Waking up unremarkably
To some silly shout.
Arguments never culminate.
We stop not the bout.
The late night lovers hand in hand,
Also in the night.
Beside some cars some make their joint,
Just to keep it tight.
And plays of children never halt,
Even when it’s late.
Reminds one of those memories
When one played with mate.
The goods, the bads, the weaks, the strongs,
Struggling to thrive.
Street turns all up and slams all down,
Yet we shall survive.
So much a ghetto kindred life,
We do know ourselves.
A single death in a crooked corner,
Will not go in shelves.
With care and love we live in joy,
In hustles we jibe.
Religions differ, culture also,
Not to talk of tribe.
However, we’re trying harder
Just to keep it same.
We fight and quarrel, bite and curse,
We cover up our shame.
Have you ever needed something?
What you want is sure.
Stay in line in street and mingle,
You will get it pure.
The goods, the bads, the weaks, the strongs,
Struggling to thrive.
Street turns all up and slams all down,
Yet we shall survive.
Tributes in kinds, greetings in slangs,
Things we do unknown.
In fights we help, battles we stay,
We don’t leave alone.
Houses facing corresponding
To know our neighbours.
“Face me I face you” we do call it,
Hoping for favours.
Iya Segun, Baba Ngozi
People we do know.
Their pains and sorrows, joys and mercies,
Never did they show.
The goods, the bads, the weaks, the strongs,
Struggling to thrive.
Street turns all up and slams all down,
Yet we shall survive.
When moon is full and clouds are dark,
Moonlight tales we share.
The thinly spacious verandah
Serving as the square.
Segun, Bola, Ruka, Obe
Now it’s time to cheer.
Waiting for the elderly man
To come take a chair.
Where to feel the cool night real breeze
That comes with a sooth;
Ready-parked cars waiting for you,
Sitting on the booth.
Clothes we hang on ropes and fences,
Raining we rush in.
For to keep them dry and ready,
Will be done within.
Be smart and active, wise and strong,
The street is for the guy.
Hold your pockets very firmly
Before it turns dry.
The goods, the bads, the weaks, the strongs,
Struggling to thrive.
Street turns all up and slams all down,
Yet we shall survive.
