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Never mourn at my funeral
For I’m not dead but resting
On Abraham’s bosom
Waiting for the call of resurrection
Never mourn at my funeral
You who come in view to mourning
But in you, you’re here to mock
For my poetry exposes your deeds
Do my body what you wish
Please, let it be dismembered
To gratify your ruthless visit
Never mourn at my funeral
You the insect that bites my leafy fame
With your toothless mouth of libel
And you who want my fish
To dive in a dry earth
Throw my carcass into a sea of your lot
Like where brother Jonah fell,
But it will be your endless shame
For I’ve seen beyond the river bank of Joppa
Never mourn at my funeral
You that come in my Maker’s name
Just to bless my end
Go thy way and search for lost souls
In the forest of lust and doom
Wear them a garment of gospel
Before they lie low beside me
And journey hell eternal
Never mourn at my funeral
But mourn for we’re all debtors of death
Written by: James T. Abel Adesitimi



Apostles of corruption are:
The electoral-herbalists!
Of our green-white land
Who steal our cowries of vote
To appease their political gods

Apostles of corruption are:
The newly elected apostles
Who have once preached to us
The gospel of sweetness
But later chameleon to be lies

Apostles of corruption are:
The priests and Imams who bow
Their consciences for coloured-papers
And nurse our national termites
With fasting and thunderous prayers

Apostles of corruption are:
The oiled mouths in parliament
Who read the epistles of foods
While their kinsmen at the root
Are dying of starving everyday

Apostles of corruption are:
Our foolish representatives
In the house of loot
Who speak stony vocabularies
While we hold class beneath trees

Apostles of corruption are:
The federal members
Who forced every student
To study their invented selfishness
In the universities of strike

Apostles of corruption are:
Those mice in black uniforms
And the kleptomaniac body
Who make friends with the rats
And the suckers of our national wealth

Apostles of corruption are:
I and you who refuse to go
Against injustice, lust, fraud,
And all other societal vices
In our respective domains



My eyes covered the earth as the clouds
That lie flat above valleys and hills

All at once I saw men and their deeds,
In the churches, along the streets,

Some for me, others against my wish
My servants are trading me in the church

Chasing earthly fame that shall soon fade
Oh! My temples become where I can’t abide

For I am the Lord who sits not on defiled throne
I’m not in their churches,for I, they dethrone

Enthroning earthly styles on their altars
Preaching wealth, singing sin, gathering cars

They’ve forgotten the scars I bore on the cross
They’ve turned what should be my gain to loss

Instead, they put on the white aprons of ego
While them I died for, now in hell, others set to go

I’ll come to them again, pleading in their dreams
If they repent, I’ll lead them to my merciful stream

If they don’t, my silence to their sinful tale
Shall rage my wraths on them on the judgment day

     written by: James T. Abel Adesitimi



I’ve lived here long enough
I’ve seen lies told
Myth that made men rise
I’ve seen truth, with its load
Bold truth that killed many
Behold I have seen death
The mighty laid to dirt
I’ve seen birth
Life made anew
From decaying sinew
I’ve seen pains-
Held hand with life beyond lanes
I’ve seen bliss-
Tasted her lips, synced a kiss
I’ve heard dirges
Songs only sung for the dead
I’ve heard poets
Lines that fed humanity’s dearth
I’ve been blessed,
Don’t know why; I truly confess
I’ve seen true curse
Gifted men who lost their course
I’ve being with the blessed
Men who turned curses to rest

I’ve been here long enough
To know men die an’ never rise
To see slave on horseback an’ princes on foot
I’ve learnt so much
That men lose themselves
In search of someone else
I’ve seen men bleed
Cursed men blessed

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In this dark corner, I bend and brood
On the desolation unleashed upon my land
Such tremulous monody I’m wont to sing
Concerning the crescent and the cross
Two strange visitors outstripping the host
And we like the proverbial mourner,
Crying far more than the bereaved

Divided, we keep widening the gaps
Along both ethnic and religious maps
Each clutching to his parochial beliefs
One says the crescent is better,
The other affirms the cross is nobler
But between the crescent and the cross
Which was known to our forebears?

Let the crescent sliver in the North
And let the cross blossom in the South
But let’s keep to our common humanity
By accommodating our mutual diversity
For we are children of the same parents
Forged from the womb of the earth!

Written by: Basil Ovu
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson


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