NO GOOD RELIGION (EXCERPT)

 “There is no ‘good’ religion. Religion is not some sort of auto-pilot software, which, once installed, equips the host-individual with ‘goodness’. On the contrary. Religion is a corpse’s shell—deriving life only from those who practice and promote it.

And for as long as human existence is flawed by the trademark duality of good and evil, no religion can ever truly be good, as it would always exist within the context of the motivations held by those who propagate them.”

- Aanuoluwapo John Adesina (2020)

FOR AYE

The thoughts and imaginations of sprightly children are carved into the face of the beach. And though the sea might wash them away—these compositions—forever remain in the consciousness of every sand grain.

Aanuoluwapo John Adesina (2020)

GO OVER BY THE LAKE

Go over by the lake you fowl beast!
Fetch me my soul that you have drowned beneath the water lilies.
Take out your talons that you have dug into my calf,
And let my blood seep into the earth, that I may rise again.

Save me from this pain that pummels my heart
And deliver me into the merciful embrace of Lucifero.
Take me to my final resting place,

That great big hole where you bury your adversaries and friends alike.

Drown the mucus that has collected in my ears,
That I may hear the sweet voice of my mother once more.
Tell her I shall miss her sorely,
But her son has gone home.

Aanuoluwapo John Adesina - 2020

ODIRAH ỊHỤNANYA M

“My friends and enemies call me candy”
stamped the beginning of our correspondence.
Your sweet voice had the consistency of brandy,
soothing my disfigured heart and curing my despondence.

My world was illuminated by your gracious arrival—
but this light warred against the tempest within.
Like a tumbleweed, you staggered into a long-standing trial
but toward a more forgiving course must I now allow you spin.

I have eaten the berries of your love’s winsome shrub
and partaken of the drink sourced from the stream of nonchalance.
Now, what is left of your love is but a decaying stub,
created from my inhospitable response.

My world is now unlighted as it was before—
waiting for another damsel to be washed ashore.

Aanuoluwapo John Adesina - 2020

A NATIONALIST’S LAY

The undying love for kin and country,
occupies my thinning veins.
There is little sign of milk and honey,
but storms precede all fruitful gains.

I observe the flag billowing slowly—
moved not by the loveless winds.
On those wretched nights when we feel lowly,
your grace enriches our minds.

Am I an extremist or chauvinist?
Nurturing a broken dream.
Am I a victim of politics mist?
A tool in an epic scheme. 

But whatever service I must render to motherland,
I shall save her from becoming a depraved wasteland. 

Aanuoluwapo John Adesina - 2019

FRUGAL CONSUMERISM

by Aanuoluwapo John Adesina


My apathetic disposition towards religion had been long-established before this day. Whilst in the thick of a jamboree of miseries, I had embarked upon a book-keeping exercise of what one might call the organized chaos that was my life. The long hiatus I had taken from caring about anything had metamorphosed into an irreversible numbness. Though unplanned, I did well to relish the condition. 

Though born Christian, and baptized in the Catholic church, I was at this time a world away from my so-called saintly beginnings. It can be argued that at some point, it is a necessary effort to free one’s mind of doctrines, in order to view the world in its true form. My decision to do this was deemed rebellious, as well as a go-to sign that I had become involved with 'bad company'. Why is it laudable for a woman to shed her father's name, but a travesty to shed beliefs she does not subscribe to? Why is the truant boy expected to 'grow up', yet this growth does not extend to his mental hunger for self-liberation, from those ideals that have been forced upon him? What do I know? My unwillingness to declare my mind upon a market stall, for the benefit of pious hagglers has set me on the road to perdition. Or so I have been told. 

It was something I noticed since I moved. I had become 'anti-people', owing to my amusement of the gullibility, wickedness, and inadequacies of the Homo sapiens. In all honesty, that was the only reason I sometimes went to church. I had grown extremely cynical and would embark on excursions there just to observe the people who devoted an hour of their lives to that pseudo-solemn state. Only to float out of the pews and into the world, to continue being the contemptible people they truly were. I’ve always found that the demon-casting sessions make for excellent theatre.

But once again, what do I know? Surely, one cannot hold a cynic in high esteem, not like you would a zealot, who merely carries out his/her religio-military duties to their invisible Commander-in-the-sky. Or the ever-faithful servant, who makes it her place to slay the tainted, degrade those deemed inferior, and to bare the breasts of the ‘harlot,’ who is open with affairs that the holier-than-thou woman conducts in secret. All—allegedly—on behalf of her Heavenly Father.

She ridicules her fellow 'sister-in-the-lord,’ who has a daffodil blooming inside her belly. Worse still, outside of wedlock. O ignominy of ignominies! An indignity so great, it is enough to kill God himself. This 'fallen sister' becomes her canvass, upon which she plasters her self-righteous colorant. I stare at her, as she judges and executes her fellow woman. Of course, she does this in her capacity as God's high priestess on earth. Interestingly enough, this lamb who exudes virtue and purity, happens to be a head chorister. Unbeknownst to her, in the caliginous area by the pulpit, I watched as the semen of 'Brothers XYZ' snaked down her legs, as she devotedly seesawed her tambourine during praise and worship. 

Oh, how I long to bow in reverence to the poster children of altruism, who fight tirelessly without respect for coin nor gold. But then again, they fight this never-ending fight, purify the earth and its inhabitants, feed the hungry and shelter the homeless, so that they may gain entry to that palazzo, adorned with miles of gold flooring.

The frugal consumerists, who fight for our collective salvation. Bless their compassionate hearts.

INAMORATA

O fair maiden, 

gifted with Medusa-like powers;

solidifying my broken heart with elegant stone.

She who is the water that can quell my fire.

I shall navigate high seas to the port of Aden,

to fetch you the rarest flowers.

For my emotions have been ignited by your Firestone,

sustaining me till I lay in your bosom, wherein I shall retire.

Though by many you have been forsaken,

and by your side, I may mirror a tower.

In my heart, you own the grandest throne,

with every beat echoing sweet keys from Cupid’s lyre. 

I long to peer into your carbonado eyes,

that I may traverse the depths of your soul with your esoteric atlas.

Aanuoluwapo John Adesina - 2019

NESCIENT MAN

I have continually longed for love,

as shadows long for the moon’s gaze.

But now I am faced with a new problem;

I do not know what love looks like.

I do not see it in my father’s eyes when he beholds his wife.

I do not see it in the Vicar’s eyes when he tramples his flock to board his jet.

I do not see it in the congressman’s eyes when he abandons his people’s plight for silver.

I do not see it in the lover’s eyes when he kills a rose to give life to his lust. 

I do not see it in my own eyes when I gaze at the image residing in the looking glass.

Aanuoluwapo John Adesina - 2019

ALAGBADA ANIMALIA

Shall we observe these predacious creatures?

Let us seek refuge behind the wall of bones and infant skulls

erected as evidence of their sadistic praxis.

As they lead us on this measureless axis. 

Alas! A host of graduates laid waste to by the mercenaries of their fathers,

laying idly on the sterile grounds of their dreams, about five miles yonder.

Their leaders stand above them, spreading their wing-like raiments,

beautifully stitched with the threads of ambitions they squander. 

Now, their podiums stand in the spotlight; barren.

As their hollow minds, housing neither inspiration nor wisdom.

They pay handsomely for the services of Charon,

that he may steer us towards Lucifer’s kingdom. 

These godless beings prepare to spread their wings once more,

to enshroud our minds, that we may continue to slumber and snore. 

Aanuoluwapo John Adesina - 2019

NIGHTFALL

I knew not that the thought of being with me

could revolt a maiden to shackle her lips.

Nor could I imagine that this idea

would prove a stomach-churning conception.

Her fingers meandered furiously 

over the glass wall that sat in her palm,

as she faded under the cloak of darkness

and my heart withdrew into its brittle shell. 

I retreat under the rock from whence I came,

never to bare my tongue to the thirsting rays.

Aanuoluwapo John Adesina - 2018

CYNTHIA

My heart melted on sighting her caramel skin,

and her beautiful eyes had me spellbound.

O Lord if staring were ever a sin;

I would be king of all criminals, and my head would be crowned. 

I long to hold her hands in mine,

that I may dance to the rhythm of her pulse.

Her voice intoxicated me as would wine,

securing my hands in Cupid’s cuffs.

No seas nor valleys are ever so vast,

that I would not cross to see her face.

Her smile radiates longer than the sun could last;

holding my attention with such painless grace.

Set your hands upon my chest Doctor Cynthia,

and heal me of this menacing arrhythmia.

Aanuoluwapo John Adesina - 2018

SHE SET UPON MY PALM...

She set upon my palm a bunch of twigs;

expecting I provide her a forest.

 

She set upon my palm a droplet of water;

demanding I provide her the ocean.

 

She set upon my palm a ball of cotton;

that I may weave for her the finest apparel.

 

She set upon my palm a grain of sand;

that I may provide for her a mighty island.

 

She set upon my palm the flint’s spark;

demanding I make her a fire.

 

She set upon my palm a knife;

that I may draw blood for her to bathe.

 

I slowly fall to my knees;

that I may go about fulfilling her desires.

 

I set her grain of sand upon the barren earth;

creating the island which she deserves.

 

I set her twigs upon the grain of sand;

that I may build her a house which she deserves.

 

I set her ball of cotton upon the twigs;

creating a beautiful roof which she deserves.

 

I stick her knife deep into the surrounding earth;

that I may create a stately pool which she deserves.

 

I set her knife upon my wrist;

that I may fill her pool with my blood which she deserves.

 

She casts me out from her presence;

that she may enjoy her wealth which she deserves.

 

I set the flints spark to her cloudy roof,

that it may illuminate the world which she deserves.

 

I set upon the growing flame her droplet of water;

that it may provide her succour which she deserves.

 

I stare as all her provisions are consumed;

setting a bed of ash which she deserves.

 

Delivering all which she deserves-

nothing.

 

Adesina Aanuoluwapo John - 2018 

 

 

LADY IN THE GLASS BAR

I peer forgetfully into your eyes,

and marvel at your smooth chocolate skin.

When the torch of my happiness dies,

your beauty revives it my heavenly queen.

O lord above hear my confession,

for my heart lusts after her sultry lips.

My body cries of a cavernous obsession,

at the sight of her tempting hips.

Aanuoluwapo John Adesina - 2018

FREEDOM VS LIBERTY

Freedom limits man to the boundaries set for him.

Liberty limits man to whatever boundaries he sets for himself.

Adesina Aanuoluwapo John - 2018

ADDER

The slippery veil concealed your face,

as darkness shrouds the splendour of the sun.

The contours of your curves, my eyes delightfully trace;

for in my heart the logs of desire slowly burn.

Like the serpent you slither into my body;

and your venom takes charge of my flesh. 

Cupid intoxicates me with his wine, leaving my fangs bloody,

condemning me to a hallucinatory mesh. 

I see the storm gathering in your eyes,

yet your smile disperses the downpour.

When you stare at me do you recount the lies?

Or do they hurt you like an open sore?

I dream of holding your tender hand,

yet I fear it would slip through mine like sand. 

Aanuoluwapo John Adesina - 2018

LEGACY

“The beginning begins only to end the end.”

Adesina Aanuoluwapo John -2018

WHY DO YOU CALL ON ME?

Why do you call on me?

Do the embers of love pester thee?

Drawing you as the moth to a flame. 

Do the hands of guilt clutch tightly to your soul?

Rendering you paralysed as the leaves to the winds might.

Do the needs of your mind hold thy heart to ransom?

As the heedless calf to the hunters trap.

Do the hymns of Lucifer direct you to me?

That you may bind my arms with thongs of anguish.

Do the gleaming lights of my life blind you?

That you set open your reservoir of hatred upon me.

Do the soothing tunes of my voice deafen you?

That you station the torch of pain to my tongue.

I call on thee for thy lover hath taken Ill,

and she breathes her last breath as we speak.

Adesina Aanuoluwapo John - 2018

OLUWATISE

When the year opened its arms to us,

faces wore smiles with good cause.

A robe of gladness we now adorn,

for a beautiful babe has just been born.

And she was called Oluwatise,

for God had elegantly crafted her like clay.

Undying love and support; we offer as our frankincense and myrrh,

a million gifts abound, whichever of which she may prefer. 

Adesina Aanuoluwapo John - 2018

INHIBITION

That I may ignite her member,

till it aches for the patriotic mast.

For she was not the ripest fruit in Eden,

but my flesh shall plough her fertile fields.

And she would yell out to the gods,

In a deep heated ecstasy.

Adesina Aanuoluwapo John - 2018

WHY IS IT SO HARD?

Why is it so hard?

Why does love evade me so?

Why do their eyes rise but fail to set upon my face?

Why do I exist to not exist?

My heart hangs beaten and scarred,

and my eyes have lost their once salient glow.

I am lost in this ever lonely place,

but soon my hands shall keep their sinful tryst. 

My chambers remain icy cold,

for here sadness forbids the sun’s rays to show. 

Through the forest of memories I subconsciously trace,

yet all I see are faces shrouded in mist. 

I often long for the warmth of another,

but sometimes trying could be a bother.

Adesina Aanuoluwapo John - 2017