Some Poems from my (Simpa Omoluabi'slatest book of poetry 'The Horseman and The Lord'

To memory &my poem ‘Oedipus is Man’

A laurel of carrion flowersfor carrion birds of the literary firmament.

There is nothing worthy about being the patient scavenger

Itis the nature of the carrion crows,they make a feast of cadavers.

A thief online masking in pseudonyms, the online literary synonyms

OfBoko haram the plagiarist the ‘book-haram’ thieves,

This is no robinhood shrewdness neither promethean

For they were shrewd to give humanity a beefy feast

And not one that make humanity a feast of carrions.

I wait for one skeletal example to manifest in cadaverous flesh

And I shall do you the autopsy of a skeleton barely free

From our shadows, and I may not even show you for

You may see the skeleton concealed in a dead work barely fleshed

The work of the plagiarist a carrion flower a putrid rotten originality.

Be watchful of the plagiarism of shadows of death, it is a price of liberty.

The vulture is a patient bird they say

But one who makes feast from being the patient scavenger

And no one wants to be invited to such a feast except carrion birds.

History is necessary a background check of the origin of such natures

Of robbery night robber midnight robber armed robber book robber

© Omoluabi S. Simpa

THE ALMIGHTY GOD IS SATAN: (reason for the must-not-mention name of God)
Riding with savage nobility with no sword but scales
I hurt not the oil nor the wine, hell followed not me but I wish it did
To burn the ‘House of Lords’. I horseman wine-lover with scales
Advocating for a balance in quotient of our crude oil,
I centaur with my hoofs drumming the heart of God
To the rhythms of Olokun-Dionysus to give the lord heart attack.

The Gates of GOD is the spiritual birthplace and the ‘watchword
At Heavensgate’ is the Lord our uprightness Christ our Lord 
The child of God the uprightness of man risen once and for all
By which beyond the night of death‘all’ shall climax in heavenly ecstasy
Within the Gates of GOD vaginal beyond imagination.

All ye gaddamned polytheist and pantheist, gaddamned pagans
Goddamned to suffer in the wilderness as eunuchs outside the Gates
Can only be redeemed in Christ your uprightness to strike parent-GOD
For the price of heaven’s homecoming is committing the original sin.
And all ye idolaters for rejecting ‘Christ’ your uprightness
For rejecting to commit the original sin all ye idolaters stand impotent
Before the Gates of Heaven the Gates of GOD Babel
From which we are originated, and Angelus domini Lucifer archrebel
Set to kill the LORD to give the LORD a cardiac arrest,
For GOD is Satan ruler of Babylon the Slavegod the gods tried to recreate in Eve,
And Adam the horseman the one who initiated the debacle of Eden
With the help of Lucifer the help of Olokun for Almighty GOD is Satan
And the original sin is slavery and hardship suffered in the land
Where you are son of the soil Aganju child of the soil Adam made from the earth.

The LORD IS SATAN cry at the roof tops the LORD IS SATAN
And this is not hallelujah, this is not hosanna
Far be it from hosanna far be it from hallelujah!

Olokhae is the variant of Bacchae for Olokun as Dionysus in the play ‘Adam and Eve and the Marriage God’

© Omoluabi S. Simpa

LXXX

See, do not hold your mirror of a moon

Against me for too long face of the noon;

Behind the rite I hear your smack and hiss

Like I and Margaret at a broken kiss.

Gracing my porch nubile Nubian pillars,

From wheat of dreams they separate tares.

Arise o Sunlight, come outshine the stars,

Daybreak be quick to eclipse my nightmares.

Hail me that who scrubbed with her tears

And on the stairs rising the Sun did spread

The nose-bleeding dream carpet of her fears

For the pollen feet of the Sun to tread:

You are the harbinger Edo Maiden

That unwound the morning into my den.

HEART OF LIBERTY (beginning stanzas)

All things began with a virgin whored

nothing began until Love was made.

                       In the beginning Love was made,

and there was a rite, there was a sacrifice,

the orchid of the seasons,

it ran red an endless rage of red:

backstabbing the Virgin of the era

the Love of God the Love of ages,

heartbreak of the world.

To You whom I try to know in the shrines of light,

the Florist of heads,

make me bouquets to take to the ones I love.

                       Flowers out of the shining,

Ikemefuna...

Hemorrhage on the earth,

the heart of the universe was the meeting place,

the earth was the conclave of the gods:

they had their conscience soaked

in the relentlessness of the wound of a heart,

no stain could be purer,

nothing pure could be purer:

the laurels of the first Virgin

haunted the gods...

They washed their feet

in the blood of light

and the everlasting contingence

was that the thought of light

became their shadow of agony.

Chosen from the laymen

the high ones across...the lambent petals

harrowing deities.

The Patient Dog (A flash sonnet)

Fourteen year Mumbi, her elder siblings and father

arrived the new refugee camp, Katakuta, last night.

They were apportioned a tent,

each given an aluminum bowl, and were told

whenever they hear the bell ringing it is for feeding,

so the bell rang this morning

and they joined the food rush.

Afterwards Mumbi returned tearful.

Her father asked, ‘What’s the problem?’

She responded, ‘I got almost nothing.

I was being patient for the rush to die.’

The father replied,

‘What else does the patient dog ends with

after others had licked the meat?

It ends with nothing but the bone.’

SONNET 59

Who sees the wind? Who has eyes for the wind?

But still the wind suits its nudity

With leaves dead and dry quick through the city.

Let the wind suit itself though we see her with eyes blind.

Who was is it that fell asleep at Olokun’s waterhole?

Who was it that fell asleep sitting on the bamboo pole?

Who would it be but the great Alamu

Who sweetens with palmwine his akamu.

He who gathers honey gathers a good thing,

He who gathers falsely is the vulture that invites

His community for a feast of carcass.

If you come to visit me remember not to bring

A feast full of lies, but bring of truthful rites

For the wine of truth is gift to heaven’s pass.

Oedipus Is Man (Sonnet 30)

Oedipus is a fit case for mankind

Allegory for our industriousness

That by ourselves we shall make ourselves blind

In tune with the mantid that gross darkness

Shall fall on the world, visions of the isle

Of Patmos, bringing a walk down an aisle.

Should we be hopeful like the Prodigal?

Should we accept our fate like Frankenstein?

Is it to a fearsome end so dismal

We ride a fate stronger than any rein?

I’ve killed the white cooing dove in a heart

I have drank the dew of poisonous blossoms

I have sweetened my cup of tea with nectar of deadly flowers

And now I uphold icecone fire to the immortal secret.

To the play ‘ADAM AND EVE AND THE MARRIAGE GOD’

That Adam refused to slay Eve

That Prometheus failed to snuff the life of Pandora

That Prometheus or Adam absconded with Yemoja

That Adam did not destroy Eve

The gods sought revenge without repentance.

And Adam gave the gods a wound for a heart

For they were heartless, they were the lord, the slavemasters.

The gods menstruated without cease

And the ultimate crime was that Adam refused to kill Yemoja,

Adam refused to kill Eve.

Adam is Prometheus caught in the put out paradox.

And Adam gave the gods a wound for a heart

A wound that bled like a woman with an issue healed by Christ.

The gods on flashback told themselves a fancy,

A fancy of Perseus beheading Medusa,

Wishing they could reverse the irrevocable

Wishing they could revoke the irrevertible

Wishing Adam had destroyed Eve, instead Olokun Adam slew.

Adam rode into Babel with Eve

Adam drove into the towers with Yemoja

Adam or Prometheus drove in with the source of light

And by an indescribable beauty, a mornster, an enslaved nation

Were electrified, lightened up and enlivened

They ran amok in ecstasy into a freedom of expression

In a freedom of speech, and the towers

Like breasts peaked and arranged against the sky

Was brought to collapse for Babel tower was the tower of imperialism

The story of the tower of Babel is the story of primal slavery

Into which Adam rode in with the beast, for Eve was the beast.

Must-not-mention Name of God (Sonnet 32)

Our Turtle doveliness with a battlefield for heart

Sing us wild with vintage-chorus wild with nectar-song

That I, an implanted aster with the burden of proof

In the scarlet soul of the Infinite, beneath a blue-sky roof

At the worship place of lightning and blood play my part

In this macabre four stage act of a requiem song.

If Oedipus is man and man God by surname being heaven’s children,

That Oedipus had his mother for starters it means

The fertile farm patch of God is tilled by the child, true,

The queen-bee by which all is begotten, the mother.

I black lark of paradise dare not to concur

I telltale laden cock of the Garden fear not to concur;

The wording for the one that fucks the child must be

The incommunicable name of God in the Hebraic code.

Belshazzar ‘MĒNE, MĒNE…’

Suffused with penis envy,

Suffused with phallic jealousy,

The inbirth of vengefulness,

The innate desire to strike back.

Heaven is not for the weak minded one

The heavenly minded will tell you

Heaven is for the strong.

We are all desirous with the needfulness to feel strong

The desire to be capable of penetrating the heart of others.

And the authority ruling with the rod,

the corrupt presidential authority,

The estafa gubernatorial and parliamentary authority,

All slave commanders of hardships,

Legislative captains piloting us, the commoners, in hardships,

And in hardship the human heart harden in evolution

And thus the genius loci in ‘Naijaland’

Is become homosexually stimulating,

We are all become faggots

For our minds are toughened like the rod of steel

Against an uncircumcised orgiastic establishment ruling a rod.

But then becoming ‘homosexuals’

Should be a strive to give heart

To a heartless government,

Give them a heart as Adam gave the gods a wound for a heart.

And unto you el presidente Belshazzar and your acolyte Babylonia captains

Of ‘Naijaland’ I say: ‘MĒNE, MĒNE, TĒKEL, U-PHÄRSHIN’…

Tears Of Doves (Sonnet 28)

Each tear you shed child

Is a million moments of drowning if there be hell

In the offing of hell for a Boko-haram that touches you;

So cry. Child your tears have gathered

To a crystal confluence of tearpond;

Tearpond precious than the rivers of Jordan

Precious than the waters of Medina

Tearpond before which the waters of any holy land is unholy.

See my eyes they turn hibiscuses’ red

Night and day crying tears of loss for you.

See your eyes, they ruby with tears;

The eyes of my dove are the defiance of rubies in captivity.

The eyes of my dove are immaculate red

With blood brighter than the fires of revolutions

Ablaze on her wept-tide face, my child my sister my daughter,

Child whose broken being bleeds the brightest ever,

Child whose broken being gushes incarnate red in my soul.

SONNET 46

So immeasurable our sacrifice long beyond continence

That unfortunately nothing could dissuade us

From finding the truth of corruption so erotic,

And with hard minds we have become combatants of fortune

That we said: to hell with the prophylactics, and this action

Of flagrance has left the resolute marrows of our nationhood

Venereal stricken. We should feel tearfully sorry for

Ourselves that two demagogues… raises so much excitement.

Is it the brain drain that has left us with two demagogues

As eligible statesmen for presidency?

It inclines to suffice we are impotently endowed.

But then let these two demagogues and their henchmen

Know that whatever may come this is it;

In the disclosure of the secrets that reveal the lies

A prolonged sacrifice turns us all to swordsmen,

Petrified, stiff sacrifices make the heart long for the battle field.

SONNET 49 Babylon Babel’s tower, tribute to Prophet Moses

Babel the slavery empire where souls did beseech their lords

Like gods who enslaved them to build on earth a kingdom heavenly.

If this be the gates of God the Lord must be queenly

And the speech of God is the freedom of speech.

Mon amour know that if I had a tower to build           

You shall be the ideal model, by you one sees the true tale of Babel

and glossolalia where liberty, independence was sought from the

imperialist by slave colonies like in Nigeria speaking diverse

tongues and other colonies who in anarchy like in Babel fought to

be free, and like you the dreadful beauty of the uprising

Wild with uncontrollable ecstasy, they rise up in arms,

In solidarity moved with the ‘watchword at heavensgate’

And fought to give the heartless lords a wound for a heart.

SONNET 66 Jephthah’s Daughter

The gods spited Eve spited Yemoja

Due to weakness for Adam the horseman

For unlike Jephthah’s only child and daughter

Eve could not honour them with her death but ran

And Adam became the horseman of death

For the great mask of death was worn by Eve.

When he unveiled her he could not believe

The beauty he saw and straight for the Earth

They took great flight, fugitive from the gods

And they were called the strange maiden love birds.

What kind of God would accept Jephthah’s sacrifice?

A manner of God so longing for ‘pure’ orifice.

Jephthah’s daughter was braver than the whole of Israel put together

And she was left nameless in the holy book like David’s mother.

(Fragments of a poem written in twenty-syllabic tristichs)

In the great light of truth

Fowls of power failure night birds

Owls sunglass their myopic minds

Out of gloom they loom

Unsloughed offshoots of dark minds

Bokoharam come for Moremis

Masquerades of our gloom

Weighing down in forests

Captive hearts with millstones of hardship

Oduduwa means our gloom

Babel is Babylon

And Bokoharam the masked ones

Bokoharam masquerades

Of oduduwa of our beloved

Babel Nigeria

See them Bokoharam

Uncircumcised manifestations

Of the shadows of death

O, we see the king coronated

With sunglasses masking

The eyes symbols of light

Oduduwa means our black heritage

Bokoharam vi’lates

Our black heritage

Bokoharam like all monsters

Thrive at night but are false mornstars

They are false starlights.

Bats need sunglass

For the eyes of the mind

My king take off them sunglasses for daylight

Yemoja, Eve, was worn the mask of death

By which sunlight was eclipsed

In Paradise

If thou king art a bat

Then you’re head of the masked chorus

In this gloom of our hardship

Best man Adam horseman of the engagement

Come unveil the mask

And cuckold your lord

Revelation horseman

I smell the apocalyptic scents

Of the engagement wound

Adam centaur of truth

Riding away with beauty

Wave your trophy the mask of death

In still silence

Hearts of Fatimas ache

Come lift this yashmak of my Eveline purdah

That others wish you in disguise

Is the true evil;

Let’s dispossess all masks of Eve

FOR THE MAIDS OF CHIBOK

Nightmare in a chimerical splendor of ember-hearted pigeons

moving aloft to the sunset

while women, old and young, out of grain fields

bemoan the seraph of daybreak in the dunes of nightfall.

Of over two-hundred dove eyes enflamed with blood

tears in God’s cruet to make pure the cry ...

Essence from twilight petals may we not fail to distill

of the martyrdom of the hundreds of Chibok maids,

that we may dephalliateBokharam

and by projectiles send them homewards

where they be eunuchs of paradise.

Initiated in the age of the stars, violation is the original sin,

when the origin of man, the origin of dawn, was sacrileged...

a stardom prenatal desecration of the sacrifice for life, 

an incursive cud chewed in the maidens of Chibok and more.......

Tell the world, ye sunlarks of the nebulous,

that the altar of truth is the secret of the beautiful,

that the power of beauty is the precious touchstone

of righteousness, and truth is the power of beauty,

the center of attraction to the bearers of the inconstant blades of justification.

From the stain of roses may heaven vindicate her poet,

may beauty uphold all from the fall of grace.

O force of beauty, the centripetal image of the messiah,

make the midwives of rebirth in the moon tide dance

to the rhythms of valour weaved by eagle hearted tattoos of the supra maidens of Chibok,

and of the ineffable flowers, tribute of God to your souls O maids

feed my terrestrial taste with honey,

honey made from nectars of the everliving flowers of the sky.