abbas abubakar

Sons of ancient soil
Sons of ancient moon
Sons of our old mother
Who wake before dawn
...

Why do you want to eat me
And give me the remains
You held my hands
That you know a spring
...

I came to the world
With a word in my palm
I trekked through this valley
Just to sow this word in wind's womb
...

Broken chair walk in cloud of gravel spine
Yet montanes cry of lost voices
Deserts have been encroached by stamps of death
Claws of wind tearing shielding rocks if desolate soul
...

Many creatures are in ovation
Humming and singing in glee
For this day is a birthmark
Of a genius on earth
...

After a sunny night
I sat to write
The thorns of my life
Came a man in white
...

When i looked back
I saw yesterday's corpse
Floating away on sea of contempt
It had many mourners
...

Truly, I cant fly
But my food
In the hands of those
That have wings
...

Rising from my pant of infantry
I saw the crescent in a mien
That pour sadness in my bowl
I feel the wry in sun's cloth
...

Last night
My itching fingers could not be
I sat by my crying ink
Tossing long gazes at candle flames
...

We are yet to be born
But death is in seige
We have heard clunks of daggers
Chanting eulogy of our bonless flesh
...

You were on your way
It seamed a long way
You saw the way
And took the way
...

I want to sing a song
For my brothers in jungle
Who wade on tarmac of tears
Who cripples on mountains of spines
...

The world is one
You are one
Your desire is one
You shall keep chasing
...

My voice is low and sober
Without the benign breathe
Of this gentle nous
That led my rod of knowledge
...

M y legs are dusty
As though a wafarer I be

My garment swims in sweat
As though a digger I be
...

Enough of those jagged rod
Chopping off our intestine
Enough of those tuneless music
Burying the berries of our band
...

I wonder where the bruise came

I that comand the birds to wash my dish
Walked with stainless feet on glossy pitch
...

Why have you enslaved other masters
And tie their virginity to your bloody invirginity
You sprinkle your wings of unfaithfulness
To doorsteps of churches and mosques
...

There was a time
On the cover page of history
When morning would wake nakedly
Puffed in rhythmic silence
...