Skip to main content

THEY SAY I HAVE NO CERTIFICATE






By Akeem Lasisi


They say I have no certificate
As if you need the Cambridge magic
To bamboozle your way to the hallowed space
As if you need an Oxford’s ticket
To bully your way to the national cake.
I stayed in the varsity for so long
I bagged an Elderstudentsmanship with a
record break
I rocked the campus like a mystery plague
I got a bachelor of arts in a science course.
They say I have no certificate
But, online and offline, I rock customised
Lamborghinis plus oversight jeeps
Those who decorate their garages with
doctoral crests
Are writing my biography in a stunning haste
I am the elephant with a single arm:
I uproot a palm tree with super awe
If the elephant had two arms
It would bring the Pluto to its arrogant knees.
They say I have no certificate
As if a certificate is akpu and afang soup
That makes the visitor to Ibom to tarry long
As if a certificate is amala and gbegiri
That makes Ibadan a dangerous place for a
greedy mouth.
When did a degree become the sumptuous
tuwo masara
When did it acquire the power of fura de
nunu
Delicacy kings of the Northern belt?
They say I have no certificate
But Dejo is mad, Dejo is mad
Dejo eats pounded yam with the arm of a goat
Dejo is crazy, Dejo is mad
Dejo eats amala with the thigh of a ram.
They say I have no certificate
Yet I never conducted any medical test
Before I diagnosed menopause on the Senate
floor
The hen pecks at corn; it strikes at beans with
dispatch ease
Yet it keeps lamenting the absence of teeth:
The goat with a dental heritage
Has it ever eaten stones with its certificated
teeth?
If the farmer refuses to promise me choice
yam
I can cause the rain to hide in the sky
If the king wants to prove unduly stubborn
I cause the budget to hang in the air.
They say I have no certificate
And I appropriate billions with casual bliss;
Knowing that SANs are eager to plead my
cause
I misappropriate billions with jumbo swag
When they ask for my payslip
I slip a pittance into the stupid air
When they ask me for the total pay
I spin a myth like a master tortoise.
They say I have no certificate.
They say I don’t have certificate
Shame I know I do not have
But I flaunt my shamelessness with national
pride.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

FACULTY OF THE MIND

By Jeremiah JOSHUA Deep darkness invades the mind, as thoughts of evil walks its hall way, giving impulses of feelings, lustful ones claiming to give peace. Strong and strange desires craving for what looks like the unknown. giving suggestions to the faculty on how to deplete and decrease our spiritual GP of righteousness. Trying to do good was the intent, but seeing a rival in our senses. haven't clearly seen and read this  lines from the book that gives wisdom that this courses are not to be taken in this great citadel, the MIND. But consciously and unconsciously we see them sneaking and stripping into our classroom to be masticated and acted upon. Slowly breaking down our tower piece by piece and leaving the faculty in ruins and not in peace . The infallible and irrefutable words we have once read from the book of wisdom is all we have left to stand against and battle this evil encroaching the terrains of our faculty. To yield to the great pers...

SALEWA

By Jonathan Oladeji I don’t know how many people have met Salewa before, even if it is not the Salewa I am talking about. What can you say is common about every Salewa? It’s usually their room mates that can testify better. I met Salewa in my 200 level and she told me her name was Sally. I stared at her for hours before managing to pick a seat behind her in the then AUD 2 on the Great Ife campus. Salewa is the typical tall, slim, dark and beautiful (TSDB) girl. I approached with all caution because I wanted to make a good impression. Even though I am not much of a fashionista, I could see her wrist bracelet, earrings and neck-piece were a complete set out of an A-Class boutique. Salewa was not the bend-down select kind of girl. I wanted to break out of that circle too by all means. We talked awkwardly at first, then kicked off with a bit of more fashion related gist as I noticed that was all she wanted to talk about. I actually wanted to talk about drawing boards and painting c...

BED AS A SLAUGHTER SLAB.

Another sinister stab... a bed as a slaughter slab. A branch broken down; death with a fierce frown. Another drunk knife. An assailant of a wife. Neglected role of a mother. Now a brutal butcher. Body riddled by holes... sadness slays our souls. Another gruesome death; candles about to melt. Fear in the camp of men... a callous campaign by women. How many more men will fall? Devilish handwriting on the wall. No more dreams in our sleeps. Our slumbers are no longer deep. A death devoid of bliss; we still pray you rest in peace. Lanre badmus November 2017