Outburst Of Fireflies 
esan Ajayi, one of the purest and 
most confident voices among a 
whole new generation of 
Nigerian poets died late last year. He 
was thirty-five and unmarried. Recently 
transferedfrom Ogun State University, 
Nigeria to ObafemiA wolowo University 
as a lecturer in the English department 
where he also doubled as a doctoral 
student. 
Sesan was a lover of the slain Nigerian 
poet Chistopher Okigbo whose tone, 
depth and sometimes sheer turgidity 
reechoes in his poetry. He published 
only one book of poems, A Burst of 
Fireflies (Kraft Books Limited, Lagos) 
outof which these poems are excerpted. 
Below is Sesan's signature from an 
autograph to the editor made shortly 
before his death. 
the promise of age 
(for my 300-level class, 1990/91 
session) 
Your children are now 
wild, 
Lord: 
they dream of 
chocolate on ice, 
they dance 
on skates, 
they wear skeletal brows 
in the day, 
and hairy hedgerows at night; 
they munch man-hours 
On slabs of dreams. 
Lord, your children 
are now wild; 
kitted in bales 
of cow-hide, 
they torture their 
days of innocence 
they wear hot-pants 
in winter, 
SESAN AJAYI 
sing hard-boiled elegies 
On snow-crates, 
paint their arms 
in rows of periwinkle 
Lord, your children 
are now wildthey 
make me afraid; 
for they write out 
the times 
in their festoon of thorn. 
a night out in Choba* 
Nestled in the shrieks 
of nightthe 
opaque scars 
of wandering talons, 
and mired in the grips 
of neglect. 
Once, at ease 
in the rubble 
of neon fumes: 
of golden bazaars 
and puddled presences, 
of atonal shrapnels 
showered on 
burdened lampposts; 
of riddled rust-bins 
hidden in nightlong 
shrieks of orgasm, 
and cascading cadences 
in hidden moments 
of supplication. 
The sooty soul renders 
elegies in miry lanes. 
wayfarer, pray not to 
encounter sentinelled 
winds of travail, 
and cadenced seconds 
of orgasm; 
And may your journey be at daybreak, 
on streets laden 
with copperworms; 
may your wandering be 
a pursuit of 
golden puddles. 
May you not inhale 
wafts of 
tobacco teasers 
coursing through 
sooty hours. 
And, 
pray for zephyrs of dawn, 
not hardened liquids 
of stale hours. 
* Choba is the seat of the University of Port 
Harcourt. 
a dream remembered 
The world shall forgive me, 
in moments of agony; 
trapped in this eerie mood 
I trundle aching emotions, 
walrus dreams of atonement. 
The old aching dream 
shall blossom in dark elegies, 
Sung in terminal tones 
of morning; 
charged in syllables of death, 
I echo the delirium of living 
pausing awhile 
to count yellowing pages 
opening onto momentary 
collage. 
Beaten into scrolls 
of abrasive, 
my tar-trunk is aching; 
the world is a 
plangent scent 
of drowsy hibiscus, 
the congealed, dreamy-eyed 
lonely self. 
Come, my love, 
when the night is awash 
in eerie thunderclaps 
stripping the tweeky tones 
66
of tenement sweepers, 
come, please, to ease 
my somnabulist strip-teasers. 
And, pray for the liquid moment 
of muscled amens, 
the caricatured ligament 
of the lonely cycle; 
burden me with chloroform 
of quickened stargazers, 
receding, heckling, searching 
in the rubble 
of aching dreams. 
And let us be certain 
it's the tone-laced 
aluminium dream 
clear 
in the flush of an April hymn 
of penitence. 
endings? 
(for Dare Okesola) 
You must hurry on 
trembling tarmacs, 
notches on flailles candlesand 
burn bright in the 
soundless raptures of 
aging catacombs. 
Hurry forth, here 
dressed in ashen adrenaline. 
Hurry, here, mutant 
on the rim of 
saxophoned cadences. 
Hurry here, in catacombs 
of salt-washed emotions. 
Hurry, here, in heraldic 
melodies of quickening 
love songs. 
Endings? 
Mutant on the 
acrhival rims of earth: 
you must hurry in 
notched cubicles of delirium- 
Mutant. 
Slit-tones. 
Combed beach-head 
of quicksand. 
anti-SAP song I 
i have wished 
to be nailed 
to the earth, 
to be forgotten 
in mottled cans; 
for i have hidden 
thus far; and to 
be seen is a ritual. 
O Lord, shall 1 still 
run forth to be 
nailed 
when my 
ancient obligations 
run a ring 
round lone alcoves 
of wishes? 
O Lord, nail me, 
if I can't exorcise 
the demon of naira 
to curse my leaking 
purse: for i have 
a wish: 
to be faithful 
to my obligations. 
anti-SAP song II 
here, in the gullies where 
men drown their sorrows 
here, in the lilylakes where 
men are fed on hemlock 
here, in the aging cocoon where 
men never grow 
here, in the valley where 
scales are our only 
measures of success 
here, in this tearfilled 
Chrysalis 
where rivulets turn, at night, 
into lilylakes of age 
yes, here, in this eternity 
of sorrows we shall remain 
heroes 
in this twilight of 
despair. 
a burden of ties 
(for a toiling old woman in Choba. 
Rivers State) 
shall your days be 
spent 
in mindless vacuity? 
O Lord, flaps of wrapper 
in supplication to Heaven: 
shall this grey cloud 
cock her wishes 
in this damned cinder? 
shall your days 
be 
echoes of dreams 
muzzled in madness 
of these giddy times? 
O ageless burden of rainbow, 
shall your days fizzle out 
like ashes scattered 
in the gale of want? 
sokoti 
Forging barnacles of sweat, 
Laden with cairns of metal: 
Hireling, who frogjumps into 
The shattering furnace- 
Mould decanters of 
Corrosive patterns. 
Echoing metallic dawn, 
Straining at God's own leash. IGRl 
67