Dundun at work again,
The melody sounds as usual but more distinct.
Ayan, the drummer that masters his language,
In numbers their voices talk about his premises
As they dismiss something and admit the drummer's world views
With their own lenses or perhaps through his "gugu"
Who understands "kongi"?
They speak to express their thoughts.
Dundun at its work again,
At work,their legs take a leap repeatedly and move
To follow the sound of dundun,
The native drum that never stops its speech
Dundun never stops to mirror visible and invisible concepts -
Living and imagined:
All in one package,
The dundun rolls out its messages again!
And the drummer's flagrant sweat
On their bodies forms the wet
That seems as a net
For they act in a forum within a tent
Of great ideas.
And the talking dundun says more
To put them on their toes!
The "mosquetos" out of the way,
Dundun says,
Even the parrot, the master of human voices
Has its master!
Dundun is not cagged,
So all over the voice of dundun attracts
Distracts,
And generates new voices
Talking and anchoring on dundun.
The master of all that can be said with just a hold on the string.
The laborus fan,
That at glance blows away the wings of mosquitoes.
The ring that brings together dancers with diverse body reactions -
All with their legs to the rhythm of the drum.
All I know,
That I know,
That I know,
Am the drum continues to talk.
All I know,
That I know,
That I know,
As the eyes of the drum sees further
The voice of the drum making other voices to talk
And talk,
And talk,
As the drum does its work endlesly,
As the world moves, so the the drum moves and talks clearly and critically.
Dundun, the voice that raises other voices,
The thinker that makes others to think.
Does everybody understand the language of dundun.
Perhaps Adebayo Faleti,
The master poet is awake somewhere,
Somewhere to look back and ask,
Is the drum like the same drum?
Is the drummer like the same drummer in "Onibode Lalupon"?
This drum talks everywhere -home and abroad,
The digital drum that talks in the digital age,
The drum that changes from manual to electronic,
And makes its melody connects the other side of the Atlantic with the diaspora,
Can someone tell Toyin Falola to come here and say the secret of the drum
Hanging on his shoulder?
The drum that yields and make other drums and drummers to emerge.
Only the drummer can understand the language of the drum says the poet in reference.
Note: Spontaneously written -raw, awaiting re-cooking when NEPA brings the light again. Abela is scarce now.
-Bayo Omolola