Muse

A muse is

Team relegation

Planting a kiss on coveted cup

It’s missing the last bus

Green lights with the right songs on the radio

Winters grizzly chime

Those long British summer nights

Cancer’s sudden grip

Life at the end of an umbilical cord

Unreciprocated love

Fleeting eye contact across the coffee shop

A sin that torments

Triumph over tempestuous temptation

The death of Mufasa

Employing Timon and Pumbaa’s philosophy

Dark childhood memories

Pretending to fall asleep so dad carries you to bed

More often than not it’s life’s troughs

not the peaks.

How to enter a church

The church doorsteps are where you dust your feet

Shake off yesterday and all that happened in between

Your age, worries and internal rage – off before you take a seat

 

Demographic analysis and political theories aside

Take a minute to dispose your predispositions

Forget your sins – and saintly deeds alike

 

God’s presence is not for introspection

Nor temporary pious humility

It’s for total and complete adoration.

Purple Tee

I got it when I was eight

a purple tee boasting the empire state

 

I wore it baggy

and often got it muddy

 

I wore it to sleep

and often stayed up in it

 

It was the only consistent thing

my growing body knew

 

I wore it in Lagos, Ogun, Badagri, Ilorin

Kampala, Yaounde, Douala, Bonaberi, Bonapriso

and again in Lagos

 

It stuck to me like

a royal crown

 

Tattered and tight

it went in every suitcase

every home

every flight

 

That’s how I learned to

“travel light, travel far”.