Middle Man

Middle Man

One foot in the room,
The other in the hallway.
Enough to know what is going on,
Not enough to be part of it.

Always the excuse to insist,
“I’m not in your room!”
Always questioning whether you’re allowed,
to come in or whether to keep your distance.

The problem with being a middle man.


Made in Germany, Manufactured in Nigeria

Made in Germany, Manufactured in Nigeria

Suffering the same fate as Zeno,
my tongue ripped from throat;
yes, the cat did feed.
Grammatical rules still battle
with the english –

I prefer my butter toasted,
put some tea in my sugar;
slips of the tongue evade me
my tongue running past my mind
talking too fast.

I am truly Made in Germany
the language lies dormant in me
my mind tingles when the language
tickles my ear or tantalises my eyes
yearning for the culture

Homemade cheesecake, deep green
landscapes, the mother land interconnected
by Autobahn.
Crisp, fresh air and sparkling water,

Torn from my half roots,
Mother manufactured in Nigeria,
her roots deep set in her OWN motherland,
she still owns her tongue
emersed me in the culture and customs,

The language rings familiar in my ears,
though fluency evades me,
E kaa-ro, e jo, kini? olodo, oloshi
Simplicity speaks to me

so this is the meaning stamped to my back
to forever remind me of my lineage.