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Do Not Ask Me To Love You If You Will Not Change My Name. 40-43

I am a writer, a customer care rep, a business administrator, a lover of life and a successful single lady who sees every child as hers.


I am flapping.

I am flapping.

I am flapping,
I am flapping,
just watching you perch
on me.
Eyes dark as eclipse:
Picks love from my eyes,
Placing it in my heart -
cutting off break down.

I am clinging to my desire,
my nest of love,
where I have kept my eggs:
for all to see;
that I too can grow

My walking mountain,
strolling on waters,
and locking up caves
from love pirates;
whose lust I cannot endure:
As my superman approaches -
They bow in loss,
For he: Turns red carpet
at the sight of me,
and I flap my way through:
In the oxygen of love.
Bring me my kalapaka.

In lime light
She sits
Waiting for kalapaka
To bring in tea,
Struggling -slow
Fat lungs
Bubbling words,
Forming names
I was not called in the sixties.

Haa my kalapaka
Is grown,
I knew he would be
Twice my problem:
He comes
Fetching glasses
Instead of milk.

Who shall call in,
Stroll baby,
To help this kalapaka,
We blind only to the west,
The north is ours eyes,
And south has stolen our ears.

I walked a mile on a spot,
Ate a meal all my life,
Said those words to one person,
Within decades till a century was born.

Some fade on the way,
Others give out,
While others do not try:
I entered with him as a lover,
Then friend,
Then enemy,
Then sister,
Then aunty,
Then mother,
Now am relative.

Now am relative,
He loves me more:
The one who remains
Wears the crown
Of woven vows:
If six a.m,
Was the same as twelve a.m,
There would be no crows -
You must live,
Before you learn to live,
There must have a name,
Before nicknames.
He is now -
My kalapaka.


Running Over.

Running over.

Sixty seven percent is
On Jade George,
Twenty three o clock
With a circle of messages,
H2 is waiting,
Network is smiling,
Renewal is done,
Rotate like an opening
Ring like an alarm
Crying to wake me:
Shading eyes
Doing business it planned with time,
Summing up my life
For the day.

I meet a boy
Fishing money,
I meet a girl
Fishing money,
I meet spirits
Fishing mankind,
I am watching
Reading each page
Page it;
The world is more than we know.

I see what you do not:
Running over
Everything is running over,
The gutters over the road,
Food over stomach,
Man over woman,
Money over beauty,
Time over date
And our calendars are changing.

Do you notice
The dark notes falling from the sky?
We are running over.


The things I love to do.

The things I love to do

Lies in the mouth of a cobra
Sitting in a desert
Who shall bring it to me?

Lies in an empty world
Nameless in creation
But rotates in the sun
Who shall take me there?

Lies in the shadow of a lover
That belongs to my father
Who died before my father was born
But kisses me Only when am in a deep sleep without dreams
Who shall bring him to life?

A small world,
A big heart,
A tiny bug owns:
A flat mind,
A shy vision,
A simple smile has;
Of the one he calls -
My love .


Traditional Mother.

Traditional mother.

I am woman:
I am wrong,
For I cook:
I must fault,
I look good:
Bad labour,
I talk to a male:
I cause his anger.

Her son kills,
Kills to save him,
Her daughters are victims,
The guilty plays his record
But mother tradition tells
Her outsider son:
all daughters are troublesome.

All men are right,
Remorse is wrong,
When her daughter says -
You hurt me:
Why should I care?
She asks,
Character and attitude
Are groomed for men,
Do not display such clothing
To a fellow woman.

A pretty girl must dance,
A pretty girl must sing,
A pretty girl must laugh,
Only for daddy,
Only daddy loves his pretty little girl.

To traditional mother -
Daughters are a price,
Some goods in
Lagos market,
That must be sold,
And bought with Jade
Such peal only her neck wears.

If traditional mother smiles at her female,
Then know smile has earned a fortune,
To mother of tradition:
Only son's are worth her smile even on a staving stomach.

Why do I not have a name
Why do female's not have a name
For our children to answer,
For our linage to pull:
Mother blames me
I blame her
We blame domination.

The end.

The end. Thanks for reading.


© 2020 Jade George Anibor

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