Song of the Pub- A Poem by OLANIYI Abdulwaheed

When the day wears its knickers of dusk,
I can walk without leg
I can talk without tongue
I can drink without throat
            Just throw me bowls of wine
            The one, right from the forest
             Of dying stream
But who needs streams to sanctify Satan to be a saint?

I can swim in the sea of bear
            Just throw me sixty ounces:
            ale, lager, whiskey, gin
            My belly can drown India Ocean
But a lush needs no counsel to be drunk

Give me Everest of meat,
There are free rides to my mouth,
The tarmac of my tongue is laced slippery coal tar
To transport morsels
One just refined from the Island wild
Of pounded yam,
Forget not the toothpick
To dredge the banks of my mouth
But chicken befriends not, the meat consumers

I need a nymphet dame,
One that can play the tune of scrotum,
While the whistle blows,
Under the blanket of the night,
Her ball must roll in the court till dawn,
We must burn the chuckles’ candles to the butt.
But where is the home of whores?
High lust patients need no patience to be HIV patients

Tell barmaid my pouch is in exile
Of dime,
Many pubs take no credit
But therein, in my belly, the credit card for toilet
If pub is not paid, soak away stinks for bailout
Faeces