Dami Ajayi was born in 1986 in Nigeria and has been penning down poems since he was 11. His debut collection of poems, Clinical Blues, which has notoriously remained in manuscript form, was shortlisted for the 2012 Melita Hume Prize. His poems have appeared in several reputable journals in Africa, Europe and America. Dami is also a medical doctor.
Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry
Biography
Konji Blues II
The first time was raw
Like the pickled onions
In a salad of insatiable libido
Bodies glued with passion
As sweat wriggled down flesh
With serpentine recklessness
Our shining skins
Appose to each other with
The keenness of sandwich
Our eyes held themselves in an anchor
And we bleated our hunger in
Microscopic decibels of bed tones.
Voices rose above skins
And ceiling and trashed about
Like our feelings
.
We saw it coming,
Orgasms of many promises,
Wishes and cold cold nights
When only memories sufficed
We saw it going,
Dregs of formality
Strolling out of bodies like
Souls, and what could we have
Done rather than grapple the moment
And grab each other?
I’m sorry;
But I have no regrets.
Dami Ajayi
Featured Poem:
Romasinder Blues
The Man with the bald pate
Is Ward Seven. We
Are mere gate-keepers.
Ro-ma-sin-der
Isn’t that Upper Room glossolalia?
But Keke says it’s a synonym
For God, the answer to all things.
The beauty of intactness
Has made science God’s aficionado
But bantering angels commit glitches
That seep right out of God’s showroom.
Like a set of identical twins
Who need Haloperidol: halos
For pretty dolls.
Out of context is a
New differential for intactness.
But who will buy reality’s wool?
When silken fantasies cast silver
Spangles on man’s consciousness.
Let my mind also play tricks
On me, make my wishes flagellate
Like wands at the magicians’
Conference. Anything but Haloperidol
For this schizophrenic poet.
Ro-ma-sin-der
Isn’t that Upper Room glossolalia
But Keke says it’s a synonym
For God, Not the answer to all things.
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Biography
Dami Ajayi
Biography
Dami Ajayi was born in 1986 in Nigeria and has been penning down poems since he was 11. His debut collection of poems, Clinical Blues, which has notoriously remained in manuscript form, was shortlisted for the 2012 Melita Hume Prize. His poems have appeared in several reputable journals in Africa, Europe and America. Dami is also a medical doctor.
Konji Blues II
The first time was raw
Like the pickled onions
In a salad of insatiable libido
Bodies glued with passion
As sweat wriggled down flesh
With serpentine recklessness
Our shining skins
Appose to each other with
The keenness of sandwich
Our eyes held themselves in an anchor
And we bleated our hunger in
Microscopic decibels of bed tones.
Voices rose above skins
And ceiling and trashed about
Like our feelings
.
We saw it coming,
Orgasms of many promises,
Wishes and cold cold nights
When only memories sufficed
We saw it going,
Dregs of formality
Strolling out of bodies like
Souls, and what could we have
Done rather than grapple the moment
And grab each other?
I’m sorry;
But I have no regrets.
Featured Poem:
Romasinder Blues
The Man with the bald pate
Is Ward Seven. We
Are mere gate-keepers.
Ro-ma-sin-der
Isn’t that Upper Room glossolalia?
But Keke says it’s a synonym
For God, the answer to all things.
The beauty of intactness
Has made science God’s aficionado
But bantering angels commit glitches
That seep right out of God’s showroom.
Like a set of identical twins
Who need Haloperidol: halos
For pretty dolls.
Out of context is a
New differential for intactness.
But who will buy reality’s wool?
When silken fantasies cast silver
Spangles on man’s consciousness.
Let my mind also play tricks
On me, make my wishes flagellate
Like wands at the magicians’
Conference. Anything but Haloperidol
For this schizophrenic poet.
Ro-ma-sin-der
Isn’t that Upper Room glossolalia
But Keke says it’s a synonym
For God, Not the answer to all things.
Konji Blues II
The first time was raw
Like the pickled onions
In a salad of insatiable libido
Bodies glued with passion
As sweat wriggled down flesh
With serpentine recklessness
Our shining skins
Appose to each other with
The keenness of sandwich
Our eyes held themselves in an anchor
And we bleated our hunger in
Microscopic decibels of bed tones.
Voices rose above skins
And ceiling and trashed about
Like our feelings
.
We saw it coming,
Orgasms of many promises,
Wishes and cold cold nights
When only memories sufficed
We saw it going,
Dregs of formality
Strolling out of bodies like
Souls, and what could we have
Done rather than grapple the moment
And grab each other?
I’m sorry;
But I have no regrets.
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