Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Peter Praise Mar 2016
Innocent chibok
Oh chibok our chibok
You were to be one of the light that takes us out of this darkness
We stand
Innocent to our Creator you are

You were just been cooked
We never got to get a taste
When I asked you
Voices tell me
They came in trucks before twilight
Guns in hand  
knifes of unequal standard
You had no choice but to follow
your protectors ran far when they should have given their lives for you
For a month your name was I the air like air on every lips in every media
The international community lend a hand, we showed negligence
Where are you FG,
Where were you
There is God oooo
Over two hundred flesh and blood  missing

Two years now, we will get them back, is all we have.
My Nigeria if right under your nosie
Chibok went underworld
What is next, look hard not and see the ups and down around you
Is home safe ?
Idiong Divine Mar 2020
In Chibok,
An IED finds it way
Into the mind of a savage sect
And made good use of the emptiness therein.

In helplessness,
Some school girls are bundled up
From their school compound;
Taken for a noisy ride into Sambisa;
From where they will forget
Their mothers’ voices.

On the tube,
There is a very loud lady
Anathematising the “sharing” of blood
In Borno.

When she is done,
The media is awash with the sound of
‘Na only you waka come?’

As if it is a joke
To ****** young Nigerian girls
From the four walls of their classroom
Into the coldness of the wilderness
To dwell amongst wild beasts.
To learn new lessons;
Weird lessons.

In bed at night,
My wife talks of
Church bombings;
Internally displaced persons;



Slaughtering of citizens
And the role of government in all of these
And the security of our country
And I pulled at the hairs
From around her second mouth
To make her change the topic
And she falls for it and changes the topic.

The white bearded Mallam
On the rickety bus to Yola
Fixes his eyes on me
Like some foreigner
And I feel the fire
All through the trip
And I burn and burn and burn
Like the victims of Nyanya motor park blast
It feels good though to know
What it takes to
Be burned into countless degrees.

But after three weeks
I am back to normal again
I can feel again
My senses are back again
Working optimally
And I can hear again
As the presidential pit-bull
And the black parrot
The one that used to be
In the fourth estate of the realm
Begin to mete and dole out
Slippery speeches, speeches you can’t hold
That comes upon our ears
To push out every substance
From our heads


Everything except this load of hopelessness

This bitter bile in our mouth
This unwanted fetus
That no one would claim

And then the hash tags;
The media craze;
The count down
The women in red
And the men that joined
The bring back our girls
The Michelle Obama
The celebrities from across
The noise, the sweat, the blood
The ****** thighs of those girls
Their torn underwear
Their wails, their sobs, their pains
To say the least
The echo, the deafening echo
And how we wave them all aside
And look the other way.
Like it did not happen at all
Like it was just a movie
Directed by a director
That must be a sadist  
We sweep it under the carpet
Like our other numerous
National issues

But I won’t write another story on betrayal
I won’t write another poem
On how a nation
Could forsake her innocent children
Instead I would write of a country

Steeling, steeling, growing
Growing resilient to emotion;
Becoming many times dead

To any feeling
Tearing its tissues to pieces
And building new ones
That will be senseless
Lifeless
Bloodless.

And the noise
And the noise
And the noise.






















In Chibok,
An IED finds it way
Into the mind of a savage sect
And made good use of the emptiness therein.

In helplessness,
Some school girls are bundled up
From their school compound;
Taken for a noisy ride into Sambisa;
From where they will forget
Their mothers’ voices.

On the tube,
There is a very loud lady
Anathematising the “sharing” of blood
In Borno.

When she is done,
The media is awash with the sound of
‘Na only you waka come?’

As if it is a joke
To ****** young Nigerian girls
From the four walls of their classroom
Into the coldness of the wilderness
To dwell amongst wild beasts.
To learn new lessons;
Weird lessons.

In bed at night,
My wife talks of
Church bombings;
Internally displaced persons;



Slaughtering of citizens
And the role of government in all of these
And the security of our country
And I pulled at the hairs
From around her second mouth
To make her change the topic
And she falls for it and changes the topic.

The white bearded Mallam
On the rickety bus to Yola
Fixes his eyes on me
Like some foreigner
And I feel the fire
All through the trip
And I burn and burn and burn
Like the victims of Nyanya motor park blast
It feels good though to know
What it takes to
Be burned into countless degrees.

But after three weeks
I am back to normal again
I can feel again
My senses are back again
Working optimally
And I can hear again
As the presidential pit-bull
And the black parrot
The one that used to be
In the fourth estate of the realm
Begin to mete and dole out
Slippery speeches, speeches you can’t hold
That comes upon our ears
To push out every substance
From our heads


Everything except this load of hopelessness

This bitter bile in our mouth
This unwanted fetus
That no one would claim

And then the hash tags;
The media craze;
The count down
The women in red
And the men that joined
The bring back our girls
The Michelle Obama
The celebrities from across
The noise, the sweat, the blood
The ****** thighs of those girls
Their torn underwear
Their wails, their sobs, their pains
To say the least
The echo, the deafening echo
And how we wave them all aside
And look the other way.
Like it did not happen at all
Like it was just a movie
Directed by a director
That must be a sadist  
We sweep it under the carpet
Like our other numerous
National issues

But I won’t write another story on betrayal
I won’t write another poem
On how a nation
Could forsake her innocent children
Instead I would write of a country

Steeling, steeling, growing
Growing resilient to emotion;
Becoming many times dead

To any feeling
Tearing its tissues to pieces
And building new ones
That will be senseless
Lifeless
Bloodless.

And the noise
And the noise
And the noise.


In Chibok,
An IED finds it way
Into the mind of a savage sect
And made good use of the emptiness therein.

In helplessness,
Some school girls are bundled up
From their school compound;
Taken for a noisy ride into Sambisa;
From where they will forget
Their mothers’ voices.

On the tube,
There is a very loud lady
Anathematising the “sharing” of blood
In Borno.

When she is done,
The media is awash with the sound of
‘Na only you waka come?’

As if it is a joke
To ****** young Nigerian girls
From the four walls of their classroom
Into the coldness of the wilderness
To dwell amongst wild beasts.
To learn new lessons;
Weird lessons.

In bed at night,
My wife talks of
Church bombings;
Internally displaced persons;

Slaughtering of citizens
And the role of government in all of these
And the security of our country
And I pulled at the hairs
From around her second mouth
To make her change the topic
And she falls for it and changes the topic.

The white bearded Mallam
On the rickety bus to Yola
Fixes his eyes on me
Like some foreigner
And I feel the fire
All through the trip
And I burn and burn and burn
Like the victims of Nyanya motor park blast
It feels good though to know
What it takes to
Be burned into countless degrees.

But after three weeks
I am back to normal again
I can feel again
My senses are back again
Working optimally
And I can hear again
As the presidential pit-bull
And the black parrot
The one that used to be
In the fourth estate of the realm
Begin to mete and dole out
Slippery speeches, speeches you can’t hold
That comes upon our ears
To push out every substance
From our heads

Everything except this load of hopelessness

This bitter bile in our mouth
This unwanted fetus
That no one would claim

And then the hash tags;
The media craze;
The count down
The women in red
And the men that joined
The bring back our girls
The Michelle Obama
The celebrities from across
The noise, the sweat, the blood
The ****** thighs of those girls
Their torn underwear
Their wails, their sobs, their pains
To say the least
The echo, the deafening echo
And how we wave them all aside
And look the other way.
Like it did not happen at all
Like it was just a movie
Directed by a director
That must be a sadist  
We sweep it under the carpet
Like our other numerous
National issues

But I won’t write another story on betrayal
I won’t write another poem
On how a nation
Could forsake her innocent children
Instead I would write of a country

Steeling, steeling, growing
Growing resilient to emotion;
Becoming many times dead

To any feeling
Tearing its tissues to pieces
And building new ones
That will be senseless
Lifeless
Bloodless.

And the noise
And the noise
And the noise.
Dada Olowo Eyo Apr 2015
In a cloud of disbelief and great distrust,
Over three hundred were snatched in the dead of night,
Since, more speculations have characterised their plight,
And put this minority's government on a failed ******.
#ChibokGirls #BringBackOurGirls
Dada Olowo Eyo Apr 2015
Will we look back in sincere amazement,
Of how gullible we had been,
Or in sheer and unforgivable embarrassment,
That we did not truly, honestly, come out clean?
#ChibokGirls #BringBackOurGirls
Dada Olowo Eyo Apr 2015
Now the earth has completed another revolution,
And with great outpouring of emotion,
And endless international propaganda,
We all wonder where the two hundred and nineteen are???
#ChibokGirls #BringBackOurGirls
OA Agusto Nov 2014
Arise all people who heed our call
For our nation’s girls are about to fall.
Heard are their cries
From thousands of miles.
So let us ride to Chibok,
Mounted on horses in bulk.

Your retweets and hashtags will not save them!
We need more than goodluck and patience!
We need more prayers and action!
Indeed, we shall meet them in battle!

When shall we Bring Back Our Girls?
When the campaign becomes Bring Back Our Women?
Dada Olowo Eyo Jan 2018
Now the earth has completed another revolution,
And with great outpouring of emotion,
And endless international propaganda,
We all wonder where the two hundred and nineteen are???
Written in 2015.
Dada Olowo Eyo Jan 2018
Will we look back in sincere amazement,
Of how gullible we had been,
Or in sheer and unforgivable embarrassment,
That we did not truly, honestly, come out clean?
Dada Olowo Eyo Jan 2018
In a cloud of disbelief and great distrust,
Over three hundred were snatched in the dead of night,
Since, more speculations have characterised their plight,
And put this minority's government on a failed ******.
Written in 2015.
Dada Olowo Eyo Apr 2019
Over two hundred girls, taken, many moons ago,
Then more than one hundred, stolen,  in the same vein,
While the politics of stupidity serenades their incompetence,
Beer parlour intellectualism fingers the minds of many keyboard warriors.
Over five years after the Chibok girls were abducted by boko haram, the government of the day grapples with the rescue of hundreds of girls in captivity. Previous government bungled any chances of rescue by jumping on conspiracy bandwagon. SHAME.
Dada Olowo Eyo Mar 2018
Over two hundred girls many moons ago,
Then over one hundred in the same vein,
While the politics of stupidity serenades their incompetence,
Beer parlour intellectualism fingers the minds of the many keyboard warriors.
After Chiboks girls were captured about fours years ago, Dapchi girls followed suit...and Nigerians are clearly, clearly non the wiser.

— The End —