carnivalling

in rings they sing
at the walls of this thing
they sing and they sing
Lord knows they sing
and here there comes another ring
in streets down there they left there bare
black topped and striped to give them flare
and hardly ever swept who knows who cares
hair weavened heads swinging from homemade vines
they getting high on the sound
of them endless rhymes and syncopating mimes
dancing bare footed sweating in the winter time
and ‘round and ‘round and ‘round and ‘round
in the shadow of things they never win
before it comes back it done n gone by again
amen amen amen
in rings they sing
at the walls of this thing
they sing and they sing
Lord knows they sing
and here there comes another ring
in church how they sweat
and while they praying and yet
the preacher hustling some blues
‘fore dancing feet in they shoes
there’s heaven under one shell
but then you never can tell
just where the sweet smell of hell
they turning ‘round and ‘round and ‘round and then
they jumping outa they seat
there sitting down again
amen amen amen
in rings they sing
at the walls of this thing
they sing and they sing
Lord knows they sing
and here there comes another ring
inside they head
where all they know is they said
and what they make believe
divide’em here from the dead
dark shadows they greased and on they stroll
left in there wandering into growing on old
going along those roads like it been foretold
they swirling they dabbled with Africa traces
made up borrowed from they kin in jungled places
laughing they laughing at they small dark faces
spinning ‘round and ‘round and ‘round and when
they running away there over yonder
they standing right here again
amen amen amen
in rings they sing
at the walls of this thing
they sing and they sing
Lord knows they sing
and here there comes another ring
when help it come it on the run
it always something it never done
somebody proclaim they holy name
for fame and pockets full of bubbled gum
driving big white boats through desert lands
pouring sparkling sands in begging dark hands
and basketballs in tiny food cans
going ‘round and ‘round and ‘round they been
they keep coming on back so’s to go again
amen amen amen
in rings they sing
at the walls of this thing
they sing and they sing
Lord knows they sing
and here there comes another ring
tomorrow it comes and it never nears
eyes they dried by their falling tears
brown bottles scattered and emptied full
of checker games and the silver bull
in vacant lots under old shade trees
rolling dice with no eyes under bended knees
frozen there waiting for the end of something
that’s always never come
looking ‘round and ‘round and ‘round they grin
always there at where they been
amen amen amen
in rings they sing
at the walls of this thing
they sing and they sing
Lord knows they sing
and here there comes another ring

Copyright © 1995 Asili Ya Nadhiri

Hickory
(a poem of Kano, Nigeria)

through the blowing sand
you’ve seasoned
in front of these few little embers
your shrivelled feet cracking
like dried river beds

what do you see
through those eyes you carry
in the rags you’re twisting
to tie up a goat
the memory of a way lost
in the turn of time
and weathered in this shed
where you bow your head

Copyright © 1991 Asili Ya Nadhiri

Kano Women
(of Kano, Nigeria)

the women here have cocoa colored glances
that always seeming to go somewhere else
their bodies are covered in long wraps of cloth
dipped in many colors bright
made out in the sun
walking tall along long dirt paths
child tied there on her back
a bucket full of water resting here on her head
her delicate shoulders quietly nestled
smoothly flowing softly going
in the gentle swaying whisper of her presence
here in this baked desert land cool
water she’s sipped pouring here through our hands
coming there in my eyes going here otherwise
everywhere and besides
so silent so heard
the resonance of melodious words

Copyright © 1990, 2015 Asili Ya Nadhiri

Here in the Ditches of Kano (Nigeria)

black muddy water won’t flow

jes sit’n here waiting for the rain

winds of Sahara blow dust everywhere

too much to sweep don’t even dare

black muddy water won’t flow

jes sit’n here waiting for the rain

long steps smooth proudly they go

pretty people run’n moving real slow

black muddy water won’t flow

jes sit’n here waiting for the rain

markets so many wares and charms

plastic and bones to make strong arms

black muddy water won’t flow

jes sit’n here waiting for the rain

rows of beggar bowls sown in the street

many go hungry so a few can eat

black muddy water won’t flow

jes sit’n here waiting for the rain

few hands resting on many heads bowed

holy words blurred keep everyone cowed

black muddy water won’t flow

jes sit’n here waiting for the rain

Copyright © 1990 Asili Ya Nadhiri

The *Wall
(of Kano, Nigeria) 

the ground is trembling
no one knows
when a step will be taken
until the memory
no visions are dared
eyes have no motion
asking no things
legs dart here and there
on feet abandoned
everywhere
the day is a ritual
starting at sunrise
never the night before
thoughts of tomorrow is tabooooo
“I have little that I want
I want nothing I don’t have”
houses have no windows
thick mud clay walls
dole out each breath
too little for dreaming
worth lives in the markets
patches landscape the people and things
and the ways of doing them
in layers lives are caked
“I cannot see
I will not see
I don’t have to see”
the sacred is profaned
the steps proclaimed
counted over and over
between dark bony fingers
as fat men
“who don’t need to see”
blow dust and debris
in the eyes and wills of gym people
with the holy words they have writ
in a field
sets a seat of higher learning
squat several boys moving their bowels
queaks a machine making bricks
stands a fire truck out of gas
here
where beginning is never beginning
and always never ending
in this land
with no language but many tongues
no voice but many songs

*Historically, many towns in northern Nigeria were enclosed by walls for defensive purposes.

Copyright © 1990 Asili Ya Nadhiri

(aloning aloned we’re wandering
wandered on in this just wandering
on the edge of our beach
by the stones on its shores
knowing knowd un-be-knownst the unknowing
where now that it’s was this there) 

help! is a most aloning call to ever be trying to be making
 (requiem in purple for Vi and Maxie) 

“to what do we wish for you  my friend  to be blinded
in a innocent most kind of your never even minding
what do we wish   to be lost for you
so politely that it be   be never ever founded . . .”
that no end knowd us then for us to be bounded

“laying here in these bed sores   mindfully sequestering
trapped inside this traitorous body   despised
way beyond the pale of any surmising . . .
—damned so-called friends going on otherwising
i’m holding on to your voice in our memories of you
all alone by my self in a veiled demising
like our Dr. Maxie in there   he’s en-festering too
‘tween the neutering walls of municipalling halls
swaddling there swaddled just swaddling on
then going home to the family of a stranger’s bed
where he died there all alone by him self  like me
in the plastic charms of another armless wife
—his own children they left    there standing outside”

“all themm-d infantile whims we wedded
when we knowd they were all just greeding
breeding rows of thick vixened brows
that we cuddled too close to our bosoms
servants we were to the toying behest
of their plundering bedeckoned calls
now we both of us here  all together
in the wake of this confess
and the resignating plea
that’s all that’s left of our selves

there just won’t enough time
just won’t enough time . . . for us left”

Copyright © 2007 Asili Ya Nadhiri

if when is then
and then is when
and now is on and on
what then is now
what now is when
and when is ever then
and where in when and in what then
do stories we tell they all begin
and do they ever ever end
and what it is they all intend 

now then in here wave-ing here when 

in here i’m bound then for most never found
‘mongst a public litter that’s more renown
and this numbing i’m feeling in here when
keeps being spreading on out all over
dissipating your children aborting them now
raping us all on deeper mo’ deeper mo’ deeper
in the languishing retard of vicarious simulations
and you keeping on marching on just like you told
never minding ‘bout this something
you done’n’nicknamed it me

crowded in crowds you aloned   aloning all alone
syncopated hallucinating in your own plastic arms
advertising patronizing emboldened perverse-nations
leeched you leaking on into a same one another
you wanting other but you scared   you so scared!
of the feeling little left that you feeling it’s leaving
and you never ever ever make’it so you be seeing
what you wanting i’m always waiting in here waiting

but you keep on sucking on them-ed used sugar titties
cunningly consumed in the daunting consumption
of your own hypnotic and callous-ive consuming
you hallowing the hustlers desecrating your time
swelling your heads with masturbating rhymes
auctionating in palladiums of a popular clime
and you erasing me on mo’ furthering on away
smothering in spells of a boundless dismay
then sewing up into things of animated clay
as nows and thens and ever whens
keep keeping right on entangling

Copyright © 2007 Asili Ya Nadhiri

tha -inged-ing -duh-ing 

in a grand mastu-r-bation
we all us all con-trivialating in ethnicized configurations
that “it’s just all about me”
pander’n pandered hip-notic panderers
pump’n like this all that real
. . . but the coffle-linged eyes en-still-ing
they still betraying us all
the prancing stones we marched on
in a hummed-drummed marching

and every body hustling shuffled on in the hustling
knowing that we knowing that we knowing we all whores
rehearsing for the selling in the sale sold selling
drivelling mouths scrolling fast our consensual snide
in farting words trolling out some big protuberating ass
propagating this numbing perver-se-nation-ning om

swallowing all and we all  swallowed-up in the swallowing
he-s down-lowing him-s just like the same as with her she-s
rainbowed feeling-s ‘round in them-ed shadows
trying to pawn forbidden things
painful gnawing coalitions of this unknowing retard

we all us all we every thing-ing
just trying to come back here inside
and always through an other
that’s this some nother body self-ing

Copyright © 2007 Asili Ya Nadhiri

choral-lizing juba-lizing       a stultifying dis-synergizing
 (chess-mastering is serpentine-ing mathematizing:
a wise one will always be smart,
but a smart one may never be wise)

coffling eyes numbing in the humm drumm sunging
of clamorous hustlers pluming in talented tenth–ing clubs
this ancient hubris   still scheming in gangs gangling on
leeching the blood of us all   spilling here looking
it mo’ insidious now nesting in nefarious vocalizings
anesthetizing synthesizings   of old rhythmating charms
dissolving all of us denying on in our rusing refusals
to just pause while here inside   and reverently muse
scared   we all stumbling running ‘round trying to hide
from this colding emptying   swelling torridly inside us
desperately fusing   propagating on out here  all around
aloning is eroding the sands of our beaches
swallowing ourselves on in our own entangling arms
playing to the blaring sirens of this persistent dismaying
coffling eyes numbing in the humm drumm sunging
of clamorous hustlers pluming in talented tenth–ing clubs
this ancient hubris   still scheming in gangs gangling on
leeching the blood of us all   spilling here looking
it mo’ insidious now nesting in nefarious vocalizings
anesthetizing synthesizings   of old rhythmating charms
dissolving all of us denying on in our rusing refusals
to just pause while here inside   and reverently muse
standing up leaning we feeling around on our knees
snorting vain delusions of masturbating hands
shuffling our scant aborting ponderings of why
consuming all everything grabbing way ‘fore it comes
there is no anchoring ground to which we will bound
hypnotically sucking our dry brittle bones of renown
and rehearsing our vaunting howling enthrallings
so you knowing my face is the one that’s in vogue
just in case it be the case that we come to be found
coffling eyes numbing in the humm drumm sunging
of clamorous hustlers pluming in talented tenth–ing clubs
this ancient hubris   still scheming in gangs gangling on
leeching the blood of us all   spilling here looking
it mo’ insidious now nesting in nefarious vocalizings
anesthetizing synthesizings   of old rhythmating charms
dissolving all of us denying on in our rusing refusals
to just pause while here inside   and reverently muse

 Copyright © 2009Asili Ya Nadhiri

mathematizing

our enslavement
to logic lulls us
with a deceptive
security predicated
on our sacred belief
that its description
of the creation is so
very nearly “1 t0 1”
in correspondence
that all phenomena
are obliged to adhere
to its mechanical
predictions and the
fondling massaging it
affords us with the
swollen and desperate
pettiness of proclaiming
“I WIN!“

Copyright © 2015 Asili Ya Nadhiri