DORA AKUNYILI

I see that you are not the kind to flinch
Despite the blast of a lead chip through your scarf
A tyrant blow…still you pushed on, undeterred
This will pass without debating,
You are a woman with balls
And balls…countable men own in our land
Not so, surely you will be relieved
Of your ailsome task—re-branding
Re-brand me a thousand times…I remain the same
Till you remake my spirit.

‘Mommy! Mommy! Someone’s burning drugs on TV.’
‘Yes, that’s Dora doing a good job.’
‘Does she want more sick people?’
‘No! They are fake…they only add to sickness.’

I hold you in high esteem
For living principle through deed
That’s the heart of a patriot
Nigeria adds you on the list of them.






An excerpt from my poetry collection TENDRILS
David Numshi Musa © 2010
Author, SOLITUDE AND SERENITY

SHE WAS LIKE POETRY

She was like a rich tapestry of lexicons
Wordily woven to convey its writer’s very thoughts
Words stretching into lines, lines making tracks of letters
Cradled in verses of imagery and metaphors
And every ingredient of poetry
Damask! The word that best described her fabric.
She was like rap music
When Negroes took charge of the mic
Spitting philosophies white folks failed to discern
Sometimes rhyming, sometimes freestyling
Sometimes fast, sometimes slow
Emptying their pained souls, showcasing their agonies.
She was like an antiquated note of a symphony
Whose comprehension was lost to history
That only a resurrected genius could interpret.
She was like…
A mysterious renaissance art piece
An equation of codified variables
Mystic writings of the Kabala only Jews understood
A calculus problem of undefined limits
The game of chess to kick start from stalemate.
It all changed the moment I met her

She was like poetry!
But then I pulled her close
And showered on her lyrics she wasn’t prepared to hear
Later sedating her full-mouth French style
The viper had struck, and the venom anesthetized the prey
Flat like a patient, at the mercies of God and the surgeon
Braced up with my paraphernalia, I set to start operating.
I put her in the altogether and decrypted her anatomy
Reordered her permutation and rearranged her combination
And with the skill of a bomb disenabler
I meticulously unthreaded each string of the tapestry
At last, the Da Vinci Code has lost its claim
She was like poetry!
Now unraveled she lies…simple as prose.




An excerpt from my poetry collection TENDRILS
David Numshi Musa ©2010
Author, Solitude and Serenity.

TESTOSTERONE

A scented wave of light air, pleasant for anyone’s taste,
Hurried up my nostrils, caressing their eager buds,
And I could tell it came from the opposite sex.

An eight-shaped figure cat-walked the walk way
Banging her hips from side to side…No, from left to right.
Busts of butterflies from her radiant face
Lift the veil of unbelief off mine.
I’m cured.
Now I’m convinced there is purpose in creation.
This is my long awaited half…my missing rib.

Then I heard the symphony of sublime sounds.
An invisible orchestra bathed the air with infectious music
My heart resonated with their angelic tunes
Harps, flutes, pianos, violins, mandolins…
All kinds of stringed and wind instruments.
Only Cupid is seen, fluttering above her head…
He is not with the singers…Killer! His bow is aimed at me.
He strikes my heart, and I love the pain.

But what’s that sudden nudge beginning to form
With this ravishing sight?
I feel the heat of desire burning
Somewhere between my legs
And I like it…No, I hate it.
Like it…hate it…Damn, I’m a divided man. A man apart.
Who will rescue me from this body of sin?

Now calm down, ‘you’ polygamous brother of countless attractions.
I am determined to do it right.
I will go over and tell her my name, and ask of hers too.
Then we will go home and see my mother and father;
After that, we’ll see hers too.
I have found renewal—not just from this mere urge.




An exerpt from my poetry collection TENDRILS
David Numshi Musa © 2009
Author, Solitude and Serenity

THE NEW BIRTH

Long ago,
At Calvary,
This filth-filled mortal embodiment
Of earth and slime
Found recompense—
A rejuvenation of the soul, transactioned
At the master’s feet—
Pardon for guilt; grace for sin; beauty for ashes…
Of a wherewithal so precious
And red,
The priceless fluid
Of divine atonement.

Before that gracious recall, it played
The proud host to gravely ills
Debauchery, avarice, fornication, sloth…
Adorned with lust and inflamed with infernal covetions
Till there on the cross,
At Calvary,
The old man was crucified with Christ.
And there he died.

A seed must first die
Before a new plant can grow.
Before the new man can grow,
The old man first must die;
Not that he’s sown, but he dies to donate allowance.

Then stepping out
From the pool
Of confessional immersion,
Forth emerged the new man,
Renewedly rebirthed—born again.




An excerpt from my poetry collection TENDRILS
David Numshi Musa © 2009

VICISSITUDE

The voice in the storm was prophetic.
Just as it promised
To unveil shine after the rain,
So it kept its word.
And shine had brought rain,
Also fulfilling its promise.

Before night is day,
And after night comes day.
Each is each’s forerunner;
The hand of one
Is the promise of the other’s.

Once, parents were children
Next, children are parents
Procreation redraws the cycle:
Plants from seeds, seeds from plants.

And the little child wondered
Why people die.
Why you’ll one day die.
Why one day he won’t be remembered.

But so was the agreement. Now forgotten.
To embrace life is to accept death.
And after death is life.

Still he argued it wasn’t his choice.
Sadly, memory is precise in eternity,
When all variation will cease.





An excerpt from my poetry collection TENDRILS
David Numshi Musa © 2009

GONTO

The portrait of your anguished face was drawn
By the untiring fingers…or, rather, your insistent voice of ambition
To see your people become free
Time, energy and sacrifice not for your self
Are the fuel used up
To give to this vision impetus
Now in the gallery of cherished memories
Alongside many others who believed in humanity’s cause
A masterpiece it hangs
Evergreen in our hearts.
Slapped and ridiculed…I heard you endured for the dream…
The struggle still continues
Though many without number have put off the shackles
Zaar now boasts of distinguished soldiers, seamen and aviants…
Of scholars, doctors, lawyers and many in the intelligentsia
And of noble notice, poets.
Oh, how I wish flesh lived way beyond breath
Then you’ll have the mortal chance to always see
Your dreams lived through Zaar offspring
And to receive the compliments scarcely few merit these days.
Still rest
O son of struggles
My pen salutes your courage
Freedom will come with tomorrow…
Zaar will see the hour of thorough liberation.





An excerpt from my poetry collection TENDRILS
David Numshi Musa © 2009
Author, Solitude and Serenity

HALF OF ME (purpose driven)

Sometimes I feel
Like I am serving the world too little
Of my life’s drink
I imagine myself a floating iceberg
Revealing to sailors
Only my tip
While a mountain of me melts
Beneath

Sometimes I think
Life is a cup I need to fill
It seems
A hungry world sits round my table
Craving a taste
Of my dish

Sometimes I feel
Sometimes I think
But all times I know

I know that
God does not play dice
I was born
A product of intent and grand design
To find, realize and fulfill
My destiny

When the passions burn
Within me
Eagerly desiring an outpour
I am like an angry bottled-up wine
About to blast
And rip off my bothering skin
Launching the cork seal rocket high

I am convinced
That the hour lies ahead
When I shall erupt
Like a fuming red-hot volcano
To run my fiery larva ravagingly
Over the plains of earth’s history
Treading my course
Till age wears me cold
And leave behind a rock
Of solid memory
For all man to study
And a new life to evolve





An excerpt from my book SOLITUDE AND SERENITY
David Numshi Musa © 2009