OUR HISTORY
By
Gabriel Bamgbose
they said our history is bad
they said bad bad history hurts the heart
they said bad bad history destroys memory
they said bad bad history would break us
we are now one people
we speak with one voice
sit with one black buttocks
sleep in one dream
dream disturbed, though, with blood
blood of innocent victims of our peace
dream ridden with the riddles
of abductions and massacres
dream of confused harmony
that our high priests cannot even interpret
though they agree we have a vision
that should not be distorted
with the memory of our bad bad history
they said bad bad history should be locked
in a locket and with eyes locked
thrown to sink and be forgotten
in the dark sea of the past
but we are the players of that history
we are the history that still displays itself
on our stage even now in a theatre of horror
LOOK AT THESE HAIRS
By
Gabriel Bamgbose
Look…
look at these hairs
they are receding
from the coast of my forehead
very fast than I expected
Look…
look at these hairs
they are renouncing
their shinny black garments
for grave white ones like ghosts
Look…
look at these hairs
they are regenerating
my soft smooth chin
into a dark field of thorn
Look…
look at these hairs
they are spreading
over my broad chest
making a forest of its desert
Look…
look at these hairs
they are signs there for you
that I am old enough to decide
the course my life should take
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