I Am Patient

I’ve never been one to salivate

After accolades and exalted seats.

I’ve never yarned to be a role model 

But if I am to become one 

It’ll be of Patience.
I am not talking about

The grammar plundering one

The one whose atrocities 

No court could stand

She broke no civil or criminal laws

She only broke our hearing.
I am talking of the one domiciled

In the P section of my dictionary.

The very elusive one 

That you have to practice to find.
I am patient.

My patience is the type

That prefers beans to rice

My patience has seen me

Languish on the friend zone

Six months too long

But at least I got the prize.
I am patient

Enough not to switch lanes

When caught in a go slow.

I wait.

The clear path will come,

I will coast on it.
I don’t mind the traffic,

Home is assured.

I don’t mind the waiting,

Beans is awesome.

I don’t mind the zone,

She is gorgeous 

I don’t mind patience

When the result is assured.
Don’t however tell me to wait

Don’t preach to me about going slow

When no one knows 

If he’ll capitulate

Or revitalise. 
The least I can beg of him is to move fast.

I do not ask him to break the speed limit

I only ask that he moves.
My flesh Burns and the clinic

Is stationary.

My heart aches and the critic

Is revolutionary. 

If he must go slow,

Let him. 

But don’t preach patience

To the man who burns.

Don’t seal the lips

Of the critic who taunts.
Baba, move

Don’t break the limits

But endeavour to match it

We’ve waited long enough.
Thank God our cards 

Are now made of plastic

It is strong enough 

For the 4 year wait.
(C) Innocent



Some eyes have seen

What many others haven’t seen

Some ears have heard

What many others wouldn’t hear…

Some hearts have ached

How many others can’t imagine!
In those days of solitude 

And unnecessary attitudes

I was broken body and soul

I was beaten inside and out…

But my heart was rock-solid – 

The battle I fought within

My people fought outside.
Now that many waters 

have passed under the bridge

Now that my back is stronger than ridge

You talk of freedom

Giving me my kingdom.
With what strength would I stand and rule?

With what voice would I speak again?

27 years of my youthful days

27 x 360 days of my usefulness

Spent in your wilderness

For your constant bitterness.
Who ever thought you could negotiate

That our tears could bring you fears

When all we asked was EQUAL RIGHTS

Your people thought we asked too much

And must atone our sins with blood…

So like the heavens apart from Hell

We were banished from roaming our land…

But little did they know …

He who is down fears no fall.
I have lost my youthful years

Kins and all my useful friends…

Now you ask I stop the war

When the fire burns inside you

I am Madiba

My people remember.
Only Freedom can stop this war

Freedom alone can break our wall:

Freedom to count for humanity

Freedom as strong as immunity…
Yet, my President!

Do not stand by my side

Declaring me free after my freedom

Do not stand by my side

Telling the world about my kingdom

My President

Just open the prison gates 

And let me walk away.
In loving memory of the Great Madiba!
Angel Dee (C) August 2016.


Is the question on all their lips


Is the question often on trips:

Tributes to their virtuous thieves

The very ones they call High Chiefs.
See, Khaki man loved his people

And wanted them to spend less on crude*

He went to buy them subsidy

The only short term remedy.
He sold the rights to his friends

To turn their crude to something good;

His friends became Oliver Twist

Asking for long term subsidy.
Instead of less they now pay more

For Crude that oozes out of their skin;

Tributes to their virtuous thieves

Dem-all-crazy made them chiefs.
Haven’t they been to Libya…

Where crude is doing very good?

Or far away Venezuela

Where crude is sold for four naira?
Tributes to their virtuous thieves

Who made the tailors dress in rags;

All hail their virtuous High chiefs

Who made the butchers eat the bones.
Credit: Oladele Madamidola


LIFE is beautiful
As beautiful as diamond
Diamond, a treasure dug out of dirt 
Dirt, a word attached to penury
Penury, a name for low life
Low life, an unpredictable situation
Situation, a dicey condition
Condition, dilemma of mission
Mission, package of determination
Determination, the road of actualization
Actualization, the birth of vision
Vision, the hope of commission
As priceless as diamond
Live, laugh, and love


who am I? 

The one who lacks a place to lay his head

Termites, flies and rats are my friendly foes

Mama bunmi’s waste bin is my regular kitchen
who am I? 

The boy with tattered clothes

whose mother’s shop is at the tail end of that famous canal

This canal, my source of drinking water

who am I? 

The kid whose father is unknown

The one nurtured by she who might never know him

mama’s mental illness didn’t give a sign 

I will never leave her 

wait a minute

I’m all grown up

the name couldn’t be wash away

the street held on to my garment

I’ll not relent

mama oyoyo

I board destiny bus

dinning with kings was not easy but I did

my skills amaze them

wanted by all

the mad woman’s son is now the celeb

I am made from the the street

I now dress like a king

spoke as a leader

erased mama’s insanity

who am I? 

I am the homeless boy who is not hopeless

Although, terrified and oppressed by circumstances

chased away from your door step because of my appearance

never allowed to talk to you because mama laugh too much

but, here and now

I am made by the STREET. 

Photo credit: Dara media



Clock is ticking
Time is running
My heart is racing
My hopes are fading

Gazing on the lonely road makes me want home
I tried pulling together but all went apart

My dreams, my vision,  my hopes and faith
Left me without a notice
I stood in the middle of a crowd yet felt alone
The cruelty of life dawned on me
Until last minute

I flipped through the pages of an holy book where a word hit me
Go in this thy might and do exploit
Meaningful yet meaningless
Grabbed the statement of the last minute and ran to the holiest
For interpretation or intercession
Indeed, last minute, not of the lab kid but of the supernatural man
Last minute of grace and testimonies restored
For last minute of mortar defers last minute of immortal.