BLAST FROM THE PAST

NOT PLAGIARISM: I CULLED THIS FROM www.beibee.
 

“I have seen your book,” Fadugba my course-mate enthused.



“Really? Where did you find it? You know Severin and Tankard is very expensive”, I said referring to a popular textbook.



Fadugba looked at me as if I deserved a hard knock on my big head. “Don’t give me that crap. You know what I meant,” he began again. “Everyone’s talking about it; that book: Genesis – An Anthology of Poems. It’s a nice, man. Keep it up!”



“Thanks. But the book isn’t mine!” I said, pretending to be serious.



He looked at me again - this time looking very furious. My mischief! He opened his mouth but changed his mind. He pointed one of his fingers at me, nodding his head for several seconds. He paused; opened his mouth again and said: “Now I know you have a mental block. If the book isn’t yours, then whose?”



I smiled at him sheepishly. As I opened my mouth to answer him I got a heavy smack on my back. Who could that be?



“Hi! What’s up guys?” the young man who smacked announced from behind, as I struggled to keep my balance. His name is Bola

“Junior,” he said; that is my nickname on campus. “I didn’t know you fellas could write verse. Men, Genesis is it! So you bloody campus journalists do think about such things as poetry? I thought your lives were all about snooping and criticizing others.”



Not saying a word, I just stared at him with a blank face. Fadugba looked happy. “Guys I am out of here!” He announced and left me and Bola.



“Bola is that a compliment or a chastisement?” I said now focusing my attention and energy on Bola. I asked trying to feign a frown.



“Hey bull-dog, don’t go biting yet!” was Bola’s response. “Huh? It’s been long I saw your Gutenberg movable-type handwriting. What’s up for this week: Val, SUG election, admission racketeering, accommodation palaver, cult violence, shortage of teaching personnel, or what?”



I sighed and asked him, “What’s wrong with Val’s day and SUG election, Bola?” He looked at me in disbelief and blurted out: “May one thousand and one fleas from a hundred and one camels invade your left eye and right fingers. So you can’t see? Even the blind can see what’s wrong on this campus!”



“Really? Tell me something.”



“OK. Let tell you: why should SUG election be fixed on Val’s Day?”



“I see, lover boy!”



“Shut up a minute…lemme finish!” He said sounding exasperated. “Yes sir,” was my response.



“As I was saying, the election shouldn’t have been fixed on that day.” “Why?” I asked.



“Simple. Many of us will be hanging out with every Funke, Rolake and Tinuke that day. As a result, the election may witness a very low turn-out of voters. Can you see?” Bola explained.



“Too bad. But I don’t see anything worth writing about that,” I said matter-of-factly.



“What about accommodation? I imagine how unfeeling like a chunk of fat the school authority is toward the welfare of students. How many years will it them to complete the hostel’s renovation. Apete is on the brink of population explosion; landlords and landladies are now charging students what is out of the moon. Students are coming to school on day to day basis from ends like Oremeji, Moniya, perhaps from Lagos too!”



I told him he was correct and added “Yet, I don’t feel like writing about stuffs you just mentioned. Sorry!”



“Has your cranium cracked?” he asked scornfully. I nodded in the negative. “What about admission racketeering? Aren’t you going to write something on that?” he asked sounding more frustrated as I remained unyielding. “I refuse to let you be Junior!”



“Go on,” I told him. Perhaps, I thought within me, I could make something out of this encounter. My eyes shone with mischief.



“Hey! The way am looking at you, it’s like you’re already having some idea. Don’t quote me in all that I’ve said. Ok? Bola said, suddenly realizing he had been quite garrulous.

“You see, Junior, in some departments, there are three to four lecturers who are yet to step into lecture-rooms, not to talk of lecturing. Yet, they keep telling us that at the tail-end of March exams will take place. What’s really going on here?”



Teasing him, I said: “All’s happening for your own good. The Polytechnic Ibadan is doing its best to get you the best lecturers to fill the existing vacuums. Don’t mind those talking about this school looking for cheap labour; part-time whatever or what did they call it?” Looking more serious than I had expected he said: “Junior, as you always say: this is a place where a sane man needs to doubt his sanity. Everyone’s going gaga!” I looked at him, patted him on his shoulder and said: “Therefore, Bola, I insist you visit Aro! I insist.” [For the reader’s information: Aro refers to a popular psychiatric hospital in Abeokuta, Ogun State – Nigeria]



Guess what is response was? “You must be mad Junior! You must be very mad, for saying that…I see you’re a real mad guy!” Oh-oh! I gave him my magical mischievous smile and said gently, “You need full psychiatric attention. Your utterance is the trademark of a mad man on his way to the market; Bola, you’re about to get out of your mind…ok, come on! I was only pulling your legs.”



Bola would not give up easily. I knew him to be that way. And I being who I am would not leave the matter. He continued: “What about the recent shootings and killing of a young man?”



“Ah that one? Education a la violence I call it. But, ‘kowe’ look before you leap!”



“I learnt it was all about cult groups’ shooting war. But who really are shooting who and why? When will these asinine souls stop their senseless violence? Why don’t you, Junior, an intrepid journalist speak to these ‘big boys’ through your pen? Why does it seem everyone’s looking on?”



At this point, Bola’s argument was really shaping my emotion. He continued: “I wonder how far the OPC men and other vigilance groups can go to stem this violence. Anyway, they gave a measure of sense of security in the last few days. One day, all this senseless violence will stop.”



“Guess what I’ll write about?” I asked Bola. “What?” he asked back.



“Skull and Crossed Bones”.



“See you when you get there!” Bola replied, shook my hands and walked briskly away.



Did I say something wrong?


CULLED FROM: www.beibee.

they are wonderful poets. in this genre it is very hard to say who is the best.

I LOVE OKIGBO'S POETIC PAINTINGS.
BUT COULD HE BE THE BEST IN AFRICA?
I THINK SO NOT. www.beibee.

FORGIVE MY OBSESSION WITH THAT BLOG!

STILL I RISE. GREAT AND SOUL-STIRRING POEM.
DENIS BRUTUS' NATION BUILDING POEM?
WHY NOT GOOGLE IT?

I CAN'T STOP ADVERTISING MY PAL: DIARY OF A BOOK

“I have seen your book,” Fadugba my course-mate enthused.



“Really? Where did you find it? You know Severin and Tankard is very expensive”, I said referring to a popular textbook.



Fadugba looked at me as if I deserved a hard knock on my big head. “Don’t give me that crap. You know what I meant,” he began again. “Everyone’s talking about it; that book: Genesis – An Anthology of Poems. It’s a nice, man. Keep it up!”



“Thanks. But the book isn’t mine!” I said, pretending to be serious.



He looked at me again - this time looking very furious. My mischief! He opened his mouth but changed his mind. He pointed one of his fingers at me, nodding his head for several seconds. He paused; opened his mouth again and said: “Now I know you have a mental block. If the book isn’t yours, then whose?”



I smiled at him sheepishly. As I opened my mouth to answer him I got a heavy smack on my back. Who could that be?



“Hi! What’s up guys?” the young man who smacked announced from behind, as I struggled to keep my balance. His name is Bola.

GET THE FULL STORY AT BEIBEE'S BEN BLOG

I AM NOT A POET. BUT YOUR WORDS DON'T RHYME.
THE LINES ARE HEAVY. THEY COME ACROSS LIKE YOU ARE
WRITING A PROSE. BUT THE MESSAGE IS IMPORTANT. WHICH
IS SOMETHING GOOD ABOUT YOUR BEGINNING; HAVING A MESSAGE
TO TELL.

KEEP WORKING AT IT. READ OTHER POEMS AND YOU SHALL GROW
SOONER THAN LATER.

YOU CAN CHECK THIS ONE AND ONLY BLOG I KNOW: www.beibee.

IS IT IN NIGERIA YET? GOT TO GET IT FOR MY PAL
BEIBEE.

THE GUY LOVES READING AND WRITING.

YOU CAN CHECK HIS BLOG OUT: www.beibee.

NEVER MIND ME, I AM HIS GREATEST FAN -
THOUGH HE DISLIKES THIS KIND OF PUBLICITY!

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH'S THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH FOR US. THEN I ENJOY READING POEMS FROM MY BOYFRIEND'S BLOG: www.beibee. HE'S HOT WITH PASSIONATE POEMS, SHORT STORIES. WISH I CAN DRAG HIM HERE, BUT HE'S IN LOVE WITH ANOTHER FORUM AND HIS BLOG. WELL, I AM REPRESENTING HIM!

I SEE.
WHY NOT CHECK OUT THIS BLOG: www.beibee.
AND ENCOURAGE THE GUY TO JOIN YOU?

THE VAGINAL MONOLOGUES
BUT ARE THE MEN ACTUALLY LISTENING?
IF ANY, HOW VITAL IS THE NUMBER?

FIND THE BEST OF POEMS HERE-
www.beibee.

NOT BAD AS A PIECE OF ART.
JUST NOT COMFORTABLE WITH
THE RACIST TONE.

NO POEM IS JUST A POEM!

MAIL YOU OR BUZZ YOU?

FOR THIS POEM?

IT'S A-OKAY POEM.
WELL-EXPRESSED YOUR DILEMMA.

john grisham,

I DON'T BLOG. BUT I PROMOTE A BLOG.

CHECK OUT: www.beibee.

IT IS ABOUT POETRY, PROSE AND DIARIES.

IT'S OUT OF PRINT NOW.

THE BOOK IS TITLED: GENESIS- AN ANTHOLOGY OF POETRY [2002]

MY PAL AT www.beibee.
CAN EDIT FOR FREE. PLEASE APPROACH HIM.

CAN I HAVE A LOOK AT YOUR BLOG?

well done all.

it's a good poem.

KAY9, THAT IS A NICE BLURB ON LULU SITE.
WHERE CAN THE BOOK BE BOUGHT?

I AM NOT A WRITER. I HAVE A PAL WHO RUNS A BLOG.
I THINK HE'S GREAT. HE'S WRITTEN A BOOK BEFORE.

YOU CAN CHECK HIM OUT HERE: www.beibee.