WELCOME!

Hello everyone! what you see here is the product of the pieces of my

thoughts gathered together to find and recall the true meaning of my
MEMORY...Please, I love you all to leave your meaningful comments to help
improve my Blog and may be through your series of comments...I may eventually
find my TRUE MEMORY...Thanks!

MEMORIES...

You are welcome to my haven! I created this in the memory of my memories...I can only hope you will always hang on here as long as you can. But if you have to leave, I want you to please:

Listen to your heart
When it's calling for you
Coz I don't know where you are going
And I don't know why?
But listen to your heart
Before you turn and say...good-bye...

So that our sweetest memories can linger on as long as we live...

Sunday, December 31, 2017

OFU RURU (Songs of my Memory)


A New Year Gift to the world...From the Land of the tigers.

"History is a people's memory 
And without a memory, man is
demoted to the level of animal."
                                     ____Malcom X

Ofu Ruru (Songs of my Memory) tells the story of Ejigbo Mekun, the Land of the tigers. How it came to birth, and the incredulous challenges that the descendants of Fadu Onimewon, the founder of Ejigbo Awori, Lagos State have had to face so many times in the hands of the descendants of his visitors. In other words, Ofu Ruru tells of the constant raging cries of resistance and revolution to undone all the mess that have been made of this town, Ejigbo Mekun, over the last almost two decades.

***Ofuu Ruru loorere o
     Okee ruru L'EEjigbo.  X 2
     Ile bi so o gbe e tiwa o
     Ejigbo rere lo o ti bo o
     Oluwa wa e ya a wa wo
     E ya wa wara e wa wose
     Ayee, aaye X 2
     Aaye lotun o, aaye losi X 2
     Awa o mo ya wa baatete ko
     Ese Owo looye kaatete ko o
     Ese omo looye kaatete ko X 2
     Aayee, aaye X 2
     Aaye lotun o aaye losi X 2
     Awa o mo ya wa baatete ko...

   Ifadunlaiye Onimewon,
I am a poet,
But I do not know how to start
The poem of your life.

   Ejigbo Mekun**
The Land of the tigers,
City of my birth,
The Land of my ancestors.
I have wandered,
Far away from your lap,
Long lost in transit,
Like a thirsty Arabian desert camel 
Craving aimlessly to savour,
From the sacred milk of the gods.
I have wandered,
So far away,
In search of the white-man's literacy.
Until one night,
You beckoned unto me,
And every-night,
Amidst the agony of nostalgia,
And every-day,
Amidst the horror of long hours of tuition,
And the menace of the news of his raging madness,
And cries of sorrows back home.
Shattered,
I sought a way of dancing towards you,
To embrace,
And feel the warmth of your arms,
I so longed to run to you,
To feel your pain and share in your agonies,
But, I could not,
Because I had been chained down,
Deep below the white-man's honey-pot.

   Mewon,
I have made my pledge,
That when I break away,
Freed from my wilderness,
I must come back home,
To face my divine destiny.
I must heed the call of the gods,
To undone the mess they have made,
Out of the city of my birth,
The Land of my ancestors.
I must pay homage to the muses, 
And begin to write the poem of your life.
I must sing the songs of my memory,
And dare to deliver the message of my ancestors.

Chorus: ***Ofuu Ruru loorere o
     Okee ruru L'EEjigbo.  X 2
     Ile bi so o gbe e tiwa o
     Ejigbo rere lo o ti bo o
     Oluwa wa e ya a wa wo
     E ya wa wara e wa wose
     Ayee, aaye X 2
     Aaye lotun o, aaye losi X 2
     Awa o mo ya wa baatete ko
     Ese Owo looye kaatete ko o
     Ese omo looye kaatete ko X 2
     Aayee, aaye X 2
     Aaye lotun o aaye losi X 2
     Awa o mo ya wa baatete ko...

  Onimewon,
They always wondered who I am,
And I am always keen to remind them,
That I am the great-great grandson,
Of the legendary hunter and warrior,
Divinely mold with the spirit of the tiger,
IFADUNLAIYE ELEJIGBO**
I am the Royal Prince of this jungle,
I come from the Land of the tigers,
And the sacred spirits of my ancestors live in me,
Fadu,
I have learned,
From the old ballads of MEWON**
The living tales of how they came,
Into this city of my birth,
The Land of my ancestors.
I have learned,
That when they came,
You stretched your kind arms of brotherhood,
And gave them food and shelters,
You gave them life,
You gave them hope,
And made their future bright,
You guard them away from furious peril,
You saved them from slavery,
In the hands of some distant strangers,
Who might have traded them away,
As spoils of war.
But suddenly,
They stabbed you from the back,
And tried to steal this Land from you,
They tried to kill your memory,
In adverse possession,
They tried to turn your history upside down,
Claiming that you have been fenced,
Far behind the open airfield,
They tried to take your honour away from you,
Claiming they now own this city of my birth,
The Land of my ancestors.

Chorus: ***Ofuu Ruru loorere o
     Okee ruru L'EEjigbo.  X 2
     Ile bi so o gbe e tiwa o
     Ejigbo rere lo o ti bo o
     Oluwa wa e ya a wa wo
     E ya wa wara e wa wose
     Ayee, aaye X 2
     Aaye lotun o, aaye losi X 2
     Awa o mo ya wa baatete ko
     Ese Owo looye kaatete ko o
     Ese omo looye kaatete ko X 2
     Aayee, aaye X 2
     Aaye lotun o aaye losi X 2
     Awa o mo ya wa baatete ko...

   Onimewon,
I will tell the world, that,
Their evil schemes are telling tolls on your children,
They have turned many of your natives to vagabonds,
They have made strangers out of true born,
They have sowed the seeds of hatred
And discord in the hearts of your sons,
They have worn them with the garments 
Of betrayal, arrogance, selfishness and materialism,
They have made them to abandon your course,
And tread the path of the infamous impostors,
Who have rocked your age long boat,
And carelessly soiled our ancestral Royal Oath With their filthy feaces.

  Ejigbo Mekun,
We but calling you,
The mother womb of the earth,
Living under your bossom shade,
Sitting carelessly with laxity,
And hating our present state,
Because we have become the shame of your race,
And now in this very anniversary of my wandering,
My heart becomes the citadel of disgust,
And I am unable to write the poem of your life.

But I,
Wandering Urchin,
Perhaps, I am a sleeper,
Steeped in deep slumber,
Let me be awake! Awake!!
And return back to the values,
And legacies of my ancestors,
Which have been divinely bestowed on us,
From the very beginning.
O Elejigbo,
The tom-tom of revolution beats in my heart,
I want to write the poem of your life,
Which the muses have long haunted,
Beyond my mythical dreams.

   Fadu,
My mind is not at rest,
My head spinning like a carousel,
Because they always want me to keep quiet 
In the face of oppression,
In the face of persecution,
In the face of manipulation,
In the face of intimidation,
In the face of harassment,
In the face of incarceration,
In the face of assassination and murder,
They want me to shut my mouth,
In the face of injustice,
In the face of botched hospitality,
In the face of adverse possession,
In the face of constant threat and terror.
They don't want me to talk about myself,
Because they want to kill my identity,
But I say No!!!
I must tell the world my history,
Because I know who I am,
I must sing the songs of my memory,
I must heed the call of the gods,
And dare to deliver the message of my ancestors.

Chorus: ***Ofuu Ruru loorere o
     Okee ruru L'EEjigbo.  X 2
     Ile bi so o gbe e tiwa o
     Ejigbo rere lo o ti bo o
     Oluwa wa e ya a wa wo
     E ya wa wara e wa wose
     Ayee, aaye X 2
     Aaye lotun o, aaye losi X 2
     Awa o mo ya wa baatete ko
     Ese Owo looye kaatete ko o
     Ese omo looye kaatete ko X 2
     Aayee, aaye X 2
     Aaye lotun o aaye losi X 2
     Awa o mo ya wa baatete ko...

   Onimewon,
So many a time,
With their bogus lies and mischief,
They have tried to send me back and forth 
To the darkest of the gallows,
Yet, they have sent many on a bloody journey of no return.
They have tried to make me run far away 
From the city of my birth, 
The Land of my ancestors.
Alas! They tried to batter my history,
And turn it upside down.
They have tried to tie me to a stake,
And take my memories away,
Many a time,
They have tried to crucify and slaughter me
On the open alter of hatred and malice,
Praying,
 That I must pay so dearly with my life,
For daring to open up my mouth,
To sing the songs of my memory.
But unmoved, 
I look up to their face,
To tell them that...I am but just a poet,
I must sing my songs,
So, let me be gone
For singing the songs of my memory.
If they kill me,
They cannot kill the spirit of the tigers in me,
If they maim me,
They never can maim the ancestors in me.
Still, I will tell the world,
That they cannot erase my memory,
They cannot kill my history,
I will not allow them to take my honor away from me,
If I must die,
Then I must sing the songs of my memory,
And dare to deliver the message of my ancestors,
I am not afraid of dying,
Because I am but just a messenger of the gods.

Chorus: ***Ofuu Ruru loorere o
     Okee ruru L'EEjigbo.  X 2
     Ile bi so o gbe e tiwa o
     Ejigbo rere lo o ti bo o
     Oluwa wa e ya a wa wo
     E ya wa wara e wa wose
     Ayee, aaye X 2
     Aaye lotun o, aaye losi X 2
     Awa o mo ya wa baatete ko
     Ese Owo looye kaatete ko o
     Ese omo looye kaatete ko X 2
     Aayee, aaye X 2
     Aaye lotun o aaye losi X 2
     Awa o mo ya wa baatete ko...

   Elejigbo, 
Just before I pay so dearly with my life,
I will dance my pen round my soul,
And with every single drop of my blood,
I will write your name out of the debris of their mess,
I will take it back!
And tongue them away from the city of my birth,
I will sing the songs of my memory,
And dare to deliver the message of my ancestors,
I am not afraid of dying,
Because I am but a messenger of the gods.

Chorus: ***Ofuu Ruru loorere o
     Okee ruru L'EEjigbo.  X 2
     Ile bi so o gbe e tiwa o
     Ejigbo rere lo o ti bo o
     Oluwa wa e ya a wa wo
     E ya wa wara e wa wose
     Ayee, aaye X 2
     Aaye lotun o, aaye losi X 2
     Awa o mo ya wa baatete ko
     Ese Owo looye kaatete ko o
     Ese omo looye kaatete ko X 2
     Aayee, aaye X 2
     Aaye lotun o aaye losi X 2
     Awa o mo ya wa baatete ko...

____Martin Luther Kings Jnr.

                     Wednesday, 27th December 2017.
2.47am,
Ejigbo Lagos.

@AdeolaGoloba 2018













Tuesday, April 28, 2015

SHALL WE LET GO? ( To Xeno, the son of Phobia)

"This business of burning human beings with napalm, of filling our nation's homes with orphans and widows, of injecting poisonous drugs of hate in to the veins of peoples normally humane, of sending men home from dark and bloody battlefields physically handicapped and psychologically deranged, cannot be reconciled with wisdom, justice and love. A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death...We will never have peace in the world until men everywhere recognize that ends are not cut off from means, because the means represent the ideal in the making, and the end in process. Ultimately, you can't reach good ends through evil means, because the means represent the seed and the end represents the tree...The old law of an eye for an eye leaves everybody blind. It is immoral because it seeks to humiliate the opponent rather than win his understanding. It seeks to annihilate rather than to convert. Violence is immoral because it thrives on hatred rather than love. It destroys community and makes brotherhood impossible. It leaves society in monologue rather than dialogue.Violence ends by defeating itself. It creates bitterness in the survivors and brutality in the destroyers...When evil men plot, good men must plan. When evil men burn and bomb, good men must build and bind. When evil men shout ugly words of hatred, good men must commit themselves to the glories of love.Where evil men would seek to perpetuate an unjust status quo, good men must seek to bring into being a real order of justice." ---Martin Luther King, Jr.
"

Our limbs now fight to narrowly survive
These morbid characters of XENO, the son of PHOBIA.



 (This poem is dedicated to all the victims of recent Xenophobic attack in South - Africa, the injured, the dead, and the fortunate survivors...old, and young.)

Mother Africa…there’s fire on the mountain
We are no longer at ease with one another
Shall we let go…look on, and vanish in silence
While things continue to fall apart?

Must we set forth at dawn
Ride on the famished wings of time
To finally right that which is wrong
Or forever shut in this horrid room called hell?

Broken and shattered, we nimble on
As always, to reluctantly pick up
All there was to remain
The broken pieces of our concocted lives

Withered limbs, we gasped
As we struggled to fight to breathe
But not to poison the sacred air
And the fragrant pleasure it has to give

Yet, unable to mend our broken ways
We have turned pieces of bent and broken limbs
From decades of fraud, arrogance and blatant misrule
Which have remained a naked sore on their wicked souls

Their stubborn indifference…crass laziness
Paved our common streets every night with poverty
Hunger, diseases, hatred, war…and death
And now the birth of XENO, son of PHOBIA spilling blood

Our hearts must have been made of stone
Even when healings came through the backyard of victory
That EBOLA fell to the damning claws of our collective WILL
After many cries run into tears of doom

Together we tore down the evil fabrics of APATHEID
And now are over-joyed with grace and hopes
When our Nation willingly DECIDED to move
Past the strange verdict of the foreign apocalyptic prophets

But joy, has a slender body that breaks too soon
Eventually, that too was broken
As our limbs now fight to narrowly survive
These morbid characters of XENO, the son of PHOBIA

Oh Mother Africa! There’s fire on the mountain
We are no longer at ease with one another
Shall we let go…look on, and vanish in silence
While things continue to fall apart?

Must we now set forth at dawn
Ride on the famished wings of time
To finally, right that, which is wrong
Or forever shut in this horrid room called hell?



©adeolagoloba 2015

Monday, March 9, 2015

ÌSÀ Ñ WÓ RU - The Boiling Cauldron...


                           The Boiling Cauldron     


We came here

To live…in peace

We came…to find love

We aimed…to share friendship

And hoped…to fully embrace life

To savour the cooling breeze of nature

We sailed long…long distance

From the warmth embrace

Of our mother’s womb

To inhale the healing scents

Of paradise earth

We came…

To work and tilt the ground

Forever cultivate harmony

On the lush green

Of this globe-like plantation

Alas! We found nothing

Nothing…but strange scurrying bodies

Violently lurking in the shadow

Of the moonlight blaze

Like some turbulent frictions

On an extremely hot galaxy

Gold flaming, silver burning

Bronze melting, copper fuming

Ocean surging, global warming

Forest blazing, poisonous gas poluting

Earth quaking, flood invading

Power tussling, arms proliferating

Scurrilous rumours spreading, war lingering

Al-qaeda deadly, al-shabbab scary

ISIS daring, boko-haram alarming

Mass weapon destructing, deadly terror striking

Sociopolitical acrimony ravaging,

Ethno-religious struggles consuming

Battles raging, men fighting

Gun shattering, blood shedding

Suicide commissioning, bomb blasting

Love fading, hatred ruling

Peace failing, harmony falling

Hope dying, determination wanning

Soul shaking, heart breaking

Aids killing, fear soaring

Hunger maiming, poverty biting

Life’s threatened, home’s drenched in chaos

Oh…this place is nothing

Nothing…but a hot, hot zone

Nothing…but a boiling cauldron.




©adeolagoloba 2015