Inside feminism

*INSIDE FEMINISM*

Verse I

Men ?
When dullard is head at home,
His skull scarce marital lore,
Retired from duty stinking smell,
He entered raucously,
Rude to all like a dictator.
To a savant head,
The body lotion,
A C at the resting room,
Harmonious face at entrance,
He provide marital bliss.

Verse II

Women ?
When an introvert at home,
The home chores,
None is missing,
At a time the chow is ready,
A total respect and esteem,
Scare of breaking point.
But inside feminism,
Polluted with strange ideas,
Groping for undetained right.

Verse III

A woman at home,
Inside furnishment,
Enough time to pray,
Looking after children,
Less stress,
Now at juncture,
The inspiration of strange ideas,
Whispering in her mind,
I hear it saying,
"He detained my right".

Verse IV

Inside feminism,
The task is evacuating,
They demand men to rest,
They need to sweat,
They want to publicise,
Blowing the whistle on,
You my jazzy madam,
Mingling in public aware.

Verse V

Attention !
When money are kept in a coffers,
Gold are kept in a briefcase,
Diamond are scarce on the street,
Blare not Oh ! A dulcet wife.
Inside feminism,
I smellsense strumpet,
I smellsense savage,
I see downfall ahead,
Straight down to a dungeon well.

Verse VI

When brainwash is misheard,
The eyes become blind,
In appraisal,
Here at the battle line,
You drag and drag,
But nothing will change,
The darkness at the tunnel end,
Ending as widows and divorcees.

Usman Ahmad Murtala.
18/12/2017

MENTOR

MENTOR

When mind is merged,
In academic line.
When a friend become family,
In academic line.
When you become kindred,
In academic line.
Life become bliss with one another.

Over a decade,
Sans guilty concious,
The merged fingers
Like a bunch of banana.

The fresh pair of eye,
Three of you like a siblings,
Unseperated as kidney,
From here to eternity.

Shall i express my inner thought ?
To my beloved pedagogues,
All years as my mentors,
Love you all dear master,
Accept my tenderness with a single

9/12/2017
Usman Ahmad Murtala

THE LAST BREATH

*THE LAST BREATH*

When pain is unbrearable,
The piercing aches vein through,
The hands are tired for waving pain,
The nasals are getting dry,
In last breath on hospital bed.

When death is now a haven,
On the way,
Two conductors arrive,
Each need your contact,
Take the next bus at your right hand.

When death is now a haven,
It falls on friday,
The heart crowded with faith,
The day of absolute gain,
And last breath on hospital bed.

Thank you death,
You took my father,
When is yet time,
To reap his fruits
Upon me and my kindred.

Dear dad,
Here is my earth to cover you,
"Thank you, am resting dear son"
By God grace I hope so here,
Open your palms and ambrace me.

The last breath on hospital bed,
Is a source of profit gain,
Thousands of people waiving pray,
That pierce through your grave,
From now to eternity.

When death is now a haven,
The running profit will provided,
To you and your left wives,
On our way dear dad,
In heaven with joy and plastic smile,
At the kingdom of Rasulullah SAW.

Usman Ahmad Murtala.
3/12/2017