SAEFEXPERIENCE

Something in altitude kindles power-thirst Mere horse-height suffices the emir Bestowing from rich folds of the prodigious turban Upon crawling peasants in the dust Rare imperceptible nods enwrapped In princely boredom.   I too have known A parching of that primordial palate, A quickening to manifest the life Of a long recessive appetite. Though strapped and manacled That day I commanded from the pinnacle. Of a three-tiered world a bridge befitting The proud deranged deity I had become. A magic rug of rushing clouds Billowed and rubbed its white softness Like practiced houri fingers on my soul, And through filters of its gauzy fabric. Revealed wonders of a metropolis, Magic-struck to fairyland proportions. By different adjustments of vision I caused the clouds to float Over a stilled landscape, over towers And masts and smoke-plumed chimneys; Or turned the very earth, unleashed From itself, a roaming fugitive. Beneat

Blue diaphane, tobacco smoke Serpentine on wet film and wood glaze,  Mutes chrome, wreathes velvet drapes, Dims the cave of mirrors. Ghost fingers Comb seaweed hair, stroke aquamarine veins  Of marooned mariners, captives  Of Circe's sultry notes. The barman Dispenses igneous potions ? Somnambulist, the band plays on.  Cocktail mixer, silvery fish Dances for limpet clients. Applause is steeped in lassitude, Tangled in webs of lovers' whispers And artful eyelash of the androgynous. The hovering notes caress the night  Mellowed deep indigo ?still they play. Departures linger. Absences do not Deplete the tavern. They hang over the haze  As exhalations from receded shores. Soon, Night repossesses the silence, but till dawn The notes hold sway, smoky Epiphanies, possessive of the hours. This music's plaint forgives, redeems  The deafness of the world. Night turns Homewards, sheathed in notes of solace, pleats The broke

Baby don't move until I say you move, For the love I have for you is crowned with prime, What my tongue speaks my account can prove, Please tell me that you got some time. Oh please gone are those days Davido, Just cut the chase I only whine for the doe, Spray me the cash or away you go, Don't want no love you should already know. Holy shit could it be the money I got, Could it be the bottles I pop, Thought the feelings were mutual apparently it's not, Can be naughty too we party till the panties drop. I am O.B.O I move money in a bullion van, So regardless would have sprayed you the cash, Bitch go get yourself some other plan, You a hoe so I'll be out in a flash.                                                                                              saefhenry osas Original lyrics by davido:

Like cankerworms, They have eaten the womb of the nation, They promised happiness in various forms, At the end we are left with damnation, How then can youths fashion the future? Living here is a certain kind of torture. This is no place else but Nigeria, Where the motto says peace and unity, But division,negativity and tribalism is the main criteria, To eat, live and serve any office community, Fulani herdsmen are above the law and he knows why, The man who only keeps count of how many times we cry. Living in Nigeria alone is a way to die, Yet we walk by each other like we have nothing to say, But you must die as well as I, So why can't we fight for the same thing in every way? We got to face up our fears and look to ourselves, Only then does it make sense to pray and try to make amends. Green lands are for children to play, Tribalism our minds must wash away, Barren lands are for coffins to lay, Where all hopes has died away, I

* nwayi obi * You think she's s utterly evil! So there can not be any good in her, Why? Because you saw her drinking a bottle of Palmi And smoking several sticks of cigar. You then assume she's a either a bad person Or has committed arson. ọ bụghị otú ahụ? * ọ dị mma * When you knew about the abortion You were quick to label her wayward And promiscuous. Oh!!! The insults you rained on Her, You even wish Amadioha would take her life. * cheta * When she wanted to tell you What had happened to her. Ekwunife -do not say a thing yet- you Yelled at her. For you were not yet done with her.  * njedebe nke ndụ * Life, She exclaim!!! While she took a last look at the knotted rope Dangling down the branch of an ebelebo tree. She cried, screamed, wailed, for life has been Unfair to her, Who would believe that she smoked and drank Just to rid herself of the thought of Committing suicide. That the aborted child was implanted in her By ichie Okonta; her lat

HE 4 SHE One stereotype here another there, Calls what ought to be a human right a privilege, To seek out sorrow that dwells everywhere, Rights and freedom, over sacrilege. Do you need the opposite sex to validate your self-worth? Being glad about a new foolish quiet mirth. Men sometimes don’t realize gender inequality is their issue too, They see expressing emotions as a sign of weakness, The injuries that to yourself you do, A little bit of outlaw, a little bit of Jesus. Why can’t men express emotions and be what they please? A buoyant Spirit and a heart at ease. Men who need women to get their shit together are not attractive, Women who need men to be happy are spoilt little imps, Would that your brain was as active, You will realize the difference between a child and a shrimp, Why should everyone learn to cook and do household chores? So you feed yourself, your loved ones and be self-dependent. I had a friend who became a stranger,

He was always busy, serious and hardworking  Just like you.  He will get married to the love of his life Soon, just like you. The man whose dreams scared people away. Only a few knew him, just like you.  He thought his dreams will soon give birth Just like you. He would build a mansion for his parents  Just like you. Not today though, tomorrow is the perfect day to start,  he would say, just like you. He will build a home for his wife and kids  Just like you. Fantasies though, as he awaits the fate of morrow Just like you He was gifted, oh how his writings reduced  Brave men to tears, just like you He would pen down a novel that would win him the Nobel Prize tomorrow, Just like you. But he would wait for that uncircumcised Day  Just like you That an ovation will appease the skeleton of his dreams Just like you. And when things went contrary, he would blame the gods for his ill fate, just like you.  Because his tomorrow was never promised  just like you. He would sleep at night and