"biafra" poems
Match, match forward and go, you heroic sons of America
Reconnoiter into the strongholds of boko haram,
And restore our captive girls from the foul custody,
Lawlessly held hostage by the connoisseurs of terror,
Go on and recover poor souls from ribald of religion
Impishly created by Moslem from the satanic verses,
Regulating foray of terror on the poor of the poor
****** mahyeming, looting and executing massacres,
Match on and on yee angels of democracy,
Don’t stop in any haste or in any wonder,
To help in the sham flabbergastations,
About the Igbos who fought the Biafra,
And the Yorubas who federally defended,
Under the aegis of Obasanjo the Sandhurst
General, where are they all to save the girls
Of Nigeria from the Islamist terror
Excuted by boko haram the handmaid of evil.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
You at least went.
so that meant the party could finally be awkward.
that's homeroom
at your personal Harvard
your low self esteem was the head dean
[ claimed you had promise ]
then promptly vomits
but you promised to maim
your lollipops with hot topic's
most goth night-shade of hemlock
iron-on, henna tattoos
for your thin lips.
like two gates
to a birdcage
where you keep
ravens...
pecking the tip of your tongue
where your brave words die
for lack of oxygen... pecking
the flesh off the skeleton key
to the heart of your insightful
comment,... stymied -
a black raven
savors the succulent eyes
of your hurricanes, so
braille maps for blind rage
fly off the shelves... fly like
led zeppelins to
fresh hell.
you lose your window seat
on the wing of a prayer
to Charles Bukowski.
now you're scowling a gilded smile
at all the Ed Hardlys'...
good thing you brought Jello Biafra Shots
to the shindig... cubes of gelatinous absinthe
each with a sugar box
lodged in supermax insecurity prisms...
fey emeralds.
monochrome rubicons
you pop
when cross.
like wainscoting the panic room
that came with a deejay
who thinks you're
a boy who got
lost.
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 7:10 AM UTC
His kalenjin tribesmen planned for tribal wars to cleanse kikuyus and luhyias
From the their lands, planned out of tribal sadism,
He was fully aware, as he understood the kalenjin coded language of war
And preparation for war, war of the years 2007 and 2008,
He did not give any holy bishopric **** to save his non indigenous folks
The people to be killed and tribally cleansed were the members
Of his catholic church in the dioceses of Eldoret,
The ones to **** were his kalenjin tribesmen,
But bishop korir could not counsel nor forewarn,
He did not give out any peace focused advice
That a catholic should not **** a catholic
Because of politics or worldliness,
Instead he gave respect to his tribal sentimentality
He behaved as a kalenjin first then a catholic later,
A spiritual paradox of the century,
Only equated in the Biafra tribal sentimentality between igbos and yorubas
Redolent of European ****** or the American ku Klux ****
But after all the non kalenjin Catholics from his dioceses
Had been killed, burned up in the church, ***** up
Homoerotically perhaps in the madness of tribal scorn,
That they now became refugees in their own country; Kenya
And then solemnly condemned to the refugee camps,
Is when Bishop korir Cornelius came out of his tribal kernel
With vices of a kipskiss sadist , holy rosary in his hand,
Singing an out dated poem of Hail Mary the ******
Mother of Jesus Christ to them, the IDPS,
He then promoted a priest from his tribe,
The one kimengich up the hegemonic altar to become
The bishop of Lodwar from where they loot
The illiterate turkana catholic peasants their relief foods,
And even jobs, and clothes, only to give to those who are not needy,
To the kalenjin who are not even catholic nor marginalized, some even Moslem,
All these happens in the sweetness of tribal syndrome,
A social disease which the holy sacrament of the catholic faith
Have not and never will heal Bishop Cornelius korir.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 9:28 AM UTC
In haste...
Behind
Our footprints
Were the scattered emptiness
Of the memories
Of them
On the shores
She left the three parties of us
Me, Samantha
And our traveler friend
They were play things for sunset fares,
She said.
Just yesterday
They were happy to be here
The young flowers now scattered about
This beach shore
Too young to be plucked
Happy to grow up into one party of laughter!
That's how we remember they were here
That's how to plant graveside flowers
For the dead
They were play things for sunset fares
They were not soldiers
They were unprotected, unfed, afraid children and women.
They were not warriors
That's how to plant graveside flowers
That's how we have kept them forever
In our hearts..
You are not forgotten
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 11:53 AM UTC
This is dedicated to the millions who died in the Biafra - Nigeria civil war
Counting the losses
Of my people at dawn
Breaking the curses
Of no wholly source
I sought to wage war
Without funds and money
I thought to secede
From a nation strong and many
I was full of envy for vain minorities
I am an educated soldier
Of an eastern defunct border
Proclaiming Biafra
Was so big an agenda
Building militias
To **** and to tether
My opposed tribal brothers
And the critics of my powers
I denied much on media
All that hid in my fingers
My plans I held higher
The proclamation of Biafra
I am an educated soldier
Of an eastern defunct border
Visible to the blind
Were were ready for a fight
Audible to the deaf
Huge price of war to pay
Hausas killed in numbers
By my igbo sons and daughters
yorubas were driven without boots
by my fellow Biafran youths
Ibibios were suspicious
So were Urhobos, Itsekiris and Ijaws
Enmity was at its peak
So high that none could breach
All these were my agenda
My services to Biafra
Was so good for me to render
On May 30th 1967
Was just like a fable
I declared in the open
Without even a wobble
The state of Biafra
Almost complete; an agenda
An anthem was composed
Flag and currency; none could oppose
The heat of the tension
Is such I couldn't mention
The height of jubilation
Not all did it favor
There was sorrow in the land
This, I cared not apart
I was a symbol in the world
For the havoc I did cause
I am an educated soldier
Of an eastern defunct border
The war began
With no money at hand
We fought with pride
With pains in our hands
We fought with might
Defending our father's land
We died in mass
Numbers of air attacks
We killed civilians
Of the tribes against our plan
We'd shoot in the heart
Every oppose we'd catch
Nigerians were too strong
but we swore we'd burn
I saw no flaw
In the havoc I did cause
I am an educated soldier
Of an eastern defunct border
Hunger and thirst
Was order of the day
Sorrow was a pest
and death had no end
Too many burdens to bear
The pains of war to pay
We ran out of guns
Bullets, grenades, even bombs
We had but matchets
Arrows, stones and spears
But We faced an army
Of full artillery
Our tragedy had no end
Even God couldn't help
So our homicide was cast
And We became fossils at last
Let those who seek war; stop and think
The pains of it;higher than that of peace
So I e'caped in a copter
Leaving my people to suffer
So on exile I did ponder
while millions died in yonder
I am an educated soldier
Of an eastern defunct border
I write from the grave
From the hell of my pains
I was that educated soldier
Who took you to battle borders
And ran, leaving you to suffer
I was that educated soldier
Of an eastern defunct border.
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 9:00 PM UTC
I cried when Barack Obama left office, and I cried for Joe Biden too, as though I'd lost parents of mine,
But Mike Brown and the others had it coming, they were probably resisting arrest,
So love me, love me love me, I'm a liberal
I go to pro choice rallies and I chant about female anatomy,
I retweeted a #blacklivesmatter tweet once, I think that's just as good as a protest
But don't talk about revolution, that's going a little bit too far
So love me, love me love me, I'm a liberal
I cheered Bernie on the whole way, but eventually settled on Clinton,
I would do anything for free healthcare and education, as long as my taxes aren't too much more
I love all the minorities too, as long as they don't move next door
So love me, love me love me, I'm a liberal
The people who voted for Trump, should all hang their heads in shame,
I can't understand where they're at, John Oliver should set them straight
But if you burn an American flag, I hope the cops take down your name
So love me, love me love me I'm a liberal
I read Huffington Post, and Rolling Stone too,
If I vote it's a Democrat with a sensible economic view,
But when it comes to rioters in the streets punching nazis, there's no one more red white and blue
So love me, love me love me, I'm a liberal
Once I was young and my heart bleeding, I bought every Coexist bumper sticker I saw,
Even marched alongside the socialists, thought I could bring the system down with the power of love,
But I've grown older and wiser, and that's why I'm turning you in
So love me, love me love me, I'm a liberal
Love me, love me love me, I'm a liberal
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 5:09 AM UTC
At the Biafran front, I fought
Tearing down Nigerians
With shots of guns
We fought like men
Defending our lands
But with risk and fear
As some went blind
Among our troops
Were hatred and envy
Tribalism of doom
Had taken over our army.
Alongside my brother
We triggered together
Tearing down men
Like pales of feathers.
As a boy of sixteen
I saw terror in fifteen
Behold dead men lay like weeds
Vultures had enough to feed
Among the dead people
I saw my old father, he died still feeble.
Turning to my right
Lay my mother, sister at flight
My hands became weak
And my heart did bleed
They were killed by the army
Which I fought that they live.
Biafra was in famine
As children starved to death
A thousand Igbos massacred at night
As our troops retreat to die.
Nigeria flew their jets
Bombing no one but children and old women
A grenade caught my brother
And I knew it all be over.
The seaways were surrounded
Nigerian Navy locked us in our grave
No weapon came to Biafra
Even our camouflage had become rags
Enugu; capital of Biafra had been captured
There's nothing left, except to be raptured.
Oron and Calabar fell
Nigeria sent us hell
So in battle front we had
Nothing more than matchets and planks
Our major had ran
And we were left, to die at our hands.
With fear, my fellows fell
The fear of death, none could tell
I ran through the forest
Finding way for my escape
Lo there was a tunnel
And so I escaped Colonels.
Fifty thousand fighters quite survived it
They were buried alive
In mass graves for their deeds.
Down in my tunnel of sleep
I saw my family in the deep
Papa, I called aloud my father
He said go for the war is over.
Biafra had surrendered
But I had lost an arm
Millions had died
Diseases did bade them bye
The war, famine did sail them high
Though a soldier I survived.
I had lost my home family and lineage.
What would I do with a withered arm?
Flies had really fed it by
As the last man alive, No one cared whether I die.
So I died a lonely death
With no one to cry
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 9:20 PM UTC
I am Biafra!
Though the world denies this truth
let them their eyes pluck out
or betterstill brave the raging sea
for where i come from
am undeniably proud of
ask the rising sun if you must
or betterstill ask Amadioha
for i am Biafra now
in another life i will be
four decades ago you had us slaughtered
and you caged us in our own land
selling our oils and gold
and you killed us while America watched, and Britain fed you arms
now you pray for peace and prosperity
forgetting in a hurry your darkness and curses
Away with you now
For i am Biafra and we never forget
See now how slowly the sun rises
or are you blind now?
Scoop the blood you spilled
be intoxicated by it
run as far as you can
for even the worst draws near
you will never see peace
until your every coin you owe you pay
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 1:42 AM UTC
Dear corrupt country
Giant of all African countries
International debtors
Global investors
The nation I love so dear
The kid on street you allowed suffer
Hereby presents you a hate offer
Spire Biafra o! You zoo
Britain et tu
That should encourage freedom
The undiscovered Poet you wants dead
For trying restoring a freedom dead
Lives till now and also healthy
Though he is not a bite wealthy
His life he loves so dear
The stone you cared not for
Others seek for
That little boy you rejected
You he have ultimatly rejected
For of no good are you to him
Shame is mine being your child
I quite being your ward
If I am
And I shout it loud as an alarm
To the human right restrictioner
Stop my breath if you can
For history I know can
Never dream of forgetting me
Nor poems written by me
For one or two must stand
Dear corrupt country
I quite being your ward
If I am.
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 6:18 AM UTC
Blue Apple
Thinking About You
Even Now
Make me Turn a Holy Shade
Of The Forbidden Fruit
After All
What Am I doing
Wondering
About You
Might Just Be My Prince
So I Have to Ask
Are You Just a Pixel on a Screen
Or a OMan made of Flesh and Bone
My Touch Your Prayer
Your Strength
My Release
Love's Wisdom
All the Barriers Removed
Yes
You Are My Blue Apple
A Dream
A Fantasy
An Advertisement
Lunch?
Biafra Falls, Or Bangkok....
Sep 12, 2016
Sep 12, 2016 at 8:13 PM UTC
A church door's just another war to wage
Prolong the propaganda
volunteer
go to Rwanda
and see the truth that's written on the trees
see hard bitten soldiers cry
catch a famine in somewhere like Biafra
and watch as children die.
It's a lie to believe
and declarations make
me seethe
Your time is much too valuable to give it up in prayer
see it for yourself
if god was ever good
he isn't anymore
In fact he isn't there
I think he swanned off to the Caribbean with a companion
who we'll call Peter for convenience
and I'm not thinking of suggesting anything
that's
If there's anything or nothing to think about.
My prophets catch ferrets
wear flat caps
set rat traps,
There's
not much to pick and choose of them
but they're real men and not paintings in chapels
or pictures in galleries
I don't begrudge Luther his truth,
you see you have to see the other point of view
but it doesn't follow that you'll change yours.
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 12:57 PM UTC
A lofty ship is spotted far out at sea.
It looms in the pellucid distance,
a maroon and grey colored
vision of possibility.
I imagine scores and scores of packets of rice
held tightly together like sandcastles,
eager to be used and washed and boiled
And buttered and lightly salted.
Or heavy machinery assembled by
Weary and jealous hands
that wish they weren't so obedient
That too wish they were strong enough
To attempt the buoyant dance of exile.
As the Atlantic Ocean belches muscular waves
that melt like smoke ash at my toes,
another vision gathers at the horizon.
A seacraft is maundering,
It croaks its dissatisfaction as
Limbs knitted together like
Unruly ***** poke into every crevice.
Bight of Biafra’s children have been cloven.
The salty spring of the water mixed with
The rust of *** dried sweat and lifeless bodies
Makes for a particular entrance to the Caribbean Sea
This is life now.
Nothing sweet or nice about this.
Port Royal is not far off and she’s
Eyeing the new load of hesitant visitors
Tasked with tilling her soil and harvesting her sugar
She sighs with them.
Aug 31, 2025
Aug 31, 2025 at 1:02 PM UTC
"I've got a plan"
"No I've got a Plan"
"No Me Me"
Each Droplet of Water
Throwing Itself
Over The Edge of Creation
Volunteer
For a Greater Knowing
Follow
Or Get out
Some Say
Lead and Do
And the Band
Plays on.....
Angels Wings
All, a flutter
And Here Gods Life
Sets Free the Beautiful
Sugars in the Maple Tree
Her Life Unerring Rarity
For Its Love
That Provides
The Clarity
Jul 21, 2016
Jul 21, 2016 at 8:59 AM UTC
O Africa delight in blissful glory
You alone mutate many colors
Your kindred bears in their skin
Only you possess this divine qualities
O Africa your voice will be lost without Nigeria
For her giant strides is comparable to none
Her waxing human resources
Is a straw to light up abundant natural resources
O Africa if Nigeria divide
Your voice become unheard
For it will be a festival of no guest
And the biscuit bone of aid will be no more
O Biafra agitators nature wants freedom
But the world makes us a voiceless being
Do you think you will be heard in the comity of nations ?
O Sudan tears of regrets ran-deep
For they are victim of circumstances
O Nigeria wield your marginal division
And beat your drums across vast water and land
Rising your voice to defend Africa qualities
O Africa your fate I fear as I envision
And heard from minstrel lute of God
So I pass my little words across
Nigeria a land that embraces all
Written by
Martin Ijir
Jun 13, 2017
Jun 13, 2017 at 2:50 AM UTC
Yesterday, When the world was young
and the earth was still beautiful.
When happy day was nature's song
and the devil was still merciful.
Yesterday, way before the computer
and the inception of the internet.
That was before Jedi and skywalker,
eons before Elizabeth and Phillip met.
Before the information highway
and way before social media.
Before the first play on Broadway,
and the Biafra war in Nigeria.
Yesterday, before we lost focus
and mankind got infected with the very addictive FB virus.
Yesterday, before Twitter was created.
Yesterday was only time and space.
It was the time that God realized
that the earth was a very sad place.
God's plan was not yet finalized.
#IBpoetry©
8-2-20
Feb 9, 2020
Feb 9, 2020 at 1:13 AM UTC
Hope Above Dark.
Shadows too weak to walk or stand Words too weak to be understood light are nothing but light our world as dark as night even in the light
All poor, rich and poor man can sing to butter fly no more lost, maplees and boor
celebration of life is all we have they say when there is life there is hope well hope a good thing .
The last friend of man sometime, most time where art thou well we salute you, I salute you through world war I, world war II, the civil wars and capitalism you seem to exist.
Where are you now? Suru your sister was constant with us like you. For over one hundred years she lives. But not long
Biafra is coming once more. Militants in creeks to aid her Bokoharam is here
Who are you? Giant of Africa they call you. The air tells me you are the stone of the savannah. Brother and sister, imporvished or bewealthed pray cause that all we can, for a generation with a soul under this diamond sky we live .
# peterpraise
TN entertainment.
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 6:11 AM UTC
Have you seen kenya & Malawi??
Nigeria is worst
never should anybody say
we are the giant of Africa
it's a lie , the truth is
we are all failures
Thinking that
we actually succeeded
After independent
it's wrong and we know.
Living only for our pockets,
and
stealing from Nigeria
it's all we try to do
mutual respect, love and peace
will never be
divided
Nigerians
biafra are fighting
fulani herdmen are killing
bokoharam are kidnapping
our country is a war zone.
{NOW READ BOTTOM TO TOP}
.
{c}Joseph.udo
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 10:19 AM UTC
Sometimes I forget that I am
me,
my memory is made up of affectionate toothpaste ads
of the past three decades.
On occasions I think I’m John Lennon
returning his CBE
over to that Biafra thing.
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 7:40 AM UTC
They have provoked her
The giant of Africa
When you stir the bees nest
You must be ready to dance
On the Cobra's tail they stepped
Does actions not beget re-actions?
In a sane society
Where human lives are treasured
Shall we continue like this?
Whose score is it to settle?
Do you want us to count scores?
This is not a battle you can win
Who cursed Africa?
Is this the Africa our fore-fathers fought for?
What really is xenophobia
Brother killing Brothers
But they forgot in a hurry
Are these the people we redeemed?
When a pride of lions are led by a Sheep
This is what you get in return
Disregard for human lives
Until their family is victimised
They enjoy in affluence
While we all suffer in abject penury
I have seen Tigers escape from Buffaloes
They stood as one indivisible entity
To defend their territory
Because enough is enough
We are a people of patience
But don't test the power of Naija
Take the battle to your leaders
Not to fellow Africans
Ask them about their electoral promises
Go to school and get a life
Acquire skills and stay empowered
You've got one more shot at peace
Go back to your history books
Read of our exploits during the world war
Google our feats in Liberia
Have you heard about the spirit of Biafra?
That spirit still lives
The one that makes us stronger as one
Sheathe your swords of xenophobia
"Naija no dey carry last"
I hear the drums of war already
But until the beagle sounds
You have one last chance at peace
Take it, before it's off the table
To our leaders and politicians
Shame on you all
Our blood means nothing to you
Our brothers are sent to Valhala
The house of the Odin God
Our sisters ***** and maimed
Shame on you and your generation
And to you the ignorant fool
You **** your fellow Africans
Forgetting we are all flesh and blood
We share the same ancestors and lineage
This is not the Africa Madiba fought for
Shame on you all!
My fellow Nigerians
I come to you in peace
Let us explore diplomacy
They want to turn us against ourselves
Will we allow them?
"Biko, were Ndidi..."
My hands quiver as I write
My pen drips blood
I fear for my generation yet unborn
I see a revolution brewing
But let us go back to HIM
HE is the God of instant judgmen
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 7:09 PM UTC