Naija Poetry | The Anointed Parrot

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SaintDiamond Great

Friday 29 March 2024

The Anointed Parrot

Kayabada!

Says she

With malicious looks.

I say

Abracadabra da abraxas

Matata de maratata

Magana banza et lingual ignota

Literae ignotae-

Marakini bakini:

Dat unknown grammar.

The grey

flew from nowhere

To somewhere around

my bare head, saying,

Bakini bakini-

Who art thou

to speak iyaric mysteries

The language of the gods.

I said

Lalata de maga:

I’ m tried and trusted

Tested and magadan!

Kayabada Lala:

I’m possessed of comic

spirit

Possessing like a possessed

iron pig

Speaking

Kiniki kiniko

As the anointed parrot.

My swag flows from the

heavenly rock of inspiration

Flowing with milk

and honey

With bald comb:

“The bald of naija.”

Upon this rocky style

I will build my protégé

The reeling voices of

literary critics

Shall not prevail against

the anointed parrot.

Continuing

I said

Lamerick lacuna

da matata de maratata

Literary jargons

beautifying

Beautiful nonsense

too beautiful to ignore!

Adamic language

too metaphoric

Extended metaphor

stretched beyond

its reach.

Who goes ‘u’?

The angry grey

like the angry bird

Preventing me from speaking.

My mouth opened

by itself-

’’I man is the president

Emeritus

for jargonic and alienic

linguistics’’

With literary regulation

sensation and

protective shield.

Shield against literary

guidelines and meter

I’m freed from the bondage

of meter

And her co-conspirators-

Rhyme scheme,

formal verse and

blank verse.

Sensation born out

of inspiration

Inspiration that mothered

aspiration.

I do poetic steps

Leaving rhythmic steps

for Michael Jackson.

Formal verse is too officious

Blank verse is just plain

Like a blank wall….

Shut up!

The grey interrupted

my thoughts and capped:

’’The anointed parrot

Knew how to spin

a good yarn’’

Then she prostrated herself

on the diamond floor

Kissed me

And flew away in bare

feet to Ulaabaatar

Having been jagajagally

wounded and

abracadabrally defeated.

Her beak

like barbed wire

Wire, wire

Had skinned my head

And my medulla oblongata

Gushed out and

became an ocean

Very oceanic,

As wide as the whole

wide world.

Once again

My mouth opened

by herself-

’’Any shaking tree

is a suspect!”

Behold

My beak widened

the world

With the word

And the word has

broadened my horizons

beyond the horizona.

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