Before the darkness

Freckles of joy

caressing my agitated nipples

just before the darkness.

Dark and brazened,

my foot trots towards the dark alley.

Dead are my instincts,

melted by molten hatred,

hardened by gale of passion.


I push on

knowing not what creeps

in the blinding darkness.




Eye see you

Eternal light of providence

Rising-warmth across the horizon


Eye know you

The re-visiting morning visitor

going to come again


Eye love you

The energy of growth

You are the death that brings life.

Prince Charming

Joseph of the rusty metallic coat…

Do not laugh at me, daughters of Egypt
Do not mock me
It’s true I wear shackles
And not bangles
So true, I was bought for twenty shekels
But deep within me, I’m a Prince
I may wear a rusty metal coat of bondage
And not your dream shinning armour
I may be holding a staff
And not yielding a flaming sword
I may be leading a flock
And not commanding the ranks
But what you don’t know is –
Portiphar’s house is the potter’s place
I’m only being moulded
I’m only being shaped

Do not jeer at me, daughters of Egypt
Do not look down on me
It’s true that I live in the prison
So true that I’m an inmate
But I’m truly meant for the palace
I may wear rags and do the drainage jobs
And not appear the white collared, pen holding dream of yours
I may labour all day for no pay
And not look like your ideal man that makes it rain all day
But what you don’t know is –
The prison is a quarry site
I’m only being chiselled
I’m only being notched

Do not be bewildered, daughters of Egypt
Do not stare at me in awe
I am the same Joseph you know
Joseph the young slave boy
Yes, Joseph the prisoner…
I am now your Prime Minister
And I’m not fit for just any woman
I wear the King’s emblem
And I’m not least of the royal bloods.
While I learnt my lessons – you scorned
While I was in the making – you mocked
Sorry you missed your chance
Sorry you played the wrong card
I came off the potter’s wheel ready
I left the quarry site refined
Now I am to pick my Bride
And even Pharaoh knows –
Only Asenath would do.

from ‘Songs of Yesteryears’ by Yinka Amao

How many more

How many more

Before I have my fill…

How many more tears will flow –

To fill my ever growing

Basket of despair

How many more

Rain, pain, shame.

How many more fight

Before our bitter strive is laid to rest

How many more

Hate, rage, dirge…


How many search

before I’ll find you

How many more

Craving, longing, dying…

from ‘Songs of Yesteryears’ by Yinka Amao

How I came by…

Like the millet chaff
Tossed here and there by the wind
I came by
Finally finding a fitting hollow to settle…
Like the flood after the rain
I find my course to the river
To begin a new flow again…
Like a young tree
After surviving a turbulent stormy night
Bowing to the wind
I raise my head at dawn to greet the sun…
Like the moon
After sleeping all day
I wake at twilight to work all night…
Like a guard
On a watchtower
I long all night
Waiting for the day to come…
Like a child patiently waiting
For the ice cream vendor
I salivate over the thought
Of the flavour over and over…
Like an eagle
Soaring above the wind
Ruling the skies
I spread my wings in dominance…
Like a superior specie
I outnumber others
Spreading like a virus across the fields…
Like footballers on the pitch
I take my post alongside others
To achieve same goal…
Like the Grim reaper
Knowing no rest
Taking young and old
I continue my endless quest…
Like when X is infinity
I get lost in endless thought
Rotating, revolving and evolving
Like the earth in endless space…
I keep trying to make sense of this vanity…
While praying for my eternity.
This is how I came by…
This is how I always come by.