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Babatunde Aremu

Loneliness

It is colder when alone
People are warmth garments
That keeps us warm in the cold
A tree that stands alone
Is vulnerable to whirlwind
There is no life in loneliness
Loneliness is void
You are lost in loneliness
There is no identity in loneliness
Two is better than one
Three is God's completeness
A multiple of people around
Is a great blessing
Wealth is incomplete in loneliness
A rich man devoid of people
Is like an ensnared lion
Show me your people
I can tell you
The expanse of your wealth

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Simply Me

I am a good listener
I heard my elders say
The generation of goats
Does not keep malice with pastures
The flocks of sheep
Has no adversary in market place.
Cattle-egret becomes a celebrity
Community of birds are envious
I have no foe
I take life very easy
Keeping one pace at a time
I am simply me
Always ready to keep friends
Many like my guts
Others condemn my audacity
But I am simply me
Through trials
I am myself
Never fret about tomorrow
Having faith in the creator

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Sometimes

Sometimes in life
It is sweet like honey
Sometimes in life
It is bitter like bile.
Sometimes in life
The drum beats rhytimically
With the dancers steps
Sometimes in life
The musical instruments are discordant
Life is bi-polar.

You may be a castle owner today
It will be another person tomorrow
You are a messiah today
You may be a villian next day
The tossed coin
Lands with either sides
Whatever side of the coin you have
Never despair or over joyous
The pendullum may swing

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Forgive Me

No one dare interprete pigs squeal
No art can know the heart contents.
When I offend, you ask me
For there lies our friendship root
Try not to hold me in your heart
Call me and let me know.
Forgiveness is a good drug for amity
Forgiveness is a tonic that unites
It is the manure for flourishing.
We are bound to diasgree
Know that true friendship solidfies when we talk
Frank talk based on forgiveness may be bitter
But know that from bees that sting
Comes the sweet honey
Let us learn to forgive each other
For there lies the world peace

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Ink Is My Blood

I am a poet.
There is ink in my blood.
I flow through lines
As a river meandering its course.
My blood is ink,
Ink is my blood.
I give life to the depressed
I flow to educate
I flow to enlighten
I meander to caution
I wriggle to chastise
I correct ills in the lands
I flow beyond borders
I flow through out the world.
My ink flows ceaselessly after my departure
It flows to the land I never tread
My ink is my life.
My ink may look ordinary
But it is a potent force.
My ink does not faint

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Come Back, Brother

I have brothers
Yet I know them not
They live far away
In the hearts of Americas
Down the lanes of London
In the far east sunshine
Seeking for the golden fleece

I have many brothers
Yet they are invisible
I am not acquainted with them
Yet they wire currencies to me
Vide the Western Union
I cannot touch them
Because they are far removed

I longed to see my brothers
I longed to touch them all
Let me embrace them once
Let me see them face to face

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We Are Worried

We are worried
Our once prosperous land
Is now a beggar

We are worried
Our incandescent light
Is now blurred

We are worried
Love no longer co-habits
On our wide streets

We are worried
That brothers slaughter brothers
All in the name of God

We are worried
How vultures prey
On our commonwealth

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Our Roads On Earth

Each trip commences with a step
We all have trips to make
We traverse different roads in life
As one goes up
Another goes down
Some go through long roads
Others have shorter paths to tread
Our daily trips are divine
As we journeyed towards life trips
Some roads are bumpy
Some are smooth
Some have stamina for marathon
Some move faster in a dash
Either long or short
Trials, challenges, obstacles
Are features to wrestle with on our roads
We need to be resilent
We need to damn odds
Whatever lane of the roads we are
Steadfastness is needed

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So We Are Now Refugees

Little drops from heaven's ballister
Ceaslessly falls upon our land
Heaven weeps on us without remedy
Our land is excessively watered
Gutters are fed to yhe throats
Rivers rages above their banks
Furrows are submerged with ridges
Our farmlands suddenly vamoosed
Our homes are sacked by floods
From upper Benue to down Niger
Our homes laid postrate in floods
Old people cry for help
Mothers screamed for washed away children
Lives bodies float on water surface
Hues reign in our habitations
No more homes, no more land
Floods has eaten over our land
No more glitter in our birthplace
We are now refugees in our land

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At The Front Row

What is after the sixth number
Surpasses the seventh number
He who must lick the honey in the rock
Must care less on the fate of the axe

Many request to be made kings
They like the garments of kings
They want to be called his majesty
But the clout to serve is not in them

Many wants the crowns on their heads
Yet they detest the process of making the crown
Many never realised the crown is heavy
He who must wear the beaded cap
Must be skilful in in serving

Although the front row looks sweet
The front row may be tempting
He who must lead
Must be ready to forgo all

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