t play ball.

But there comes a time of mourning in your life,
When having a smooth face for the girls
Must take a back-seat; when
Feeling good, looking good
Into the dust-bin of vanity
Discarded should be.

For twenty-one days and as many nights,
What a sad time it was,
Did I, unshaved, in utter surrender
To itches, unfriendly remarks
Remained, my focus,
On heavenly delights,
For the soul
Of a beloved sister riveted.

 

 

 

GEORGE AMADI

 

 

KC Cadet Unit

'Left, right, left, right...',
that, I liked,
My self-esteem at King's
it surely hiked.
The Mark-IV rifle, though,
long and heavy,
Didn't scare me one bit,
such costly levy.

I, my haversack loaded
to the brim,
Went nowhere near the
Pacific Rim;
A first-class shot, not once
war saw,
But yearly did brawl in a
mock war.

Aright, still, King's Cadet
Unit plies,
Oh, how quickly, indeed,
time flies.
If given a chance again
to present arms,
proudly, that, I'd seize
with open arms.

Inflation's Not A Notion

No time by a neck's scruff to be held,
neither a word said nor any heard;
yet looks piercing accusations spat,
no parting embrace or a gentle pat.

As went man penniless, so flew piss,
to Africa a thought on whys evokes,
for another day a subject to broach,
on the hows, I'd let go, no reproach.

Grumblings, fratricidal war preceded
sychophants over plunder presided.
Rulers unelected autocracy craved,
their captives armed faces braved.

Tyrant, ever hoisting a fist clenched,
like an emperor, his will entrenched.
Lots stole, fittingly, by a kid got shot;
until slain, poor folks no respite got.

As words from a PC keyboard spring,
so will tyrants patriots kill in Spring.
Unto citizens alert belongs a nation,
to them inflation's not just a notion.