Biography of David Olusanya
Contact this Poet on:
The streets are littered with sick crumbs and feeble flakes,
the children are starved with well-fed hunger
the adults are crumbling like castles without stakes.
It all seems to be traced to a lineal blunder.
The babies are kidnapped by malnutrition,
suffering has grown so fat on their tiny skins.
No physician seems to proffer a proper prescription,
for the city and penury are glued like Siamese twins.
Thus a black baker was sent from the skies
with a wonder pen to bake delicious lines
to feed the hungry, to put a dream in their eyes,
and rejoice their sore souls with pleasant rhymes.
His bread is rich and culturally black.
Wisdom, tact and fact, it does not lack.
Its riddles are plain, you need not frown,
some lines are funny; you might think him a clown.
This is black bread from the oven of a baker.
Enjoy the honey-tact to be a nourished partaker.
His oven is a gift from his ex-wife- Rebecca,
whom was stolen by an envious caretaker.
David O. Olusanya
David Olusanya Poems
Mine Poetic Perspective Of Poetry
When the moon walks on your heart, And the world is all an art; It is a priceless portion poetry- A poet's song of liberty.
Who Shall Tend To The Bruises On Our Bac...
How shall we tell the heralding tale, that you and I had our mother for sale? Who shall tend to the bruises on our backs, if the detest the truth that we are Browns?
A Weeping Shadow- National Matter
My soul was stolen by silence- the deafening silence of lamentations. My heart was full of emptiness- emptiness of gruesome vibrations.
The Way I Would Love To Go
This is not a song of woe it's just the way I'd love to go, when my days are fully spent and my years, without a dent.
In My Country
In my country it is a pity that corruption is hawked like water, and so contagious like catarrh.
When You See My Wife, Rebecca
When you see my wife, Rebecca, tell her I'm now a baker; To feed and nourish my hungry kindred, with buttered brown bromate-free bread.
She Seems Uglier Than A Troll
She seems uglier than a troll, with a skin, brutally stripped like a poet's scroll. She's adorned with the raiment of withered roses,
Life Is The Beauty Of Man's Craftiness
Life is the beauty of man's craftiness and the evil of his lust. Life is a pushy and witty waitress; it serves all men by a must.
Death Did Not Kill Those People
Death did not kill those people; Be wise, and let not your minds be little! Death is not guilty, He only discharged an easement duty.
Great Men Are Not Made By Their Breeds
I often hear my mother's voice, saying; 'your destiny is your choice. great men are not made by their breeds, great men are made by their deeds.
Don't Read This Poem; It Is A Lie
Don't read this poem; it is a lie. A poet is merely a truth-born liar, His tongue is naked and never shy- It spits the torrent of flood and fire.
Moti Pade Ayanfemi
Ewa bami ko orin ayo yi Eyin odo ati ololufe asikoyi. Moti je ounje ayo ife, Inu mi si ti kun fun ife.
Come And Eat. My Bread Is Ready
Come and eat. My bread is ready, I have baked it with my time. It is brown and bromate free, You don't have to pay a dime.
Set Me Free And Let Me Live
When shall I dance to my own heart beat, And cease to become what you believe? Set me free and let me live, Ere my time fade bit by bit.
In My Country
In my country
it is a pity
that corruption is hawked like water,
and so contagious like catarrh.
It seems so rampant like bird flu,
that even a fetus has a clue.
It has become the currency in the market place,
and stands to stare you in the face.