Thursday, May 15, 2014


There you are all grown
Flaunting, puffing, sagging
Laying to waste all the glories past.

There you are all rich
Wallowing, selfish, greedy
Stashing away all the common wealth

There you are all warped
Screwed, unthinking, unconscionable
Seeking only the unthinkable

There you are all talk
Wordy, opinionated, arrogant
Doing all talk but little or no action

There you are all shaken
Pinning, hiding, scared
Scaring even the young

There you are all empty
Clueless, Valueless, lacking in foresight
Selling away your children’s future.

There you are all trapped
Surrounded, boxed, hijacked
Sitting through the ignoble national shame

There you are totally clueless
The ignorance of the butterfly
The freedom you enjoy
The wealth you took for granted
The communion you forsake
The wisdom you disdain
Built on hard work of heroes past.

Your butterfly doesn’t know.

Femi Osikoya
© 15 May 2014

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

As we #BringBackOurGirls

The fleeting crest 

Like tow after the wave

Soon dissolves 

Soapy at first

Clear as nothing in the end

Heralded with much vexation and bravado

This wave is sure to break

The raging sea will calm

A new dawn will leap

Hope will speak anew

Joy will bloom again

Sacked settlements will merry

Our giant shall awake to slumber no more

As we #BringBackOurGirls.

BBOG Nigeria.

© Femi Osikoya
14 May 2014

Friday, May 9, 2014

The Many Flies of The Manor

The Many Flies of The Manor
I sit back and ponder the scene playing out on a national, nay global scale, all originating from our hitherto esteemed manor. That manor, that’s hewn deep within the rocky place.

Manors are reputed for their pristine, almost priestly, allure and this manor parades its fair share of attention. One thing is striking in this manor. It suffers an infestation, a huge plague, and an agglomeration of forces with less than noble intent. It suffers an invasion, a rash of flies, least expected in a fabrication that hosts the best of men.

This manor is home to all kinds of flies, all intent to leave their prints on the hapless concoctions and displays served to the equally hapless citizenry and global audience, in this much desecrated palace that now hosts a much taunted and derided, yet, as all agree, over-meek king. Food served on erstwhile golden plates that have for a season lost their allure and glitter. Plates, still to which the flies of the manor hang in desperation for sustenance. Meekness behoves a Prince undoubtedly, but a time comes when a dog must bear its fangs lest the cat takes over its roust.

Like I said before, this manor is home to many flies.

There is the Papa fly, also known as the Agama Fly because of the semblance it bears to that specie of lizards. Every once in a while, he falls from his high pedestal where he has been delicately placed by forces greater than he. Like a child who misses the lesson in travail, he nods his head in self-adulation fall after fall, after fall.

He is ostensibly the de-facto Lord of the Manor in this dispensation. Each Lord is allowed residency status in the manor at least for one season, but no more than two. Stories abound of time past when a one-time Lord sort by much manipulation to continue his residence for a third season. In the end, the rule of two seasons was finally evoked to truncate his dastardly vision.

But back to the Papa fly.

The Agama Fly is the repository of the power of all his people. He is the supreme overlord and commander. Yet, the way he carries on, he disdains to use even 10% of his powers, appearing to prefer being an object of pun, derision and ridicule. No doubt meek and possibly intent on leaving a mark in the history books but often coming across as weak, slow, shallow, unsure and lacking in confidence.

Then there is the ever-effluent Mama fly. To all intents, she is the first among her kind, and in many ways one of a kind. She makes sure that no one forgets she is the power behind the throne. Ever protective of her prize and the throne, she is quick to step to the arena to save the day even though at the end she leaves the ring much worse for it. No one is in doubt about her imperviousness to be many bricks that are hauled at are by the Spectator Flies even though everyone wonders what it will take to rein her in and put a leash on the now loose rider-less stallion.

We also have a battery of Penguin Flies of all hues. Always turning out well dressed for the party even if the outing always ends up looking contrived and clumsy. These are the army of details of different calling positioned around her majesty. They are expected to weave their webs unnoticed in normal climes but not so in this manor. Excesses of the stallion and prevailing realities force them to step out of the diplomatic shadows to not only protect the Mama fly, but also to protect their own sustenance and integrity. Every one in the land knows that integrity is now far from their heart. Isn’t it often said, when hunger enters the stomach, nothing else can quarter there. If hunger can be so potent, what will greed or short sightedness do?

In their zest, the Penguin Flies often allow the Mama Fly enter the line of fire and thus become an object of ridicule and, as some older generation Nigerian lawyer would put it, opprobrium. Many aver that this is through no fault of theirs but the share strong indomitableness of her majesty. Others argue, they should know better and no matter the tool they have to work with professional ethics demand they come out dazzling. Everyone agrees they are doing a poor job of this. Wasn’t it said, “who plays the piper dictates the tune?”

Then come the Monitor Flies. They exist to report the goings on in the manor and be an information bridge to the world. They are the masters of sensationalism. Always looking for an angle and because we live in times of little depth, they look for cheap, story angles rather than substance.

Finally, the hanger-on flies. They are a hybrid of many species and come in all shapes and forms. The Baboon Flies - known for their verboseness and used to dispel daunting forces. The Chameleon Flies – apologists for different causes and schemes, always dancing to different tunes no one else can hear. The Cat Flies – bootlickers per excellence always applauding every move of the master. The jobber flies, enough for every occasion. They are always around the manor looking for loot to cat away to create their personal fiefdoms and perpetuate the political and economic servitude of the land.

In this manor, the Lord is not really in-charge, he is as much a prisoner as the forces that surround him. A willing prisoner but a prisoner all the same. Isn't it funny how so little we have achieved in spite of all at our disposal?

Femi Osikoya
(c.) 8-9th May 2014

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

GEJ Bashing – The New Fun Sport

I like GEJ Bashing.

It's a fun sport. One that’s guaranteed to bring a short soothing relief to the harsh realities that now characterises life in our visionary-leader-challenged nation.

This fast-paced sport is full of moves and unbelievable, almost awe-inspiring vituperations, mostly by the high and mighty, in and around the corridors of power. It would appear to be a game designed to draw otherwise esteemed senior citizens out to a naked dance in the village square. The slight problem is that the field of play, our village square, has in recent years undergone some renovations to bring it to tune with modern times. So doing, our naked king's dance is no more the butt of the village jesters but of global pun and joust. The outcome is a catastrophe of monumental proportions, often expected but still derided. It is the stuff of which Ostriches
are made – head deep in sand, hiding away their shameful pate.

I like GEJ Bashing.

It's like a sport of pin the tail on the donkey.
It’s just that no amount of blindfolding the player saves the donkey from the painful outcome of feeling the pin pushed into its willing backsides. After all, a willing participant has no use for a court of appeal to adjudge the rights of fellow players to engage in the process of a duly organised game.

In this variant of pinning the tail on the donkey, a player may be blindfolded but the handicap is eliminated by vocal prompts from the donkey, guiding the player to its location. Much like a sitting duck. No matter what it does, the pin will always find its target. The game stays the same, yet brings so much unguarded fun and pun
to its adherents.

I like GEJ Bashing.

It is one sport that unifies most of an otherwise divided peoples. That is, apart from some of the hardcore direct beneficiaries and or interest-related hangers-on. The die-hard, hard-nosed, fire and brimstone-touting supporters, who see no evil, hear no evil and talk no evil.

Like most games, it's a game played by two sides. One side strives for the upper hand whilst the other tries to resist or seize the initiative. In real life, a lot rests on whether it's a home or away game. However, in this game, it's almost always an away game played on hostile terrain and in front of a hostile home crowd. The game is lost before it even commences but the war rages on long after. The hapless, forlorn participants in the village meeting have their say, relieve some stress and the game subsides, like the waves of an ocean coming to shore till another match be called.

I like GEJ Bashing.

It's a sport that needs no qualification to play. You may not have the answers but at least you know when a boo-boo has been committed. Then you shout to the highest heavens and the world joins the now almost sonorous chorus.

I like GEJ bashing.

Though played in the village square, you no longer have to make the trip to the village square to take part in it. You can sit in the confines of your home or any confines you confine yourself in, and cast your puns without giving further thought or care to what happens next or without seeking a lasting solution to the national malaise, presenting our people with the position that the devil they know is always a better option. After all, most players in our national game seem to wear the same jersey colours, regardless of affiliation, language or tribe.

GEJ bashing may be trending but seriously, we need to dig deeper and get serious.

Isn't it funny how much time we commit to the mundane without a willingness to contribute to meaningful quests?

Thursday, June 30, 2011


What were you created for.
Some were created for glory
Others for damnation.
Some were created for good
Others for evil.
Some were created to do the works of the master
Others to lust after their own ends.
Some pursue knowledge and wisdom
Others glory in ignorance.
Some were given a heart of boldness
Others given to fear.
Some were born to sell their people into slavery
Others to redeem the land from oppression and repression.
Some were given to loot
Others to build.
Some were given to greed
Others to sharing.
What are you here for?
The world awaits your manifestation.
For good or for evil
No middle ground.

Femi Osikoya (c) June 30, 2011

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

The Lurking

Behold they lurk
The inattentive, less-connected to suck
For in-fractious concoctions and un-concoctions
Away from the steel caged wheels to pry
Rolling round the choke-filled city ways
For state and country they feign
Suffering those they swore to protect
Deviously concocting new rules on-the-go
Forcefully ferreting the others gold
Heartless, cold, unafraid of the divine
Lost souls atop the nations pot.

Saturday, March 6, 2010

This Solemn Resolution

Let it be known
our democratic logjam we resolved
After 79 days of tempestuous drift
We, the people’s people
Having weighed all
The doctrine of necessity Need for peace, security and good governance
In the interest of our nation
And full guidance of our “bosses” past
Signed declaration not minding
To maintain the sanctity of our laws
Without stifling the spirit and intent
Or attending the legality thereof
Not minding obvious mischief and misinformation
Both distortion and ignorance spawn
Our voyage will steadfast drift
Out of this extraordinary time
Having all our resolve and tenacity tried
To a place we long,
our solemn unspoken resolution
That whereas goodness and mercy our follower was
From today hence, Goodluck and Patience shall both replace
So help us God.

Femi Osikoya 11 Feb. 2010