The gong has sounded,
the town crier’s feet departs,
our land is warned of the perilous years ahead,
yet the people abuse the messenger,
and neglect the message of truths and freedom.
As usual, the gong is despised,
with “I don’t care attitude”,
the town crier is Judged,
mocked for his looks and spirituality,
harassed for his means of delivering  the message.
The town crier is a Prophet,
his gong was music and writing, yes,
weapons of warning and struggle,
his crew, made of determination and truth,
yet his “openness” killed him; death of conspiracy.
The town crier’s prophecies are now in action,
his words now bite us into reality, now we cry,
our souls long to have the town crier again;
but his was just to warn and not to be our deliverer,
his gong is left with us, for us to hear and act.
Stand up people, pick up his gong,
music is a weapon,
writing is a weapon,
you, the victim is also a weapon of struggle and freedom,
dare to stand, ask, stay, fight and be free.


Short Poems




Benson, Jerry and other comrades,

thread that path;

that which took you to the streets.


Hold unto the voice of unity,

which walks behind you all.


Speak with a voice,

cleansed of bribery.

Stand on the rock of the martyr.


Even those fallen comrades,

continue the struggle with us.                            


For their sake, do not relent.

Take along their agonized death to the battle front,

Hold with you the brutality that whisked them to early grave.


Hold on tight to the yelling…

Remember Mustapha who was killed.


Remember the young Adeola from Ogba

that was murdered.

Carry with you Musa, whose intestine was spilled in Kano…

When you get to the Promised Land,

take their bones of memory with you.


(The Picture above serves as an additional inspiration for this poem that was first written during the OCCUPY NIGERIA struggle, in 2012 by ENOCH OJOTISA).

#Chronical Prayers Vol 2.

I thank you God,
thank you for gift of life,
clean water,
healthy food, clothing and shelter,
for good health,
for basic socio-economic benefits,
thank you for being alive in these last days,
these days when human societies are confused,
times when governments are more concerned
about treasury looting than lives of citizens,
these days,
choosing the path of education,
is regrettable most times,
and thuggery is lucrative,
so much that it is now a generational pride,
these days when hospitals now function
more as viewing centers for death,
these days when our young daughters are abused, and our brothers become moles for the rich ones,
now when religion is confused for spirituality,
and honest men are confused for crazy ones,
these days when the air is polluted,
human minds are darkened by love of money,
rituals everywhere, financial scams here and there, droughts and famines in the world,
God, I thank you for blessing me with good life.





With tears you crowned his soul,

Till thou covered his path less he withdraw,

So you poured him and made him flows,

Just to mix until it is a fountain,

Yes! Thirst is quenched and the famished revived


With no hesitation you let him go,

But here you are securing his freedom,

Less he is free indeed,

Up in the sky he mingled till he soared high in Eagle’s lineage


Multitude gathers than he dreamt of,

With a finite clothe from the Majesty call,

So you marched in align to the siren,

But with fragrance of soberness, they gathered to look,

The beholders flooding the path

How shall you let go of him, while you let live his clone?

Though he’s soared, without stopping he eats the grasses,

Oh! How sweet it tastes so he said

Run in deer’s feet and grip with Eagle’s claw

Its venom flows though it’s marred

For while gone, forever lives,

Babatunde! The recompense of memory


Written by ADEJARE SEYI.

for you my daughter



First you will be called foetus,

by the time you begin to kick,

Oh! when you will tickle your mother’s womb,

and cause me a little panic in the dead of the night,

when you will cause your mother heavy breath,

and cause me daily frights for 8months and 30days,

when I shall become a regular saint in prayer,

and master of holy communion for your safe arrival,

when I shall become a cook, a driver and a slave for your sake,

when I shall learn to wipe your dirt with pride,

and happily stay awake to sing you lullaby,

Oh! even when I shall carry you in my arms with joy,

and wait for the day you shall speak my name,

Hmmm! when I shall speak of you as my comfort,

look, you are my daughter,

when you come, as you arrive in a comfortable pain,

I shall name you, EFUNSETAN, daughter of SEGILOLA.

from an african child

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Is this the African community my father told me he lived?
In here now, life looks empty,
our hope has come to look vague.
And the temple of our ancestors is famished of its sacrifice.
Now the gods have grown hungry,
and no one looks after the throne of our morality.
The African tradition to our children is opaque,
but the abomination is transparent in our minds.
Who will bring back the lost glory of the Egyptian sunrise?
Will the romantic sunset of Kenya be returned with moonlight tales?
Or shall the empires of powerful Kings be heard of and read in our schools?
Even the savior on the cross, and the prophet on the mat,
have both been neglected by immoral civilization.
Africa! Rise! Kwame Nkrumah!
Will your sweat be in vain?
My mother tells me of a fighter for Africa…
But she says he’s long gone back to where real Africans go…
And by the music of the BLACK PRESIDENT have I thought this all!
FELA I am an African child. Chant me the African songs from above.



Relationship Goals Series by Fawehinmi Bibire



A lot being going through my head then I checked what else I haven’t talked about, then I decided to talk on upkeep and appearance as a key to starting good relationship. Thou this might be a very broad topic to discuss but I will try to make it as short as possible.

A friend once said, “I walked into a company and the first comment I got was; I love your outfit, you look beautiful. And when she got to the interview panel, that same lad who gave the comment was one of the panellist and of course, we all know looks and appearance matters during an interview no matter the field, be it entertainment, finance, oil and gas etc.

A friend got talking and connected with a reputable member of the House of Representative of Nigeria on her flight back to Nigeria from South Africa due to her looks and appearance.

Some would say, it works and it’s much easier for girls than boys, here is a male friend that got connected and talking to one of the Reputable business mogul through his dressing, looks and communication skills.

Trust me, if you can imbibe the few points that I would discuss below, you will be happy you did.

1) You don’t have to own all the wardrobe before you look good.

Many of us make that mistake of looking forward to when we open an enormous wardrobe full of different attire before we look good. People would tell you, I don’t have clothes, so I am not interested in going out. So all you trying to say is that you only have leaves or what? as clothes. Even while some people own the whole cloth on their wardrobe, they will still be complaining about lack of cloth and why they can’t dress well. Is that enough reason for u not to dress well with the little you have? Trust me, one thing we have to understand is how to bring and combine the few you have together and come out looking good. Embrace the habit of surfing through the net, check fashion site on how to combine the little you have if you not that of fashionista. Ask people how gorgeous you look, be correctable and be confident.

2) Be neat, Be clean.

Imagine a young lady with a large wardrobe and variety of cloth yet you keep wondering why that individual dress the way they do. Some lad and ladies are just so dirty and unkempt that if you visit their wardrobe, to distinguish the dirty cloths and the clean ones is the most difficult thing to do. Once they return from an outing, same place they hanged the washed and neat cloth is where they hang the sweaty and dirty one. If washing is so difficult, please do well to employ the service of laundry service. Even with an old cloth, you can look presentable and warm, so you have don’t have to go on cloth shopping every summer for you to look good? No, even with that, if you have the wrong mind-set about appearance, you will still look scruffy in the new cloths. You can’t be looking shabby and dirty and expect a warm communication or greetings from people.

3). Let it become a habit.

Some of our young people now have the mentality or can I can habit of looking good just when they are going for an interview, business trip, hangout or meeting. The People in the above mentioned places, can’t you meet them elsewhere asides the formal setting, so a bank manager can’t be in a bus, a panellist can’t trek or you can’t accidentally be in a gathering of the right people.

When going to class as a student, you have to be tidy, kempt and clean that even your course mates can distinguish your personality. As a worker in bank, let your customers look at you and tell you, * you look good*, your tie doesn’t have to be sideways because you were rushing out or work rush. You see a lecturer on a Monday morning with some kind of outfit that you can’t give a name to because you are confused as to whether he/she is wearing a corporate English outfit or our traditional outfit. Just because you are a mechanic or driver doesn’t mean you look dishevelled when you aren’t on your work site please.

Let being neat, looking good and presentable be your habit and reasons for dressing. Wash, iron and arrange your clothes in a tidy way, let it become a habit, look good, smell good to enhance the good personality you portray or have.

4). Please don’t deceive yourself. 

Little can I do in writing all things here, I tell people, mind-set is all. I can’t enter and clean your mind, I only pray the words I preach would cleanse and change your mind-set. You can’t keep deceiving yourself thinking you are deceiving people. We have some categories of people that their outward appearance is just what you will fall in love with, just pull up their shirt or blouse, gosh!!! You will be disgusted by the colour of their singlet or lingerie. Let’s leave that aside and come to where they live………. trust me, that’s another article to be discussed. Bags, shoes all in same corner, dishes lying fallow in the zinc for days, dirty cloth and washed ones all together……. please, let’s just forget that cause it’s something we can’t finish talking about.

4). Learn to plan ahead.

Some people just have the habit of rushing things in their lives…like rushing to iron shirts to for work, interviews, meetings, etc. 30 minutes to when they will set out common among our men and ladies on the other hand, just wearing the un-ironed cloth like that especially chiffon tops. why can’t we all have the habit of planning ahead, like ironing shirts for the whole week or more, clean socks, tie, lingerie etc.

Those that are allowed not to plan ahead are the set of people who know they won’t be doing anything for the whole day asides lazing around, it’s allowed of them not to plan ahead.

In conclusion my dear Readers, even in worshipping God, we have to be Holy, clean and pure. With our looks and appearance, we either make of mar our personality and chances of meeting the right people. Remember to always look good, smell good.


BY: Fawehinmi Bibire



Fawehinmi Bibire

It is a fraternal bond



Even though cries from the ocean is still young, and Commoner’s Speech is still climbing the ladder of international acceptance, both of them have one thing in common; and it’s the fact that, they are both collections of poems. Commoner’s Speech was written during my days at the Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, when I had a practical first-hand experience of students’ movement from a Pan-African socialist perspective. I remember my first political tutor, under whom I acquired my unflinching Pan-African ideas from, Onyinye Gandhi. I saw him at a political rally, where he gave a short but ever clinching words about why students should never sell the students’ movement out to the State. After his speech, he came down from the podium, handed me a short note which read, “Hello comrade, please meet me tomorrow night at FAJ Block 5 Room 305 at 08:00 pm sharp, Gandhi”. I laughed hard at myself, “me, Oracle, comrade ke?” I felt too highly revered to have been addressed as a comrade; and the reason for this was not farfetched. In those days, to be addressed as a comrade meant that, one was intellectually sound, physically down for intellectual debate any day, anytime; and that one was not treacherous to his own beliefs and ideas, especially to the Awovarsity Union. But honestly speaking, that I doubt still exists. From FAJ Block 5 Room 305, I became a new human, with an added machinery to choose my path of life. Perhaps like another close comrade recently remarked on my page, I am known to thread the soft path of life. How will I not thread the soft path of life, when I am from the lineage of those who know life from its core? Few months after, the proscription on the Awovarsity Union was lifted by the school management, and the little perspective I had nurtured for few months had germinated into confidence, as such I contested for the Secretary General of the Students’ Union at Angola Hall. But I lost with a vote. Bisi BEST, that was the name of the winner, a student of Pharmacy, who also had his ideological inclination from the “Stalinist” group — PACE. I still remember that cloud of thick bitterness over the face of Comrade Gandhi. He was shocked that PROGRESSIVE STUDENTS AGENDA (PSA) had lost to PACE. He was surprised that his thoroughly trained intellectual prodigy had lost to another. He felt we lost due to manipulation of certain circumstances. But I retraced my steps, and instantly got it right. Ha! Ha! Ha! I forgot to heed to one “Pan-African” warning from an aged mystery man. Even though till date, I believed Bisi BEST won, because one who later became an inseparable part of my revolutionary journey, had shared some ideas on how to manage his campaign.

I first thought of Commoner’s Speech few days after my matriculation on March 18th 2008 (yet I was admitted in 2007…one of the academic struggles of Great Ife). But there was no elixir that would propel my thoughts yet on how to write each topics I had carefully set aside for Commoner’s Speech. But there was one person, whose physical appearance always ignited a hidden smile in my mind, and that was Adediran Adeyemi Adetola. We met first on February 23rd 2008 within Angola Hall. I saw him with a friend I can no longer recollect his name at the moment. They each held a novel, perhaps not a political one. He was wearing one stripped multi-coloured polo, with one black jean and a rugged “All-Star” sneakers. He greeted me warmly. His friend barely answered me, I think it was because I was wearing one “Adire” material with an inherited gospel wrecked brown sandals. Yet he tapped my shoulder and we discussed briefly. He told me his room number and I told him mine was Block D1, Bed 4, Angola Hall. I think he stayed in K11 or something like that. I checked him more than 4 times but I always met his absence. I was eager to share my political ambition with him, but another comrade, not my mate in age and field work; Comrade Weber quickly warned me he felt Adediran Adeyemi belonged to the Stalinist PACE. So, I withdrew a bit from pursuing his trust. Yet, I couldn’t get his confidence off my mind. So that was how I ended up writing “Reasons for Pen”, the first poem in Commoner’s Speech. I met him again sometime around March 23rd, few days after the matriculation. It was for a different purpose which led to a little misunderstanding and which we later settled when the great mind, Onyinye Gandhi brought us together after the emergence of Comrade Deviano as the Awovarsity Union president. I practically lived my remaining days of first year in Comrade Gandhi’s room, FAJ Block 5 Room 305. He was feeding me with the little food he could lay his hands on, and  he never stopped feeding my mind with materials and intellectual discussions. Oh! Less I forget, my perspectives on “Aluta-E” (love) had a lot to do with his as well.

By this time, Adediran Adeyemi Adetola would come to the room, whop my ass on the PlayStation with his Chelsea formation, even though I tried many times, he ended up scoring me “just one or two goals”. I looked at his lifestyle, Adediran, I looked at his high hopes, and found a common ground with mine. Our eagles soared higher before we even moved to the second year. We became popular, while some referred to us as political twins, most reactionaries simply labelled us “mistakes of Law”. After the first year result came out, the wrong appellations simply disappeared. We proved them wrong academically. This was how I wrote the third poem, “The Orchard”.

Truth is, each and every poem in Commoner’s Speech was one or two events which I witnessed alongside my Comrade, Adediran Adeyemi Adetola (Africano). It was never easy. He loved the theatre as well, but unfortunately, his political love life emotionally abused his love to watch plays at the Pit-theatre. Towards the end of our fourth academic year, as a child of spiritual roots, my consultation prevented me from participating in the last political activity year of my stay on campus. I began to see life not just from the political point of view, but also from a spiritual cum cultural perspective. Oh! Unfortunately, Comrade Onyinye Gandhi and Comrade Destiny had graduated. So, my spiritual and cultural perspective, which I had now mastered and successfully found footing for in my Pan-African ideology, was developed by myself without any western influence. But surprisingly, I made a call to Gandhi thereafter, and few days after our discussion, he mailed me some materials from likes of Kwame Nkrumah, Julius Nyerere, Amilcar Cabral and others. This was how materials For Cries from the ocean too was gathered. For your information, I never missed any convocation plays. I was perhaps even more recognised in the department of theatre arts than Faculty of Law. If not for my last academic year where I attended classes regularly, and for my distinctive looking Afro, some of my lecturers would never have known me. In my last days at Ife, I had several long discussions with Adediran Adeyemi. I found out that his Welfarist-African perspectives too had metamorphosed from just a political movement to a culturally inclusive pattern as well. Gradually, in my heart, I knew my second anthology was already set for writing. I completed some of it while in Nigerian Law School, Enugu. Most of my mates were busy running around reading either Corporate Law or something similar to our looming fate of call to bar. I never slept inside the room I was allocated, except for days it rained heavily. I always slept outside in my shorts, with my old Nokia N98 phone that had nothing else but FELA KUTI’s songs. I knew I would not fail the exam. You said why? I had made necessary inquiries, and was only told to do what was necessary of me (always try to prove yourself right).

The last poem in Cries from the ocean, “The Jailer’s Lamentation” was inspired by the event that happened in 2011, when Adediran Adeyemi Adetola was wrongfully suspended by the School management for a course he stood rightly for. I remembered I was the one who picked up the suspension letter from the Faculty secretary, in Law. I remembered that sad day both of us were walking down the stairways of the Faculty of Law, when a lecturer suddenly appeared, he was known for always saying he held everyone’s destiny in his hands and that he could choose to release it or destroy it. He spoke, just like a reactionary that he has always been. Adediran Adeyemi held my left hand with his right hand afterwards and quietly said, “I will scale through”; for the first time he called me by real name in four and a half years, he said, “Enoch, they think we will not be successful, they think they can break me by this suspension; they do not realise that we are physically and spiritually supported by God…” then he said, “I think what he said is just a Jailer’s Lamentation”. I thank God for a good memory, but I thank GOD more for how well I have lived and how far he has taken my comrade, Adediran Adeyemi. I wish to thank you for reading this work. (