Edutainment House

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It's true that every literary incarnation was once a deviation from existing literary tradition, and tradition is always a product of society. A literary practice, therefore, becomes a tradition when the society which has given birth to it appreciates or embraces it.

Like every other form of art, literature is a reflection of society, and it's no longer news that 21st Century is an age of insane evolution. But can 21st Century literary artists create art forms that marry the insanely evolutionary world in which they live? Yes, they can, but that won't be possible without you, the society, embracing their creations.

Come 30th September, 2022 the Kangaroo Theatre shall unveil what it calls "THE PIPER'S CONCOCTION", an usual mixture of literary arts and acts, designed for online/social media viewing, which will be streamed every Friday in short episodic clips.

We are confident that this incarnation can birth a tradition if you, reading this post, be a part of the adventure and join in the experience when the ship finally begins to sail.

But while we wait for 30th September to catwalk its way down, we can start the journey somewhere today; by liking this page or Kangaroo Theatre so you'd be abreast with all its new information, or by sharing this flier on your platforms or with someone who may also share with someone, or by supporting the project in any way you can, or by using your capacity/connection to recommend it to that organisation, company or man/woman of goodwill for sponsorship.

Whichever you choose, however it comes, we will be grateful and will remain grateful to you.

Thank you! Thank you!! Thank you!!!
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😍
'sConcoction😍
😍

INTRODUCING

Join us on Friday 1st July, 2022 and as we bring Thirty Pieces of Silver live on stage . Thank you Rivers State Council for Arts and Culture for this show of love.

2023

While the old will be busy asking social benefits
To lie down in their green bank accounts
The young will be busy asking one another:
"Can you be my pizza if I be your sharwama?"

While the old will be busy taking the bull by the horn
Just to stand and remain tall
The young will be busy cutting off the head of the bull
Just to smoke ice and take tramadol

While the old will be busy telling a nation's treasury:
"I can't wait to suck you dry"
The young will be busy telling their coat of arms
"Coaty, I can't wait to be in your arms"

While the old will be busy shopping
And counting their blessings with stolen funds
The young will be busy pHoToShOpPiNg
And counting Facebook likes with borrowed data

While the old will be busy schooling themselves
In the sharing of national cake
The young will be busy saying school na scam

While the old will be busy chasing the young Saying "Bingo, you're not too young to run"
The young will be busy body-guarding the old
Saying "Ogre, you're not too old to rule"
# # #

I heard you prepared some plates of Ogoni garri and maalo kebe. Can I visit you today?
🤓🤓🤓

Choose your OWN race
Yours may be different from theirs
Know when to be swift
And when to go slow
Slow and steady can never win a relay.

NOTE1

There's something about this thing called love I haven't told you, Lesiwa

Love is a pearl anyone
would want
To girdle around the waist
And flaunt even at the marketplace

Lesiwa,
A man may tell you love irritates him
But here and there he carries it like an only child
He would dare not bequeath to any kin,
Next of or beside him

A woman will tell you
“I do not hunger for that s**t called love”
But you see, Lesiwa,
“I’m not hungry” is only a food of consolation
Eaten by those who couldn’t partake in the sharing of yam

Lesiwa,
True love is a mixture of sun and dew
It brightens the face and freshens the skin
It serves the heart from a consecrated ware
And calms the yearning throat with water drawn from heaven
It makes the day bright, and the morning it keeps tender
Love is a harmless storm, full of energy
A storm even the mermaid cannot quieten

Lesiwa,
When a woman wears the fragrance of pure love
She gets doped by its overpowering appealingness
That dope was all over me, Lesiwa
Until I lost everything to the wind

Lesiwa,
His father’s home was on the East of the town
So each morning, passing by my house,
The sun stopped by to peep, and to taunt me
With the picture of everything I was running away from
The picture of the pearl l lost to the wind

I have had many an experience as to know
That a greater portion of this evil called conspiracy
Is committed by God and Satan
And their corruptible client called man
But this Trinity evil, Lesiwa,
Has never taught a woman so hard a lesson
As to make her longer night and day
For the things she willingly vomited;
For the things she punted her womanhood saying:
“It is over my dead body”
What other scene grieves the eye more
Than seeing a dog return to its own puke?

Lesiwa,
You have been asking me the devil that came over me
Do not accuse the devil, Lesiwa
If any devil did attend that meeting
It was my own fear that represented him
I have spent a long time in love’s school
I have learnt that when the fruit of love
Takes too many days to ripe
The hand that sows it never lives to reap
I was afraid his was taking too long
I was afraid of going home empty handed
I was afraid of being called the loser
It was in that fear I lost everything, Lesiwa

An adulterous man is like the windstorm
He knows how to pluck the hardest fruit off any tree
His presence sways any woman out of her self
In his eyes you find every woman’s dream
But down his heart, all you see is her nightmare...

(To be continued)

She lost her virginity
When in possessed blindness
She was forced to naked herself
Before sons of unknown fathers

Her name is Africa
And I am her unwanted son
Maybe you too.

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