The society rejected them.
They were ejected from their homes.

Disjointed hands.
Broken legs.
Pitiful faces.
Mournful silence ...
They cried and felt like crying again.
They cried again.
They yawned and felt like yawning again.
They yawned again.

They are the homeless children you are seeing here and there.
They are the hopeless old men and women you are seeing in the mornings and in the evenings.

No one cares to give them a chance to emerge on the surfaces of the earth and win more wins.

They are those beggars and street-boys.
They were long time ago mercilessly molested by the tryrans and their allies.

Today and tomorrow,
And the days, and the years, after tomorrow:
Let them find some places to rest.
Give them a place in your heart to find solace.

They have no sugar.
And they don't seem to have tasted its sweetness.

To drink tea,
They use a handful of their tears.
In lieu of a comb,
They use twigs.

They have no perfumed clothes.
Theirs are torn shirts and hats fumed by the vapour of a cooking ***.

To watch a movie,
They use a mirror.
Through it,
They see nothing than their faces.
They say mirror is their television.

The poignancy of poesy shaped their potentials.
Under the influence of the Poet, a plume spoke:

'I dream of a society where the less privileged ones will enjoy freedom and financial independence.'

With the above in mind, the less privileged ones would be considered as an integral part of the world.

They are capable yet they can do zellions of amazing things.
Give them chances to thrive.

Their yesterdays saw them famished.
They were once hopeless.
God blessed them.
Smiles of courage and hope illuminated their faces.
They were once neglected as well as segregated.
They need to be encouraged and supported.

On their education enough money should be invested.
To enable them learn skills and acquire sound knowledge needed for self-development and progress across the globe.

Adamu Danjuma

The inevitable return of the truth

One day the truth shall return.
It will appear evident for all
to know that
left and right are by far
not the same.

No accolades for you
for your seven good deeds
but abusive words for committing
against your will
three bad deeds.

You need not to worry.
because the truth has to return
on the surface of our hearts
for justice to be done
on the entirety of our lands.

Dear Nigeria,
Let me, at this juncture, pose my pen on the marble of innocent souls.
Let me, at this point, peruse the world of broken bones and listen, attentively, to the melody of lyre.
This poem is an elixir.
It has no beginning; it does chant the panacea to global pandemonium.
This poem is a remnant of Borno's corpes—
And that of other bleeding States.
This poem has no ending.
Its components were chosen from the archives of history.
This poem speaks of the civil war and the state of the nation, every now and then.
It does enunciate the heartfelt of the stars' constellation.
This poem is pregnant and, it won't go on maternity leave until the dogs in the neighbourhood stopped barking in my compound.
Until peace is restored on the entirety of the soil of our fatherland.
Until all roads are— without fear, anxiety and instability— usable by our travellers...
Until then, this poem will speak zillions to a layman.

A Life

Let's follow each other.
On Twitter.
Let's follow each other.

What can you handle?
What's your Twitter handle?

Let's follow each other.
My brother.
My sister.
Let's say one thing or another.

The season has changed.
We are here.
Dry Season is here.

In our midst I feel its presence.
The weather is nice.
It makes sense.
Dry Season comes with ice.

Guessing around the hills in solitude,
I realized the droughtiness of the soil.
I cleansed my body with olive oil.
I overheard the songs of a lovely bird from a high altitude.

Away from the constellation of the stars,
I saw the moon standing in jubilation.
My childhood memory came to visit me when I was reciting my morning meditation.
“Oh!, I said, let me go meet a planet called Mars.”

What a life!
Where is Niel Armstrong?
He traveled to the sky; he was strong.
Where is...?
He did that.
Where is...?
He did this.

Beautiful and ephemeral.
Is life.
Live it today: it is your era.
Such is life!

Adamu Danjuma