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Ifeanyi Mar 2018
I roam the streets freely
With no fears or worries

Embracing each day
With nonchalance

Dancing with childish ease
To the buzzing voice
Of the morning traffic

With blank eyes you stare

Masking your bewilderment
Spitting in disgust

As you hurry off
To chase illusions

Whilst I move like the wind
Caring not for attachments
Or never ending pursuit
Of happiness

Romancing the uncertainty
Of unknown tomorrow
Yet you think I am mad

  

YOU THINK I AM MAD


I roam refuses for food
Feasting on your left over  
You think I am mad
With wide eyes you gaze
Upon me with derision
Masking your amusement
Often with a benign smile
Which slowly transcends to pity
The children serenade me
With songs of mockery
Whilst I dance unclad
Happiness I become
But you think I am mad

You dwell in your homes
While I lay in street corners
The night breeze lures me to sleep
We both wake at **** crow
On sunny days, you walk the streets
Clad in choking clothes
Your sunbaked faces
Trying to hide the wetness
Budding underneath your arms
I stand naked in the shade
Dangling my goods
You laugh at me
You think I am the one mad.
How would life be like from the perspective of a Lunatic (or madmen as we call them in Nigeria ;D)?
Me and a friend deliberated and decided to write on this on one of our random evening discussions. The second part was written by him.
Here they come
On their high horses
And white regalia
With the pretense to mourn
Long after we cried and wailed
For the blood that has stained our land
Long after we cried and wailed
For the blood that has stained our land
Drawn by the sword of their brethren
From the veins of our brethren

How deceptive...how audacious?
Their mockery of our pain
They never felt it
They only felt threatened
Because others came to give us succour
They didn’t come with balm for the wounded
And no bandages for the bleeding
They only came to see
How deep the wounds are?Are they deeper than the valley they seek to possess?

How deceptive...how audacious?
Their disdain of our sincere tears
They came with no tears
To shed for the buried dead
Neither did they come with handkerchief
To wipe away our tears
They came to see
If the graves are as they expected
And if not...how well to inflict more wounds
Even as we mourn
They are killing more

How deceptive...how audacious?
Their mockery of our sensitivity
Instead of sending the lion to roar
And chase the wolf away
They sent the cat to run
To where? I don’t know
The cat is been running
Yet the wolf is stilling killing
And the head of the pack
Is coming to see
How red the River Benue is

Edumoga is crying
Guma and Logo is still bleeding
Makurdi has not been spared from the flames
Nigeria is being deprived of herchildren daily
From Maiduguri to Adamawa
From Zamfara to Yobe
From Ekiti to Ogun
The Land is full of graves
From Southern Kaduna to Taraba
From Enugu to Delta
From Nasarawa to Benue
The land is bleeding red
And the stench of death is no longer offensive to perceive

When will this end?
When has the maiming of children?
And slaughtering of the pregnant
Become a culture of pride?
When has it become our culture?To protect the murderer
And accuse the victim?
The eyes that pretends not to see
When the vultures are plucking out its neighbours eyes
Should not forget that when they are done
They will come for his own.

Now what can I do?
I bear no guns
I carry no swords
But I still have my words
I will not cry only with my eyes
But I will cry with my pen
Until I **** this fear
This fear that wants to make me a slave
Until the peace be restored
Through the tears of a pen bearer.
Word Hobo Mar 2018
Seb's young fertile face beamed African royalty
even in the penury of this Nigerian refugee camp.
Her mother's downcast eyes shunned the camera's querying lens,
while Seb's, "I-love-you", eyes were welcoming.

Seb's eyes were as blossom-petaled obsidian pools,
each pierced by the light of a distant star.
Her blackness did not succumb to woeful displacement,
but shone with the promise of an overcoming spirit;
for a Mother's prayers were writ in the marrow of her bones.

Born with a tenacity to love,
her young heart leaped out through trusting inquisitive eyes.
Her tongue, budding out of rich dark faced soil, seemed eager
to taste the sweet juices that her spirited-eyes promised;
smiling, "l love you", behind barbed wired love-me-nots.

Seb was a child . . . full of joyful expectations.
A child who did not choose this world;
'tho born of a Spirit conceived to love . . .
to love the . . . hell . . . out from her world.


gv 4.2015  Word Hobo

~~~~~~

(Note: This piece came out of seeing this fascinating photograph
by Sebastian Rich,  of Seb clinging to her Mother in a camp for displaced Nigerians.)

Link to this Photo of Seb and her Mother:

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-04-26/infectious-and-innocent-smiles-from-war-zones/7355958

Scroll down to Ninth Photo
Caption  :  A Nigerian child in a UNICEF clinic, who was finally on the road to a full recovery after suffering from severe acute malnutrition. Her unprompted smile filled my lens.


I would encourage all to visit the website of Sebastian Rich.  His heart-gripping photography is incredibly moving and meaningful.

sabastianrichphotography.com.
Link to this Photo of Seb and her Mother:

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-04-26/infectious-and-innocent-smiles-from-war-zones/7355958

Scroll down to Ninth Photo
Caption  :  A Nigerian child in a UNICEF clinic, who was finally on the road to a full recovery after suffering from severe acute malnutrition. Her unprompted smile filled my lens.
Kuvar Jan 2018
Cattle’s rear by men
Ask for less yes grass and water
Fulani herdsmen in my country
Agitates for too much for their cattle’s  
Their taste for human blood
70 gallons the last they drank
And innocent yokes of unborn fetus
Sat there my over 70 president
His hand fastened to his chin
All he can do is chew his cud
And cows coup and cheerfully moo
If we all die who will eat their beef
I can smell the blood of my brother
Wasted on the map of Nigeria
Do you find rest in the Aso Rock
While many continue to die in cold blood

KUVAR
70 people were killed and all in the name of what does the world need to know cattles don't live in Castles.    It is painful that we live in a world of probleming solutions
in this world
the drums of scrap
steps leading
CIA man nodded
neutralize it.

"So we understand yes?"

"Fascinating."

massacre

Understood?
Saddam Hussein
On her next stopover in Basra
black-Nigel, came kissing?
Written from random pages in his novel.
Ifeanyi May 2017
Aggressive buzz of an alarm,
a new day is born.

Gentle touch of the morning breeze,
sending cold shivers up my spine.

Numb timid darkness, entangling with the golden rays of the sun.

And with such inharmonious beauty
comes a friend unfriendly – Time.


 My feeble bones arise, exhausted from its daily struggles.

An occupied mind strives for sanity, away from its daily bustle.

Clothes creatively decorated with patterns of odorous sweat.

My heart ladened with  problems and i'm not married yet.



A memory ******, nonchalant of such sacred hour.

A project overdue and an angry boss comes to limelight.

The walls reverberated with the sound of a sigh
and the words "na wa".

Amidst this chaotic subconscious,

more time

– is my only plight.


The End.

© 2015 - Ifeanyi.
"Na wa",
Also means "what the ****", in some places :)
uzzi obinna Dec 2016
The ashes of our loved ones are blown in the wind,
The blood of our siblings fill the streets,
Politicians we elected  rob us, with impunity,
Working tirelessly to reduce us to bits;

They **** our soldiers- our dearly beloved brothers,
Send them to a war which they themselves create,
They have underarmed the soldiers but arm the enemy,
Their callousness and negligence- we cannot underestimate;

Their is no one to speak for us- no one at all,
They sit in their noble seats lobbying for themselves,
They fill their homes with the resources of our people,
While these people are left with little to fend for themselves;

Our educational system has been brought to ruin,
Medical system is now in a deplorable state,
Fund looting is now the order of the day,
To impoverish my people even further is all they debate;

Our security operatives are those that **** us more,
Our hearts are always filled with fear when they come our way,
They maim and **** even when we protest for justice,
Who then should we run to when killers come our way?

The minority among us are disenfranchised,
Jobs belonging to our youths have been stolen away,
Those who create jobs for themseves earn too little to live by,
The pensions of pensioneers are hijacked day by day;

Our bills are on the increase while salaries remain the same,
The salaries of some are slashed day by day,
In the midst these difficulties is the firing of workers,
As wages become burdensome for companies to pay;

I pray that youths like me will open their eyes and see,
That all we have is ourselves not these enemies,
If this lesson is learnt we will quit fighting eachother,
And tolerate one another- finding ways to sustain peace;

Shall this oppression continue while we stand and watch?
No- we will rise and create a new era of representatives?
A people who will be elected from our very own,
People of our own generation to replace these theives.
This explains what Nigerians go through everyday in a nutshell.
Ovi-Odiete Oct 2016
A SOCIETY WRITTEN IN FLAMES; SHROUDED IN DARKNESS

The tears flows in an endless way
Bemoaning the days of yore
Watching with eyes that sparks red,
Sunken and beaten from the tragedies of yore
Helpless and wishing for a relentless call
As tragedy hits her most sensitive part,
Bemoaning the tides,
All her days of glory,
Now a shadowy story


She had been ***** by her very own,
The children she yearned and bled for,
The men she fed and trained,
Where her rain fell full and vast, to soothe their hearts
Where she gave it all, and smiled, hoping that someday, they will realize her sacrifices and sleepless nights,
Her nights of terror and horrors
Where she stood in the midst of the stormy eerie night, shrouded in darkness


It was her ******* they ****** and clunged to,
It was her arms that shielded them from the shadows of the dark,
But when they grew and flew,
She waited still
Praying and wishing they would remember the days of yore


Then the dark hour rolled away,
And when morning came, it was harrowing.
It was harrowing how she waited abandoned and dejected,
As her sons and daughters peaked at the sky,
Trampling her down,
Relegating and belittling her
Painful it were, as she cried from the agonies of the days of yore,
Where she laid all her virtues down,
Giving it all to see her children smile,


It is this dejection that has brought her to tears,
It is this wickedness of a child to a mother, that has made her weep endlessly
It is this tragedy that have swallowed her glory,
As her children keeps flying above huddles, in peace and harmony,
Forgetting her,
It is this callousness, that pushed them to sapping her virtues and enriching themselves with it thereon


What is worse than a child abandoning his mother?
It is this penchant, that drives them
It is the love of greed,
It is the seed of corruption,
It is not an inherited trait,
It is a despicable decision
Like a monstrous shadow,
Twirling the back of the night.
It is the fire that burns within their heart,
The fire to ****, steal and destroy
To take what she can never give again
To live,
To live big at the expenses of others sorrow and agony
It is this evil that has perused Nigeria and has rendered her a roaming wretch
And now tragedy looms,
It booms and blooms,

A society written in flames
Who will save MOTHER NIGERIA?


Ovi Odiete©* 2016, Oct. 31
All rights reserved

Note
Children here signifies the evil politicians and men that has sapped our country dry with their evil penchant
A society written in flames
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