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Shadows on the wall,
what was short was tall.
And then darkest night falls.
Nothing would stop the deformed dolls.

Pure evil engaging in blood writings.
So cold and bold that it causes the bats to be frightened.
Dogs in closed cages are howling.
Fear leaves humans embracing.

Then, it came, the noise pause
to reveal horror's sentence was a clause.
The knife instead of a flash light was all i could toss.

A pat on my shoulder
and i turned around.
Drooping saliva,
sick eyes,
***** clothes
and abnormal physique.
I prepared to scream
then i woke on my laptop's keyboard
only to see the movie subtitle that says:
"Curtains Closed"
Gallus Gallus Domesticus
Uncourageous Uncourageous Coward-"icus"
These are the people we believe to possess high ideals.

So elite and luxurious,
so stainless and luscious.
All dressed in designers
with adorners.

Boundless extravagance
inspite our disacceptance,
yet in the face of danger
they would be the first to disappear.
But then, who are we to judge others
when we would equally do the same.

Out here,
in this place,
Its everyman or woman
for himself or herself.
Its you and i, all by ourself.
I was about eight
and i could speak three
Nigerian languages,
especially pidgin.
Every sunday, i recall, my mother
would bless my stomach with nicely cooked native dishes.
Then, the Nigerian
football matches in the evening with my father was a sight too exhilarating to miss.

My school years was eventful
has i received a whole lot of flogging.
The only clothings i had
asides undergarments
were all native attires.
Some admired it, Others didnt.
I honestly was not bothered.

Now, i'm serving my country
in the army, which frankly is fulfilling for me.
No matter how bad Nigeria gets,
i'll always be proud of it.
Write a few lines,
you've gotta be proud of your country
From the dust of your feet
to the rough of your hair,
everything,
i'm loving it.
All of it.

The scars and spots on your skin,
just like small glittering stones
mesmerized by the beautiful rays of the sun.

The very sweat you perspire,
just like the sea,
its so visible
as i take one long refreshing look
at the back of your shirt

Your fierce care
and fiery concern
erupts the very base
of my throat.

Your Quarrels with me
vibrates the dancing monster
in my eyes and tongue.

Everytime we make up,
its like a slow whistling wind
coupling with the flowers.

Before every treasure i know of
in this world,
it is you.
Its in the flesh,
deep in the gut.
Its like an unending drive.
Lust, it is lexically called.
A sweet experience
like a rosemary flower.

Its so right there
in its tight rare.
Hungry lions
and angry turn-ons
commanding its blooded engine.

So short a time
is the time of this thing
as it over-uses
and declines the pleasure in this thing.

An important impatience
is its true self
as well as its coated serpent's tongue.
Habitual wild chunking
occupying this tasteless penance.
They hailed
and prostrated on the dust
as the monstrous jeeps passed.

Chants of praises
in loud native phrases
all for one man with deep pockets.

White man would look and say,
" Africans "
Black man would look, smile
and shake his head.

We say Nigeria is distressed
We say there is no money
We say all our leaders should face the firing squad
We say alot of things.

Churches are increasing,
Spiritual leaders are prophesizing,
Intellectuals are holding conferences,
Analylists are investigating,
Ministers are budjeting
and yet nothing is changed.
Still that black man on
the presidential seat wants
a second term.
Another term of nothingness.

I know everyone deserves
a second chance,
but ruling Nigeria
isnt a dice game.
We are in a state of nature
where every man is a danger
to the next.
Even body parts can not be guaranteed
to remain in one piece,
even in death
because of these ritual get-rich quick individuals.

Just like a mathematical equation,
Nigeria's solution
is " no solution ".
But, because there is no answer
doesnt mean it can not be solved at all.

I would not be the first to write about Nigeria
nor will i be the last,
but let history record
that at least i verbally cared.
I remember
she said she remembers
when her thighs were bigger
and her tummy flatter.

She said
all things admired her.

I remember
she said she remembers
when her phone rang every hour
and her bag filled with fresh flower.

She said
all girls wanted to be like her.

I remember
she said she remembers
when her clothes were swanky
and her account bulky.

She said
all airs revered her strongly scented perfume.

Now,
with a kid strapped to her back
and another clinging to her neck
she wonders how this life came about her direction.
Married to this lanky bus driver
felt so different,
like a bad fever.

Was it her
or her dream?
Too much talk
made the others mock.

Lies aren't all they are,
they are much more.
One lie for every fantasy.
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