April 12, 2016 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION


Oki Kehinde Julius






hungry kegs go unfilled

at a fast food where pumps splash fluid.

barrels starved to fast the length of ramadan

after jewish wednesday had been burnt into ashes.


angry feet gnashing her teeth

on a long queue that attends to few

sunny fierce burning the skin

splashing rainy lashes on outer meat…


pulling pushing on pointing rows

metaphoring staggers of a fumbling drunkard

buyer raining frailty curses

on the forehead of fuel attendant

chanting wailing nemesis tales

on the looters of our govern-hen.


petrol litres differs from erst-while

prices costing centuries of naira

faces painted like a ripened coal of fire

singing hopeful lullabies to cajole away masses’ worry…


our father’s land, fathered the well of crude oil

our mother earth, mothered the springing pool of petroleum

our bastard sons pierced the line pipes with dagger of vandalisation

our naughty daughters fetch them with a selfish bowl of scarcity.


bikes and cars tearing the tears of famine

engine’s oesophagus thirsty, amidst the dearth of oil scarcity

inflation banging the drum of expensivity on the nation’s goods and commodity

forcing the empire’s swiping feet, to dance to its percussioned bitter tune.


woe to the milky tongues of drought

that suck-dried the sweet candy of our ember fluid

enough of all this saga movie scenes of insufficiency

dramatically acted amidst the reservoir location that founts crude fuels.












give us some diesel

even if it’s just a little

our engines are now thirsty

‘wazobia’ can no longer stop a taxi.


give us some petrol

we’re tired of standing on this roll

we’re no longer in primary schools

why assembling us, before fetching from your pool?


give us some kerosene

before our stove becomes sick

we have abadoned our electric cooker

since electricity had become our betrayer.


give us some cooking gas

our cylinders have no other oxygen to survive

we’ve bid farewell to our fire wood

do not let our strong eba reject our cold soup.


history proved we own oil

her well springs sprang beneath our soil

voyaging bitumen, thin and coal

mining diamond, graphites and gold.


this fuel full here

why is it now found rare?

our gallons are starved to death

since their balanced diet is solemly dearth.


our legs are aching

we’re fed up of queueing

enough of all this saga

that engufed our nation with a hazard

we beckon on our petrol dealers

to bring back our oil to eighty naira per litre.









Oki Kehinde Julius

Poet Oki Kehinde Julius is a renowned and prolific writer who hails from Okitipupa, in Ondo-state Nigeria. He is currently an undergraduate engineering student and a Christian by faith.

Okilux, by poetic name is a spoken words artist whose prowess performance has mounted the boundary of difference between him and other slam performers. He has won laurel in both spoken slam and page poetry. He won the “MOST INFLUENCIAL BEST POET OF THE YEAR 2015” from “Paragon Poetry Contest” in addition to being inducted in 2015 into the “Communty Of Thought And Society” and awarded the position of Writer1 in the League.

His work has featured in both local, national and international magazines and was shortlisted among the Top 30 page ‘Poets that rocks’2015 by BLACK PRIDE MAGAZINE. He was also nominated by TUCK MAGAZINE, among the 168 Writers of 2015 with poetry, article and fiction.

He is currently holding the position of Writer1/Media Officer at CHRYSOLITE WRITERS TEAM and as Moderator at Literary Planet Poetry.


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