THE TRIGGER TALE...part seven

“I think we should take him to the hospital”, as he poured himself some cold water from the dispenser, handing another cup to Atiko.

“Don’t be hysterical! He’s only having a fit of stress- nightmare. By the time he wakes up I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Atiko assured Funki, as she pressed her chest against his. She used her teeth to draw his lips apart…caressed his chin. He kissed her on the forehead and downed the remaining water left in the cup. He threw the cup in a corner and did the same to Atiko’s. They stood face to face to - two passionate lovers- just a breath apart. With his left hand he was unbuttoning her shirt and with the right hand stroking her tresses; she heaved as the buttons were undone. They kissed. He started to pull off the shirt from her body…

“Come on, you shameless he-goat!” Atiko stopped Funki, as beads of sweat began to form a halo on his forehead with his heart beating a hyper-rate. “Remember, don’t forget, no fornicator shall inherit God’s kingdom!”

“Why then have you been leading me on all this while?” Funki retorted, trying to put her shirt back in shape. Rather than button up the shirt he became to caress her chest- Atiko gave him a light knock on his head. “Hey young man, are you going to rape your fiancée!” she said as she gently pushed him away. “Aren’t you ashamed treating a lady this way- in front of your friend?”

“But-,” Funki was protesting.
“But me no buts,” his fiancée quickly cut in.
“But he’s sleeping…” he said finishing his statement.
“No-no-no! if you really want to touch and caress my body when and how you want it make me your wife as soon as possible- until then, embargo on kissing and unbuttoning of my shirt, or trying to be ungentlemanly”.
“What a heck- Miss Moral!”

“Handy!” he jumped out of his chair as he screamed.
“Ozi!” the lovers exclaimed in unison. “Relax baby,” Funki said as he walked towards Ozi, who looked dazed like someone who had just escaped a dragon-guarded dungeon. “It’s a nightmare. You’ll be fine”.

“Come, sit on the sofa,” Funki beckoned. Ozi stood still with the word stupefied describing him. “Come baby,” Atiko repeated the invitation, as she walked towards him. “No, I’m dead!” he said, gesturing to her not to come any closer. “You’re what!” she said- an interjection rather than a question. “Dead man tells no tale, you know? You must be kidding. It’s been a nightmare. You survived it.”

“I was killed,” Ozi said not relenting. “OK. You were killed! Why are you still alive talking? Cut the craps my friend,” Funki said in exasperation. “Just come and sit down dead or alive,” he told Ozi as he dragged him to the sofa. The three were seated. They all sat there looking morosely at nothing.

“Was it all in a dream- some nightmare? I heard people mourning that I had died,” Ozi began looking at his best friend.
“I saw you and Atiko crying uncontrollably…why?” he asked as he threw his hands into the air in resignation. He shook his head and turned his face in Atiko’s direction. She smiled at him as she held his hands tenderly, as if reassuring him that it was just a terrible nightmare and now relax we are with you. He tried to force a smile back but failed; his countenance was of one who was befuddled.

“Do you want anything? You want us to take you to the hospital? Or you want us to leave you alone?” Funki queried in succession.
“Come on dear…don’t bury the poor guy with your questions!” she said. She looked at Ozi again, kissed him on the forehead and said: “Do you want to tell us about the dream; you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Maybe it will make you feel better sharing with us what you just experienced in your dark moment.”

“Do you guys think am going gaga or something like it?” he asked. “Well, I am not a psychiatrist. So I wouldn’t know,” his friend retorted.
“Tell us your dream,” Atiko suggested.

Ozi heaved a sigh. He looked into the empty void and shook his head. His two friends looked at him patiently- they wanted to have a peek into his troubled mind.

TEXTURE OF DARKNESS

glimpses of foggy feelings
outlined in rough texture of darkness
cataclysmic sadness enshrouded
in sunken sockets
of eerie eyes in broken skull

my fears are my self

immortal thoughts bargaining an end
adult eyes immobiled by painted devil
dilating pupils picturing a final closure
deathly sight of holes of hidden hearts

my fears are my self

unshared soul divided by self
self-shut self-hidden self-sold
in dungeon of nothingness
in cold blood of sudden cessation

BOBOLAIYEFA

i am Bobolaiyefa
begging bread on Lagos left-over streets
with the bleating goats and barking dogs struggling with me
i am the common face unknown in the neighbourhood
the miasma that hangs around selfish lives

i am Bobolaiyefa
bending down below earth’s below to feed
on earth’s rottenness
what brought me here is not madness
it is you and my people’s mindlessness

i am Bobolaiyefa
who are you and who is your father?
have you heard wisdom out of insanity?
know not life’s travails yet you claim wisdom
who taught you its lessons?

i am Bobolaiyefa
enter my shoes and tell where they pinch
is everything inch by inch a cinch?
see your incurable madness around me
but how many of you think!

MY SUNSHINE

resplendent rays trickle in
through the cumulus cloth
of sky-high firmament...
flickering flashes of brilliant illumination
set high heavens ablaze in haloed glory

and a beauty peeks...
a pristine eastern magic
with eyeballs like iridescent nuggets
her royal majesty of radiance
an inspiring sparkle of a new dawn
...and the clouds and the winds
and the ground below do obeisance

her words come in dazzling brilliance
of celestial lights
her passion is warming
and her anger searing
she blesses the day warming up a cold
heart of despair...

she is light in darkness...
a passionate visitor that wants to stay for ever
she' s the sun that never sets
the shine that never fades nor flickers
always there like Joshua's sun
Sun sets in the West...
smouldering into ashes of looming night
a live coal begetting cold impotent ashes
but in the heart the sun burns unburnt
with the heart the sun never sets
my sunshine

the rainbow that brightens
may you never set
like Joshua's sun that stood still
may the clouds of life's cares
never hold your shining in its covering cloth...
sunshine you're the glory of the dawn
may your iridescent face
always shine with smiles
and from a trillion miles
may your bliss reach the West...
you're the sun you're the shine
the sparkle of a glorious dawn
the dream of a starry night
may your life's sun always shine.

THE GARDEN

in the garden of my heart
where resplendent meanings adorn
the lingering lushness of passion
where flowering sentiments stand in style
rooted in romantic robustness of my fertile heart...

in the garden of my heart
where flourishing flowers of feelings flaunt
freely like colours caressing a canvass
the canvass of my heart...

in the garden of my heart
where the dew drops perform baptism
on the innermost soil of my heart
awakening finer seeds of bloom to blossom
inspiring the garden of my heart in the colours of rainbow
illumining the crevice of my heart...

in the garden of my heart
i saunter inwardly
to the dainty embrace of one of the brightest bloom
in the garden of my heart
it's like a rainbow coming in a blue moon
and with the glory of a shine that steals through my heart...

in the garden of my heart
i find a flower coming in the glory of a sunshine

you are one of the brightest flowers
in the garden of my heart

DRY MY TEARS...

in the overflow of thoughts and sentiments
over out-stretched arms of fellowship
where the depth of heart transcends every day meaning
i awake
silhouetted in the brilliance of the morning-glory
with misty eyes begging for a caressing-wash...
someone dries my tears

in the space of my fragile heart
through the void of my heavy head
filled with dark matters of unresolved passion and reason
i awake
seared by the noon scorching heat
with wearied eyes blindly open...
someone dries my tears

in the feelings i can't explain and
the thinking supplicating for meanings
opening up my growing mind for what will and what can
i awake
drenched by torrents of dew drops
with blinking eyes bent on a final closure...
Someone dries my tears

i don't know
but, i always love to think
i don't know
but, i swim in a sea of feelings
i wonder
What if am really crazy
huh?
i awake
telling my self i don't know what
i have not known...
with Nostradamus eyes
can i see what the bosom of the future shrouds?
someone dries my tears

sometimes i think
when i think
i think of what i don't know
or may never come to know
sometimes when i feel i know
it is what i have not known
that i know...
with eyes of unknown i seek and peek
into the mystery what will be
and can be
someone dries my tears

someone that is so far
but, undeniably intimately close
whose sweet breath inspires my fragile heart
like the eastern light illumining the landscape
someone whose absence is a lingering presence
a light unburnt; eternally strong and compassionately Intimate
a warmth soothing the innermost nerves...
I awake
with eyes open with some meaning
walking with this light of compassion and unbounded intimacy.

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