For,  against; for, against; for, against,
The tension in the air is thick with anxiety,
A date with destiny, set in palpable angst,
Many people with reasons as diverse as society;

To some it is time to pay back the man,
The very same one that did the same,
A decade back when things were much better,
That same oogle-eyed, bespectacled quiet gangster;

To others a means to let off steam,
In the direction of everything, anything,
Not awake, not even in a trance,
Just flowing with tide of vociferous war chanting,

And yet some others just belong one team,
Having a singular motive to cause disruption,
Believing in no other way to realise the dream,
Of a a group of people united by a decent nation;

In response, the government of the day,
Seem to have dropped their breaches to ankle,
Stumbling along with weird interventions without delay,
Ambling this way, that way, like a lost and drunken uncle;

Every where there are armed, cutely kitted security forces,
Many of whom were previously missing where the action is loudest,
You wonder whether these ones live a different reality?
Perhaps in an alternate universe where costs are cheapest?

It is barely twenty-four hours to march off,
The government side-eyeing a list of demands,
Drawn by a determined cross-section of delinquents,
It is all, now, or nothing, forever!

A few wealthy men,
Running around with power,
Laughing in the face of poverty,
Dressed in green and white and green;

A few powerful men,
Strutting around with fat wallets,
Sharing promises to the hopeless,
Allocating lies dressed in dishonesty;

A lot of angry people,
Hungry for something to believe in,
Never known a life of meaning,
Desperate for the chance of a lifetime.

Grinding, grinding, grinding,
Held by the hand of fate,
Around the dimming of faith,
When hope is difficult to operate in;

There is visible resistance at play,
The pestle strains, demands to be held tightly,
Unyielding stones protest vehemently,
Progress is hard, fine result ages away;

Everything is working in opposition,
Nothing is lending support in the other direction,
Many months after an emotionally charged election,
Very little is left to the imagination;

But something must give,
Now, or later,
The former, better,
All in, all in! Live!

I try, really I do,
Not to bring to mind,
That you are no more,
That I'll never see you again;

Your passive instructions guide me,
And the active one keep me going,
Your memory continues to ginger me!
All of which are clean, clear and unblemished.

At times like this I take solace,
In the cheer that you went away gallant,
Not wishing us any bother at all,
Strong, very strong, until the very end.

Sometimes the skies aren't bright,
And things seem not alright,
The misalignment of the stars,
And success held behind bars;

Then the sun shines again,
And we're not reminded of our pain,
Glory to the heavens!
For the renewal of the seasons!

Someplace, around the corner,
There, where my mind struggles,
Trying to make sense of it all,
Many questions remain unanswered;

I remember receiving that call,
Out of the blue on that fateful day,
They called out to you, severally,
But you had answered a higher one;

Not a day changes from sunrise to sundown,
That I do not reflect what could have been,
How thoae last minutes actually played through,
Where you in pain, or really felt nothing;

Rest on, my mother,
Friend to all,
Enemy to none,
A beautiful soul like no other.

everything becomes mercurial,
across the land tempers rage,
the king has made his declaration,
subject only to the gods of the land;

for when you fail to truly educate,
the mind absorbs whate'er it will,
discerning between intent and action,
is necessary for reaction or circumspection;

but here we are,
yet again, at the familiar crossroads,
to the right or to take a left about-face,
to kick evil in the rear or kiss the devil.

for many ran on fumes,
these few years,
living daily on hope,
and nothing else;

a great number wanted,
but the heavens never granted,
the privilege to see aturn in the tide,
to the dearly departed, sleep on;

and for the quick,
welcome to making history,
a rare opportunity to be amongst,
the countable, the reachable, the available;

whatever it is worth,
the next four can never be as darkly,
as the eight spent in vast backwardness,
time truly deserving to be forgotten;

but for the lessons learnt ,
nothing nostalgic of the cowtostrophic era,
every single element will get what is deserving,
karma always finds a way;

and for the hopeful many,
may your aspirations meet rapid improvements,
because today marks a departure from irreverence,
into days and nights of renewed hope.

Tragedy struck the day,
Death stole you away,
From our lives forever,
To see you, again, never;

But only in my dream,
Our conversations stream,
Yet they feel ever so unreal,
How, how will I deal?

Now seven years gone,
The sadness still weighs a tonne,
Try, and I do, to make light,
But see the tears I fight;

Sleep on dear father,
And say hell to our mother,
The days will be long,
Yes, as I try to stay strong.

The quiet, it shouts at me,
Can't stand the noiseless ringing,
So I turn up the melody, higher,
Then, I'm at peace, with the loud calming.

The ones that bore me,
They are now no more,
The rest by each other,
They look on, unaware;

The past few moons,
For me have been tempestuous,
Navigating economy subtleties,
Around the harshness of present realities;

Sometimes my heart protests,
Send me a-clutching,
Reminds me in no mean terms,
Each beat is to pampered and nurtured;

Looking around me,
Is there anything lacking,
Yes, certainly there are,
And of course plenty to be grateful for;

So, laying here with my thoughts,
The moonshine barely casting a shadow,
Ticking closer, every second by every minute,
Toward the hour of hearty returns.

A mother's love,
Who can comprehend?
Only the ones above,
And below, bounds know no end;

Greater for the male child,
Her son, in whom she takes pride,
Whether he be gentle, or wild,
Always standing by his side;

Not nearly different,
Even for her daughter,
Praying off the malevolent,
Wishing her warmth and laughter;

So, when her joys abound,
And they must follow their hearts,
She remembers her eternal bond,
Almost resists, tearfully, as new life starts.

Into this world came he,
This child, not wild, but beautiful,
The long awaited arrival,
Couldn't have ended any better;

Through the years, he grew,
Enough to see through dark patches,
And into a bearded youth, indebted,
To the graces of better offs;

Thus continued a struggle,
Between conscious good,
Or a pestering evil,
Contesting for time in the fore;

The fair kind caught his eye,
Stirred his inner workings,
His waist will dance to the rhythm,
Of one or two melodies of his choosing;

Responsibility came alongside,
Charged to forsake all else,
In the presence of know and unknown,
And none to make any objection;

In a few moons came tiny ones,
Spitting images of either ***,
Left to wonder how on earth,
One should be blessed, or  even at all?

Beaten by nature,
Beaten by fate,
Abandoned by the future,
Shackled by hate;

Everything against us,
Nothing works,
All conspire against us,
Nothing works;

Robbers gain entry,
Ransack our spaces,
With brazen effrontery,
Descecrate our ladies;

Kidnappers abduct us,
Demand huge ransome,
We sell the horse,
But ****, regardless the sum;

Terrorists massacre worshippers,
Leave trails of congealed blood,
Whole families in tatters,
Children cry, "why Lord?!"

Soldiers brutalise,
Intimidate and harass us,
Shoot with evident lies,
Then carry on without fuss;

The police betray truly,
Always hostile,
Never friendly,
Quick to open case file;

The government hate us,
From cradle to grave,
They rob us,
Then force us to behave;

The people, non wiser,
Mob and burn one another,
Rather than bond together,
They allow differences tear assunder.

What's the intent behind it,
Rushing off to set questions after eight moons?
But who's the devil here,
You or your paymasters?

This cycle of wickedness must stop,
Downing tools in protest of measely wages,
Extracting promissory notes after rolling weeks,
Only to subject frustrated young minds to ad-hoc examination?

The claim of sitting on ashes,
For days on end,
In favour of a more beautiful system,
May just be undone by this callous act;

If truly you desire a future workforce,
Better than the generations before,
Then act like you truly care,
Allow time to re-engage;

Cultivate their fallow minds,
Back to productive ways,
After all, what glory is there,
In being successful with mass failures?

All come to an end,
Every good,
Every bend,
The bad brood;

The pregnancies women carry,
Elephants and mice, too,
So, why worry,
And every time blue?

The magical love story,
Unbelievable romance,
Meteoric fame and glory,
That heartbreak, ******, messy and gory;

Eventually the king gives up his cause,
However long the queen might live,
Longevity eventually runs it course,
And another's the crown to receive.

Quite interesting that,
No political machinery,
Is pushing a different narrative,
Around elective positions;

Especially at the highest positions of,
Federal, state and local tiers of government in,
A horse race to secure power by any means, and,
To what end, really?

One backed by bullion war chests of,
Infinite origins or two of,
Rich origins that remain quite unclear and,
Three acclaimed to be extremely frugal;

Any side of the triangle appears to
Be propelled by ordinate ambition to,
Lord it over the living and the inanimate in,
Obstinate patriarchy to be the head and not the tail;

So, and not so surprisingly, still,
No political organisation in the running has,
Conceived the idea of a female candidate in,
The position of president or the vice, why?

Busy with primordial pernutations,
The entire land is in a heightened frenzy with,
Ethno dichotomy and religious bugaboo, both,
At the fore of national discourse, sadly;

So here we are, the woke and unwoke, all,
Pretending to be mute, deaf and unseeing in,
What evidently would have been the,
Icing on the national cake where a woman to emerge;

Why can't a woman be your running mate in,
This quest to change the miserable trajectory of,
Impending doom this contraption is headed for,
And a gender balance at the echelon of state power?

Whatever anyone says or doesn't say, now,
Nobody should be left any doubt whatever that,
As a people this geographical expression is not serious with,
The things that matter; like a female vee-***;

And until the national focus shifts toward the,
Preference for a female vice president or president, even,
Over religious or ethnic balance in pairing flag bearers then,
All and every attempt at anything, whatsoever,  remains, still, a huge J O K E.

Alarm goes off at three,
And the day, for me, begins.
As usual, the preliminary fixes,
Before the others come awake;

Quick check on my vitals,
Nothing seems out of place,
Satchet water, three? No, two,
Then a short visit to the loo;

By the time it chimes five 'o clock,
Cereals for the children and teeth brushed,
Then mommy runs them a warm bath,
And daddy packs the school lunches;

All of these appear routine,
But for us, a way of life,
Going on seven moons,
Simply, the joys of fatherhood;

But I digress, many pardons,
For today another year is added,
The heavens have been merciful,
And reflections are no pastime;

Serious matters become frequent,
Issues of the afterlife more apparent,
Leaving a legacy to be proud of,
And making it beyond midlife;

The Mrs, as usual, with pleasant surprises,
Makes the day more than ordinary,
Pulls all the impossile stops,
Leaving stress to look so secondary;

Going into the new year,
The first without Mom and Dad,
Makes me wonder in, future 'spect,
Now, life has surely begun.

The many, undeserving dead,
Deserve national outpouring,
Every single poor soul,
Cut untimely from fame or fortune;

No one soul is made more,
Is worthier than the other,
All came from the earth,
And it hath the last say;

So why demonstrate double standard,
Roaring silence when calamity comes afishing:
Abductions, medical neglect, ritual murders,
Innocent blood shed wantonly daily?

The transience of power is earth bound,
Only the heavens will forever stick around,
The sun rises on the day of reckoning,
Be prepared, oppressor, your time is nigh.

Pray that the sun rises in the east,
And pray, too, that the earth spins along its axis,
Make supplications that the moon shines at night,
And intercede on behalf of the many rats in the sewers;

Here we are, people of state,
Vagabonds in high places have come again,
Pulling the chord of our collective mentality,
Yanking the chain of our divisive idiosyncrasies;

For many, many seasons they have harvested,
Fruits borne by the motherland,
Furnished their illicit barns with treasures of state,
Fueled their desires with the blood of the children;

Yet a time comes when the seas will roar in tempestuous rage,
The four winds cry out in deafening anger,
Night and day both refuse to do their bidding,
The earth refuse to stomach the wickedness of their inhumane abominations;

Not too long, oh brethren,
The time is dearly nigh,
That the shackles of our backwardness,
Will turn into tools for our deserved happiness.

For long they had waited,
Many years for the patter,
Of little feet and joyful screams,
The morning seemed long from dawning;

Grandma never stopped praying,
Grandpa, too, as much a could be offered,
Then Grandpa left for the heavens,
Soon after, Grandma joined the celestial train;

Not long the news broke,
Adorable bundles of sweetness,
Sounded their cheerful arrivals,
In what remains the wonderment of several decades.

Every woody green is as the one before,
Going round in circles, roundabout,
She wanted to be the lead actor,
In a tale her character was written out.

It is white as far as the eyes can take,
Crunchy underfoot, sometimes hip deep,
What wouldn't she give for a warm steak,
And warmer place to rest and sleep.

The arid plains are unforgiving,
Lost among the dunes,
Each direction is endless nothing,
But the shimmers keep playing ghostly tunes.

She drifts atop the slimy waters,
Made bad by years of wickedness,
Clinging to flimsy rafters,
There is no escaping this watery wilderness.

Bedecked from head to foot,
Hungry looking tools of intimidation,
Unlettered in the doctrine of humanity,
Serving the whims of the wicked;

A show of farce,
Ridiculous aggression against the oppressed,
They conveniently look away from primary responsibility,
Only to brutalise the common demand for overall betterment.

Darkness,
Inflation,
Bigotry,
Nepotism;

Unemployment,
Terrorism,­
Kidnapping,
Medical tourism;

Miseducation,
Ethnic cleansing,
Mediocrity,
Tribalism;

Unease of doing business,
Multiple taxation,
Weak currency,
Egotism;

The shamelessness in high places,
The sycophancy along those corridors of power,
The visible aloofness to pressing needs among the masses,
The sheer policy of deliberate regional disempowerment;

Everything points to worse times,
Only the dead need not worry,
For the living, deafening chimes,
A worrying state of statelessness.

Nobody knows, will ever know,
Can only imagine,
The curves that life did throw,
And the response engine;

Live a day, or two,
In my emotions,
And try also, do,
Sleep with the commotions;

Then come close,
To even begin to believe,
That you share a dose,
Of the times that I live.

In bed, darkness, no power,
Bingeing on Supernatural,
Terrible pain around the lower lumbar,
Broke, not a single dime in my PayPal;

As my daughter lay sleeping beside me,
My son in the other room with his mother,
I suddenly am aware of the things I fail to see,
That truly I am blessed beyond any mundane bother;

But then again the morning brings its own worries,
My ageing mother afflicted by pain of her sister's loss,
Barely enough to save up for vacation stories,
And a country that does not care about us.

Everyone is hungry,
But no one is angry,
Choosing to embrace this life of suffering,
And all the time smiling.

On this day, it was a Sunday,
Just like any other day,
A lazy afternoon after morning service,
Day turned into night without notice;

I lost a dear friend that night,
With whom I earlier shared Christmas delight,
Cut down by a mad driver,
And never to bee seen again, never;

Many more would taste eternal transition,
The still dark murk welcoming them into oblivion,
Such was the terror of exploding ordinance,
The earth shook, hearts stopped, silencing all new year plans.

Beyond the gates of that year,
Consider the heavens played a part,
Be you lucky to have crossed,
A crossing quite significant into a new start;

Because not many will be there,
Not a few succumbed to our fears,
Of the sheer wickedness of the past,
Eight horrible years of blood and tears;

Whether it be a fortune,
Only time will indeed unfold,
For there's actually something here,
A better story waiting to be told.

And as we leave behind,
The past year in memoriam,
Dearly beloved, keep in mind,
There is no reason for alarm;

The times shall be kinder to you and yours,
In the most unexpected of places,
Ye, none of your labours,
Shall turn to ashes;

The new decade shall count up,
Unto moments of joy and laughter,
Yahweh's mercies shall not stop,
And his protection shall burn brighter;

Welcome, stride into twenty-twenty-one,
Keep hope well alive and kicking,
Despair? No, entertain none,
The heavens have got you, and don't stop believing.

The people have been plundered,
And their wealth wickedly squandered,
But the people have not the heart,
Even, to demand a little, for a start.

Should fear be,
The cornerstone of,
Religious persuasion,
And global confusion?

This one is around,
Just for the bread and butter,
The other kisses the ground,
And is more than a mother.

But you always did ******* away,
Now you want to ride shotgun,
Your fairness is not in your colour,
This I see as you lay, beautifully, beside me.

Some sense, maybe?
But to enslave generations?
Certainly should be in the options,
Old fool acting like a **** baby.

A spontaneous internal combustion,
Causing immediate unexplained confusion,
In all this hazy commotion,
You'd think it wasn't a contraption.

Hellish, lapping tongues,
Locking up every in its path,
The instrument of devil's wrath,
And creator of things awesome.

Destiny, she failed to smile,
As you sold me a wrenching lie,
Falling for your sweetened guile,
Absent between accursed thigh.

The hands moulded by fate,
But turned too late,
For destiny bear you no plan,
To flourish in my glorious clan.

To emerge victorious,
In the face of unrelenting adversity,
One need only constantly,
Continue to conquer self.

I would rather,
I stayed upright,
Than erupt in temptation,
Of momentary pleasure.

The wilderness beckons,
As I journey to be tempted,
By the curves of endless delightes,
Yet, only your love, keeps me grounded.

What influence has the created,
Over their creator?
If you were hired,
Then you can be fired.

If goodly people were,
To turn to evil work,
Then nothing ought to stand,
In the way of evil lending to good.

Knowing that people expect,
You to fail should but only,
Spur you to earn pleasing respect,
And shock then into eternal shame, truly.

Yes, you took away our gem,
In such manner, quote gruesome,
With us, this star was awesome,
But you cut short the life's term;

No, you didn't act alone,
Couldn't have been a coincidence,
The accident was as pretence,
To cover up what they had done.

A teaspoon of doubt,
And a tablespoon of suspicion,
A generous amount of affection,
And a truckload of loyalty.