When the cheer begins
When the lights are on
When the music is loud
The screams, oh mine
And the flashing lights see paparazzi
I'm fresh money- karma karzee
When I am demi-god
When the crowd finally meets me
They think I am legend
When they eventually touch me.

Knowing that I can change many things
As I represent my family
I'll so much love the smile on mama's face,
That's my baby mama says
I'm the leader of a zillion fans
So put your gaddem hands in the air.

Cos when the cheer begins
Then I'll be king
And I'll reign supreme
That's if the cheer begins
Alas! When will the cheer begin? 

Written by: @Olladave
Olladave is a singer and poet

When my time comes I will leave, there will be no BEEP…

I may not be ready.. yet I must leave, heard that the pain is DEEP…

My knowledge and knowing all must leave, left alone my wealth you can share the JEEP…

If my time comes, please don’t go to my grave and WEEP…

Because am not there at SLEEP…

If my time comes, all I need is a prayer you’ll KEEP…

Fatima Garba Aliyu

Kano, Nigeria.

TO THE SOUL THAT NEVER DIES

Like a ray of light in the darkness of my heart she came forth

Her words cut through the bricks I spent all my years building

Going through our conversations over and over again

The memories we shared…our stories….our scars

Our pains…our happiness…we shared it all

Nothing was held back.

IFEOLUWA

To my friend, my companion, the one who understands my fears

In just 63days Ifeoluwa showed me what it means to love

She lived every bit of her life with so much passion.

My friend loved me just the way I am.

 poured every of her essence on my inside

She told me things ….

I heard the wise men say all that is beautiful fades away

My friend is beautiful in all her essence….she captured my mind

She tried so hard to make me see the death she was fighting

But she did it with so much grace I thought it simple.

Ifeoluwa Deborah Ayokunnu Ojikutu you are more than a friend

You are my sister! So many times you told me how much you loved me

She told me nothing can separate us from the love of God! Not even death.

And how much I challenge you to see the next day

I guess I ran out of fuel

My friend lived

I love you ifeoluwa.

I’ll miss you.

RIP Love

Before We Met – Fatima Garba Aliyu

Before we met, I was minding my own business,

Before we met, I was a peaceful African Country,

Before we met, I was termed the giant of Africa,

Before we met, my elites were strong and united,

Before we met, my people were hard-working,

Before we met, transparency was what I adopted,

Before we met, my leaders were after good leadership,

To serve there people, And not to be served,

Before we met, those at the top respected those at the root,

And those at the root honoured those at the top,

Before we met, a universal understanding was between my people,

Before we met, I was bearing the name Nigeria,

And not the name Nigeria bearing me,

Before we met

Before we met

I was a corrupt free society

Lady Of The Niger Area

It will only take forever I bet

To cast her off my mind

The thought I will bind

Cos she’s such a beauty to find.

A used to be London slave

Yet not a freeborn in her own enclave,

The reason for her laughable laughter;

Her sons and daughters.

I sorrowfully sobbed when I knew that I am born

So impoverished to be her son.

Lady of the Niger area

I have not stolen of your gbaramutu gold

Neither have I hidden your treasures of old

The abundant leftover of the Londoner’s loot.

Lady of the Niger area

Millions of your dime,

Now once upon a time

Still rich in gold, milk and honey

But what of your dandy sons

Who orders a banquet each time they belch

How you look centenarian

In your so tender middle age

That Methuselah will call you old

Just like the anguish on the face of a labouring

ape

Such is your radiance.

Naked of your rags; nothing in your bags.

Oh! I cry for you my root.

For with my flute,

I will always blow the tunes of your bruise.

By @olladave

Olladave is a singer and poet

A Winter Of Withering Warriors

Where is your sword and shield?

Warrior and knight of the people

The tales of your blood-drawing dagger

In the fight against looting and cruelty

Is yet to be read in our waiting ears

Where are those fiery darts?

Your tongue aimed at thieves and spivs

Who fed from our sweats and burden and

Wiped their anus with our heads

Where’s your pecking voice oh renegade?

My hands are well washed and

With elders I am given a seat

Sit and hear oh warrior of yesteryears

The history you forgot in our room

When you pitched your tenth in Aso-tent

Esau Jacob’s ‘foodgasm’ could not resist

Like sodium metal in aqueous solution

Whose strength is consumed to nothingness

His hungry soul displaced his senses

The price was paid and it was his birthright.

My seat is still with the elders

My history lessons are of the ancients

Well taught wisdom you left abandoned

When you nod your head at every hypocrisy

And flash your teeth at the deception of Aso-Rock

The drooping breast and hanging nipples

Did not dissuade the lustful Reuben

When he pitched and thrusts his third leg

To uncover the thighs of Jacob’s wife

His birthright and voice was the price

I still have my seat with the elders

Yea! My hands are thoroughly washed

The greedy, stubborn and headstrong flea

Will be buried with the dead the elders say

This is wisdom, buy it and let it not

The palace and scepter of ruler-ship

The victuals, revelry and comfort of Aso-rock

Holding your tongue and sight captive

Like a vapor is but for a short while

This is wisdom, nothing lasts forever.

(For Reuben Abati and all those who close their eyes and have sold their conscience to the rituals of their present state of grandiose that Aso-rock offers amidst the sufferings of the poor majority).

– Elisha Otome Okoromoba
Follow on twitter: @ElishaOtome

POETRY: The Day of the Ants – Elisha Otome Okoromoba @ElishaOtome

The Day of the Ants

It seems like a dream when the surge poured

The spirit rage within me and my fingers tweaked

Write! The voice roared angrily. Write!

There is rot in the land

Wickedness has crawled to the rooftop

It has spread its wings with utter disdain

The custodians of the law have drank

Their conscience to oblivion and cruelty

None, yes none has sewn truth

Their wretched tongue spits guile

Thievery is the content of their blood

And dishonesty! The fluid their soul lives off

Write! The spirits bids me ferociously

The vanguard of the people

The mouth piece of the innocents

The cloak and tongue of the clergy

The scepter and greyness of the elders

All polluted in the pool of lies and treachery

Hear! The spirit roars to me

Like a raging storm of thick clouds

My wrath is gone up with fury

The ants you have made to eat dust

Like a ravaging army from the West

Will eat your flesh to rottenness

Mercy will elude you in that day

Their bite is quick and your rot!

Is slow on your open eyes and numb body

They will recount your woes on chalk board

Your offspring to the fourth will not hide

Until the land is free of your filthy woes

–      Elisha Otome Okoromoba

Follow on twitter: @ElishaOtome

ABU @50: A Poem by Aliyu Bala Aliyu

Towering above them all like a giant almond tree

Watching over their young souls free

Imparting knowledge to all that seeketh

From far and near they cometh

From the north; from the south

From the south; from the east

Zaria was the confluence

We may not have set our eyes on the fireworks

But we sure felt the warmth of the fireplace

Even saw the splinters and glowing sparks

From the sages of yore that walked your face

And set alight lit the raging flames of scholarship

Those of activism not least either

And the nation bore did bear witness

The continent the echoes did hear

And the world the vibrations

We salute you oh ABU

But by the toll of time and clime

All dying from wear and tear

And no firebrands and brains to nourish their flames

Nearly all drained or cowered to base

In toil and sweat battling to survive

Stifled yet trudging on

As the testimonies bear to say it all

We salute you oh ABU

For standing so tall through these years

Through the ups and downs

Showering us with love and all you had to give

Your sons and daughters the world over are strewn

How gallant and high they strut the earth

With their badges of excellence and honour

“ABUSITES” as your children are called

Ahead and distinguished in all we do

So proud to be born of you

Certainly so to pass the baton

To the generations to carry on the tradition

We lit our torch at your feet

And gazed upon your visage

And beheld the promise of tomorrow

And theirs too they shall light there

How proud; how glad; we are honoured

Thy flag shall flutter and lights not dim

Beyond two scores and ten

We salute you oh ABU

Aliyu Bala Aliyu,

Dec 2012,

Lagos

#ThinkOutLoud POETRY: BLAMES AND FAILURES- Osowe Oluwagbenga O @gbengaosowe

Let the river of blames flow,

Bringing in its tides pains and sorrow,

Let it harbour a bleak hope for the morrow

Bringing sadness and fear that touches even our marrows

Let it flow and deal with us deadly blows

Let evil spirits be blamed for darkness that thrives,

Oh blame the media that the world sees us in a bad light,

For the mass failure of students blame the “corpers”,

Let the children who have no food to eat blame their fathers,

Blame the masses for the fuel that has become scarce

Failure has come to reign in a kingdom made for brilliance

Security and development have taken flight at its appearance

Kidnapping, larceny and grand theft are no longer strange

Money grows wings and flies like birds newly come of age

Healthcare stands on wobbly feet,

Our leaders go to other lands when they feel pains in their teeth,

Probe reports are inconclusive and looters walk free,

The land is in pain, failure has her in its grip

Standards are falling, debts are rising,

And my people keep the blames coming

Hoping the blames bring up solution.

Let the blames flow and let failure be its companion.

Activists blame the pastors who ask for prayers

The clerics blame sin for the situation

Government blames the press,

“Old” media blames new media,

Yet we see no solutions,

Let the blames flow, maybe it would one day change things

Thank God my people now see why we should be praying

Casting and binding, loosing and tying

Oh ye forces of failure we bind thee,

We cast thee into abyss and pits that have no bottom,

You forces of failure be gone from our midst we pray,

Go reside in the homes of our leaders looters who rape us each day

Enough of the blames I say,

Let us get angry everyone in his own way,

And with venom seek the very change we dearly crave

From councillors to Senators, let us pour forth our wrath,

Enough of the blames, let it stop this day

To keep up the blames is a failure in itself I say.

@gbengaosowe

Folded here neatly
I fit into your embrace
I can hear your heart
Beats of life – a part of me
Your body feels warm to touch
And I feel your breath
waking up emotions
I never knew were there

You make me feel safe
Away from the world
Away from the chaos
Away from myself
And how I feel safe
Here with you. In your arms

Eyes closed in sleep
I watch over you
Smiling, possessive
Wishing you’ll never leave
Tho’ I know someday
Those chains will come
to take you away from me
so I sail into dreams
Fleeting time, worth eternity

Away from the world
Away from the chaos
Away from myself
Oh how I feel safe
Here with you in my heart

Bridge
And tho’ that time will come,
When memories of now will be all I have
I bear no regrets, no pain, no grudge
Because then as now, I will remember
this peace of my heart holding on to you
knowing you’ll always be here to take me
away

Away from the world
Away from the chaos
Away from myself
God, how I feel safe
Here with you in my head.

Osundolire Oladapo Ifelanwa

OIO
for Aphrodite

POETRY: Musings of a Common Man – by Henry Chybuzor Igwe @Chybuzor1

Musings of a Common Man

I am not against them, in the slightest.

I am just no fan of inflated praises,

She is an attractive lady: Our Nation,

They are ensconced in the top seat: Our Rulers,

In the wake of current happenings,

If you expect I rhyme out adulations,

None can beat you to hilarity, honestly.

It is no joke.

For every  kid running the busy roads,

With a tray on his head,

Every hungry family going to bed empty;

From the many tears, and wailing voices,

Does their conscience not get some flogging?

Corruption pervades every sphere of her,

The noxious effects transcend Public Offices,

Even “Pastors” reek of this absurdity,

On an average; a “Preacher” could gouge his unsuspecting congregation,

To near-death,

Under the guise of “give unto the Lord”,

What nonsense…what preposterous religion debasement…,

Inveterate looters hold Public Offices,

Wonder if they’ve felt the pangs of hunger, ever,

The inkling of insecurity, and facility dilapidation,

Or do they feign ignorance? Perhaps, they do.

The roads are a mess: slaughter slabs at best,

Millions of potentials, not a single harnessed, not one.

They have a mind of their own,

Misguided preferences,

Anti-people and Growth-retardant policies,

Yet they expect some moronic praise-singing?

I can’t.

We savour our subhuman conditions with obvious relish,

We have our rulers to thank,

For the most part of our sufferings. Stunning.

They have perpetually perpetrated evil, ruination and mass wrecking.

She is quite not the lady I knew,

Many times she has been abused,

Now she appears as one of easy virtue,

They ascend the throne, make a whore of her, and leave.

Sad…sickening. Shucks.

Next month (October) she turns a year older,

I see her lifestlye and shudder,

She’s not educated nor developed,

Her kids (the youths) are running wild,

Living abysmally,

It portends grave danger,

She is on the edge of a precipice.

Last week I saw her,

She’s clad in a Green top,

A skimpy White skirt, plus Green flip-flops,

Her face heavily adorned,

She’s bejewelled,

With dark glasses on (power outage),

She sashays on a beach –sunny day- oblivious of the world,

Since she is used to round-the-clock darkness,

She sees not the onlookers,

Struggling with the wind her skirt allows for some peep,

The world catches a glimpse of her undies.

She has lost it.

No shame nor feelings of guilt,

An African woman,

The African pride, is she?

She is a frustrating enigma.

Yet they expect accolades,

As though she were a nun.

It is not all despair,

Change might come, weeping may endure for the night…,

Relentless, I am, in my pursuit of betterment,

It would happen, when, I wouldn’t know,

Albeit something has to give.

– by Henry Chybuzor Igwe @Chybuzor1

POETRY: My Next Door Neighbor – by Henry Chybuzor Igwe @Chybuzor1

My Next Door Neighbor

(1)

The brightness died slowly,

As the sky expelled the sun,

The night drew near; little stars sparkled.

He approached the house,

In an unsteady; uneven gait,

He was oiled: a dozen or so bottles,

An indulgence cum panacea; or so he thought,

He cruised this path almost everyday.

On the one hand he drank to the full,

Spent so much time at the pub,

Till he ran deep in debt,

Then started to trade off belongings,

On the other hand; he chain-smoked.

Other times; he got freebies,

If there was a party or he met his sort; at the joint,

He got freebies; but at the cost of his health.

He didn’t care enough to be worried,

He maintained an inseparable bond with the hard drink,

And he puffed; like a chimney. Atrocious.

To top it off; he assaulted her,

Viciously; unendingly and untiringly.

The feel of nicotine had woven into his brain cells,

A total beast when high; nothing compared to him.

Drinking relieved his stress; beyond measure,

Times were hard; what better solace?

(2)

Usually; he came to normal in the morn,

Roused by the cock crow; he would dust his butt,

Wash his face and cycle away; to the Motor park,

He had a space there; fixed tubes and tyres.

Rufus was popular; somewhat a renowned artisan,

President of the “Vulcanizer’s” Union,

Normal in all respects; he appears, until evening.

After work; he would retire to the pub,

And then to the house; down the road,

To the left of the market; same path leading to the swamp.

He gave Ada a paltry for housekeep,

But gave her an overdose of beatings; if she dared question,

He was short and stout; with a deep accent,

A bully and a perplexing drunk,

Times were hard; what better solace?

He ran this routine very many times,

But yesterday was the last straw,

And it didn’t break the camel’s back – it killed it!

He edged towards the house; a beret laying precariously on his head,

High as a kite; he pushed on,

Vague view; slight rain showers,

And just enough light to direct his movement,

His left foot struck a lump,

He was used to kicking this sort; with his half-laced, old brown canvass,

                       Whenever he forgot his bicycle at the pub; and walked home, like tonight.

Ada had the last child on her back,

The older ones played outside – moonlight games,

Though dark; the neighborhood wasn’t all quiet,

“4 Square” Junction – a stone’s throw away; was aglow with evening bustling,

Highlife music blared from speakers.

He sauntered into the house,

Mumbled a few indecipherable words; his breath reeking of rum,

And fell into the broken Cain chair.

She put the baby down; ignored its wailings and tied her scarf firm,

Below her bosom; in a gesture of readiness,

She wanted answers; to his late nights and irresponsible excesses,

She had had enough.

She cursed and nagged on; in voluble streams of Igbo,

She must have gone on for some fifteen minutes,

Until Rufus; thinking too that he had had enough,

Staggered up; to his full height,

Pulled back his arm and slapped her hard.

She crashed against the wall; falling bonelessly to the ground.

She tried to rise; then floundered and fell back,

Something dark and wet jelled her hair – blood!

He had thought to thrash her; to within an inch of her life,

He miscalculated,

She breathed her last before midnight.

Times were hard; he sought solace, he got solace,

But his wife was the price.

– by Henry Chybuzor Igwe @Chybuzor1

PS: Assaults and Battery are a common menace to society. These savage acts can be triggered by drunkenness, amongst other things.

*Alcohol and Smoking impair judgment and lower inhibition.

*Even one puff can satisfy up to 50 percent of certain nicotine receptors in the brain for three hours. The result is often a full relapse.

*You are not too far to quit, pessimism saps the will.

The asterisked parts are excerpts of “The Awake” Magazine, March, 2010.

Alcohol; Smoking and, consequently, assaults are grossly dangerous, please shun all forms of domestic violence and help spread the word. No form of abuse is rational, on any grounds.

Names are used fictitiously, and are a figment of the writer’s imagination. Any resemblance with persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

POETRY: The Village Boy – by Henry Chybuzor Igwe @Chybuzor1

The Village Boy

(1)

My People and I have a rich, long history.

My People ar’ endowed, ours’ a bless’d land,

Long before I was born, foreigners ruled our village;

They were very light-skinned, I was told.

They were around for some time, then passed the baton and left;

After which my People ruled, and ruled for plenty years.

There ar’ a myriad of reports that my People mismanaged,

Misappropriated funds an’ left for the foreigners’,

Their wives and kids were there already,

Waiting patiently for them to round off in Office and relocate,

So they could feast and make merry at will.

They wore pricey jackets, their wives dripped with gold.

I am not bothered much. They ar’ from the other end,

The part o’ our village that deems power birthright,

I was somewhat younger when they ruled;

…not much knowledge o’ the running of our place,

Bu’ I am told they put the village in ruins, then left.

The daring ones stuck around…without shame nor remorse,

And ask’d for ‘nother chance,

A tenure to rule again; a time to “change” our village for good.

Maybe this time cars would drive on water,

And we would walk in the sky,

Maybe we would have Porsches run as taxis;

And power would be stable, and jobs will abound.

Empty promises, ar’ these?

(2)

I live with my old Parents, near a riv’r,

Our roof is bad so we share a room at night;

I attended Secondary School on scholarship,

It didn’t change much, I dropped out anyway.

The Anglican Church adjacent to my School came off,

The renegades in our community struck again;

Apostates who relished in recurrent decimations.

Well, the bomb struck on a Friday ev’ning, killed some three score and five,

Injured eight dozen adults an’ kids,

Detonated major areas o’ my School, razed three buildings nearby;

…a major Bank was caught in the mix.

We graduated abruptly and ill qualified too.

It’s a Government School, six months deep, we are;

No reconstructions, not one word from him,

…no SSCE, I had to hustle, pockets full o’ hope, no naira.

Papa served the Railway Corporation earnestly, nothin’ to show,

Thirty five years; gratuities, pensions – zero.

Should I vent? Should I lose it?

I am bothered much, particularly as my Uncle is in charge now.

I don’t get how he gets to govern our Village and ther’ isn’t much change.

He is no strang’r to poverty, he walked on bare foot, he says;

Now he feeds on a billion in twelve months,

Globe-trotting on private jets: palpable affluence,

As for clothes and shoes; Versace, D&G, Cesare Pacioti and co. are a phone call away.

Yet we languish.… we ask but he answers not.

First, he asks that we exercise patience,

Then he asks us to sacrifice (subsidy), I wonder how;

Since we have nothing, maybe he means with our blood, maybe.

I’m trying with effort not to offend him,

But we hav’ been acutely impinged upon, we have.

I don’t wan’ him upset though b’cause I fear he might take back the “palliatives”,

The “breath of fresh air” that he’s provided,

And the 1100 buses that convey us, since we haven’t found moving around too easy,

In the wake of his New Year Gift.

– by Henry Chybuzor Igwe (@Chybuzor1 on Twitter)

Ode To General Mamman Shuwa – by Aliyu Bala Aliyu @AliyuBalaAliyu

–

Ode To General Mamman Shuwa

The bullets of the secessionists couldn’t fell him

Nor the mortar fires and aerial bombardments

Grenades, petrol bombs and mushroomed soot

For a man of rare bravery and valour he was as told

Respected by superiors; admired by peers so warm

He was revered by subordinates unsought

Platoons and battalions and garrisons of yore

Unto him were bound in obeisance and camaraderie

Esprit de corps like a bouquet did beauty reveal

And indeed like true companies did attain victory in awe

Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Foxtrot, Echo; sir yes sir!

Unknown to many a latter generation as a hero of war

Hidden he was from the public and peering of the press

Attention he courted not and none he got indeed

A professional in uniform and gentleman in mufti

He was a soldier’s soldier with abundance of courage

Measured in words; he was in form at peace with all

His life rogue elements that hit did cut abrupt and short

The General and war time hero at home they killed

Blotting out a bright flame of distinguished service

Behold the rivers of tears and grief untold

“The green flags did bow as did the colour party”

“Draped in nostalgic surrender they fluttered”

His uniforms, boots and cap their boss would miss

Headgears, epaulets and bayonets differ not

His weapon and companion though could save him not

Felled from the trigger of rogues not brave to fight

Hit and run killers a great man did take for life

Yet on the road to death his bravery did sprout

But his songs shall ring for years to come

The bugles and gun salutes shall echo till the end

In tears and grief he was lowered to earth

True to the code and pledge of victory from God

A soldier’s creed as sworn to uphold and die for

Live on General Mamman Shuwa! Live on General!!

For though your body forever is gone from us

Certainly memories of you doth our company keep

And prayers to you we send now and always

In salutation and grief we bide you veteran farewell

 —

Aliyu Bala Aliyu

Masters Student, Public and International Affairs,

University of Lagos

email: aliyubala.aliyu@gmail.com

blog: www.illuminationzz.wordpress.com

twitter: @AliyuBalaAliyu

What lies under the bundle,

Might not be for our sight;

Until we burst out with trouble,

We might not see the light.

They cover up all their odd deeds,

For our eyes not to behold;

Our minds they always toy with,

For them not to unfold.

How long do we grumble?

Not that but real action,

Can make their acts to tumble,

If we really want to sanction.

The broom when bound together,

Sweeps every single crumbles;

Let’s come as one as brothers,

And make their plans to rumble.

Julius Akinlabi

Follow @juliusakinlabi on twitter

POETRY: Mama Africa’s Cry – by Kolawole Ayinuola

In the thick darkness of the deserted savannah,
A thin cry pierces the deafening silence
As a bereaved mother weeps for her only son,
Behold Mama Africa’s cry for her beloved children

With her blessings we departed long ago,
Making heartfelt promises of a glorious return
But like prodigal sons, we have long forgotten,
Disregarding the womb that birthed the dreams we followed
We have left her desolate, her heart weary with expectations

She calls out to the corners of the earth, crying
‘When will I see the sons of my womb?’
Her wounded heart beckons to the whirlwind, Ajakubo
‘Will my daughters ever rest on these breasts that nurtured them?!’
But all she hears is silence – for no one knows
None can tell her, and her tears remain her song

Over clear blue seas and the highest of hills her cry has travelled
Sons and daughters of Africa, lend a ear to your mother’s plea
Mend her roof as well as her heart
Kolawole, bring home the wealth you promised that she may eat,
Let her revel in the knowledge you have traveled so far to acquire
And with open arms, cry out to her: ‘Mama, your children are back to mend your heart.’

Kolawole Ayinuola

#ThinkOutLoud: LESS TALK, MORE ACTION- @gbengaosowe

“This piece is dedicated to Olayole Oluseyi (@sunkit1) Raquel Jacobs  (@ms_raquell) and every other Nigerian youth showing kindness by their actions”

Ajara is thirteen, and she has the speed of a horse.

To her, every errand is a joyous opportunity to run and exercise

She has mates in USA and Jamaica who have considerably less speed and skill

Yet, they would be the world champions in 2020 Olympics

While Ajara might never get on the tracks for Nigeria

Because our sports ministry is all talk, no action.

James, a  five years old boy with no shoes, lives in Bariga.

He hears his parents complain about the rising cost of food items but does not understand.

Why does his father always hiss whenever he listens to the news?

Muttering words like thieves, corrupt people and clueless government

The boy doesn’t understand the words but knows that life can be better

To him a pair of sandals and school books will make an early Christmas.

People say talk is cheap! I say DEFINITELY NOT in Nigeria

In my country, talk is not cheap, TALK IS  FREE

Everyone who has a mouth and a semblance of a brain can talk

They talk of fashion, sports, music and politics

Seminars, conferences, committee meetings and all manners of talks

In my country people talk, yes they do talk

Everybody talks in my country and they all want to be heard

They call it blogs, articles and stories but I say they are all talks.

They talk about how the nation can be better if we act together

Much talk, little action and the situation remains the same

To talk about the ills in the society is noble and should be encouraged

To try and remedy the situation by our actions is nobler.

I have many things to say but I’d rather stop here and get to work

Lest I be guilty of more talk and less action

The little boys, girls and infants whose homes have been ravaged by flood will not read my article

But my actions will definitely be appreciated by them and their parents

As you read this article prepare your mind to back your words with actions

Less talk, more action is the panacea to our common problems.

I am @gbengaosowe

I want to be remembered for good. I want to be on the right side of history.

I want to be remembered as a man who never shied away from speaking the truth.
I want to be remembered as a man who never kept quiet in the face of injustice.
I want to be remembered as a man who never cringed in the face of tyranny.
I want to be remembered as a man who gave his all, and did his part for his generation.
I want to be remembered for good.

I want to be remembered as a man who wasn’t loved by all, but loved by the few that counted.
I want to be remembered as a man who never sought to please everyone, for that was an impossible task.
I want to be remembered as a man who lightened the burden of the weary and put smiles on the face of the discouraged.
I want to be remembered for good.

I want to be remembered as a man who didn’t follow public opinion, but had his own mind.
I want to be remembered as a man who never walked in anyone’s path, but cleared his own path, walked there and left footprints.
I want to be remembered as a man who never knelt at the feet of corruption or drank from the cup of illegality.
I want to be remembered for good.

I want to be remembered as a man who loved his country dearly, and helped free it from the grip of bad rulers.
I want to be remembered as a man who toiled and sweated to the end that a new nation will be born.
I want to be remembered as a man who rose and lifted others along with him.
I want to be remembered for good.

I will be remembered.
O yes, I will.
Whether I do good, or it’s evil I choose.
I’ll rather do good,
So that when posterity will judge,
And history will remember.
I will be remembered for good.

By Ogunjimi James Taiwo

E-mail: hullerj@yahoo.com

Twitter: @hullerj

Blog: www.thechangewewant.wordpress.com

THINGS FALL APART (Poetry) – by Okegbemiro Oluwaseun

A simulation of a life drawn on the gates of Aso Rock

Classic case of perception versus reality

Wealthy individuals, starving nation

Corrupt leaders, vitiated people

Separated by the differing amount of zeros in our bank accounts

With men swinging their agbada saying, “one thousand, five hundred”

We need to account for the days when we would go to the bank, exchange one Naira for one Dollar

The days when new graduates would get a job days after graduation

New civil servants riding around in their Volkswagen Beetles

United by the greed we all share in our eyes

A nation where things fall apart

From the soldiers in the Biafra war to the coup d’état that eliminated Aguiyi Ironsi and Fajuyi in 1966

The letter bomb,boom shalakaboobkaboom boom pow pow,that spread the body of Dele Giwa in his living room on October 19 1986

As significant as the war shells that was left to fall apart in Ikeja cantonment

Not deciphered by the great mind of our past military leaders, leading to boom shalakaboobkaboom boom pow pow, this time louder, as more bodies fall apart

Yet the president responds with, “We are a nation of millions of people. We thank God it is just a couple thousands, it could have been more”

Gone are the days when the Eagles were super

When Okocha would dribble through a defense like a snake in a maze

When Oliseh would drive a shot that tore the net like a knife in the hand of a hunter

Oh, how do I forget “SAP”

The devaluation of the Naira that sapped us of our strength as a nation

Religious enmity, clowned under the disguise of zonal leadership

Hausa today, Yoruba tomorrow and Igbo never

Clever, but we are smarter than that

By ‘we’, I mean the youth that are now willing to stand up

The ones who scream #ENOUGHISENOUGH on the streets of Abuja

The ones who demonstrated peaceful protest during #OCCUPYNIGERIA

All we ask is to #LIGHTUPNIGERIA

Yahooze has become the order of the day

On this day, I ask to have it in another way

Cultural Hegemony edges money in the mouth of my culture

People shutting their lips in reward for a meal for their family

They have become an ally to the destruction of self,refusing to get emancipated from mental slavery

Shutting their eyes from the evil jungle justice they see

Triggered fingers fingering the guitar of the late Fela Anikulapo Kuti

Where are the men who would revive Kalakuta Republic?

Where are the men who would change the coil in the lantern when the oil runs out?

Yes, the oil will not last forever

Remember the strife of the Ogoni people

The public unquestioned hanging of Ken Saro Wiwa

I do not expect us to fall anymore to this kind abasha

Abacha might have drained our resources

Luckily, in many of us, the source is gained

The government has for long put us in a portmanteau of conundrum

They have played us hide and seek as all things fall apart

Deceiving us with words like “I had no shoes”

Today they fly in the sky

Making us sell our shoes to maintain our families

They express their ability to word play as they play with words

Just that in reality, they are playing with our oblivion

Okegbemiro Oluwaseun

www.dazedfaze.blogspot.com

@MCMrLucas on twitter

Reuben the cursed son of Jacob (Poetry) – by Elisha Otome Okoromoba

It was yesterday or was it not?

Your voice echoed through your pen

The ink glued to time and memories

Like the running night clouds when

The swift east wind wakes the sun

It is today, yes just today

Your pen echoes through your voice

Like the noisy okpolokpolo in Osho-drive’s chest

The lyric of which there’s no dance step

But bile mingled with disgust to our already flaccid legs

It was yesterday, yes just yesterday

Your pen like a dragon rained fire

To the defense of the commons and lowly

Whose future from ages long have been distilled

In the apparatus of fear, hopelessness and helplessness

I mean yesterday! Or was it not?

When we all rushed to Wilmer’s paper stand

To hear from the oracle of the Guardian

Whose mouth spewed terror on government’s treachery

As exemplified in Bukola’s lootitude anthem

Yea! It was you, yes you!

Who gave heads and presidents the lingering flu

At the threat of grenade and letter bomb

Your pen like Voltron’s magical blazing sword

Rubbished their excesses, dictatorship and cowardice

Oh today, yes just today

Like the gloomy weather that signal heavy rainfall

When we hide indoors to hope, chat and play

Our warrior sleeps and dines with Dolus and Apate

At the seeming high and unconquerable heavens of Aso Rock

The smell of Jacob’s fart

Rummaging your senses to sweetness

Is the axe and curse that writes your story in proverbs

For when tomorrow shall come

Today will be but yesterday and

We will call you Reuben the cursed son of Jacob

Elisha Otome Okoromoba

The Looters’ Anthem

Arise O Lootatriots

The looter’s call obey

To loot our fatherland

With greed and zest and verve

The booties of our looters past

Shall never be recovered

To steal with patience and vigour

One nation ruled by bandits

Crooks and bribe-takers

O God of subsidy

Protect our bribery scams

Guide our looters right

Help our greed the loots to steal

In debts and terrorism we grow

And looting day and night

Fat foreign reserves plundered

To build a nation where luck

And cabals shall reign

PLEDGE:

I pledge to the umblerra of my party

To be greedy, clueless and corrupt

To loot Nigeria with all my strength

To defend our lootitude

And uphold our mansions and billions

So let us loot

Ogunyemi Bukola

Follow me on twitter: @zebbook

Blog: www.zebbook.com

Promises of pardoned traitors    
Reek like ancient regrets.
Exhibitions,
Steeped in rapacity.
Inured to light, they
Dominate blindly
Evoking the same air of oppression
Noteworthy of the days of yore.
Traitors in transit, trampling as they go.

Over us, they bellow.
Lording it, they rule
Under the guise of foreign dogmas,
Silence all demanding.
Egocentric beasts with rotund bellies
Gloats with our reserves.
Unaffected by the groaning of a people
Nestled in penury.

Our Overseers,
Behemoths, disguised,
Assiduously make us the
Shame of the whole world while
At  perfect ease with themselves.
Neglecting the many sufferers about, they
Jostle for private vaults in Zurich as
Our poverty became their riches.

And the bespectacled gargoyle
Trenched in the prison called Rock.
Impervious to all wisdom,
Kept an unholy vigil as
Undertakers beckoned suddenly.

Archetypical simpletons, they
Bask in gaudy wealth
Untouched by the miseries surrounding them
Building high walls to keep prying eyes away.
Atop Hills, perched like Vultures,
Kleptocrats searching for new honour.
Aglow in oily garbs, they
Regale themselves, as the world looks on in amazement!

Macaulay Oluseyi Akinbami

Rueben is Dead (Poetry)

Pen Brutish Rueben is dead, cold blooded, and dumb
We shall not mourn,
Our first born scribe now buried in their ruins, as many of his likes
Weep not comrades,
Will he speak for himself?
Not again,

The rejoinder master lies on the laps of Delilah’s whom he once denounced
He shook hands with the devil and died
Ruben was not killed with their barrels when he ought to have been dead
He gave himself up willingly
And threw reputation to the mire
The columns of contradicted life condemns conscience
Disparaged pages of Jewish fated hypocrisies
Public circulated ranting at the Rutam House for advantage
Only reprobates, dares to defend these, justifying them in rejoinders
The obvious, we lost him

A consenting silence, the booing of legislators, the shock of commoners
No rejoinders, none till the expiration of his mingle after four years,
If it comes,
It will be weak, supportive of the evil he once decries
We lost him.
A rare obituary for comrade’s compromise
In honour, dishonoured
Gather yourselves together to the head counts
One man is missing again, amongst scrawl’s giants
His price was paid, fully paid
His dignity mellowed for pomp

Ruben,
Trapped by ganger wigs to the tricks of the Poll
Silence demeaning an age long chevron,
Now bowed to the “Yes-man-ship” of intelligential
Is this the manner of a fall?
“Unelected” Ruben,
Scoop the motives when deeds are done
Now, in reiterates, a kiss of betrayal
For $, £, #
Bring us no more juice of their scandals, wrapped around your neck
Reputation!

“Oft got without merit, lost without deserving”
And like the morsel of Esau,
Or the heel of Achilles
He fell headlong to his secret desired lust,
The motivation of his wittiness, “gain”
“Use to be”, delectable most read columnar
The guardian of innocent brave Negro clone,
A tutor to unsoiled zealous journalist
Until his price was determined in the closet of crafters
And as Judas, sold his master and friends the masses

Besmirched Ruben,
Farewell,
From the table of our pride and denouncement,
From the honour of untainted degrees,
From the circle of few men loyal to conscience,
From the gathering of consistent morality,
We bid you farewell,
When the roll call is renewed after this ruin, “sell-outs” shall not be there
Farewell Ruben, enjoy the loots
Farewell

Macaulay Oluseyi Akinbami

WELCOME TO THE SCHOOL OF ABSURDITIES – Osowe Oluwagbenga O

Welcome to the school of absurdities

Where paid teachers sit down and the paying students teach

A school where promotion comes not by passing exams

Our principal knows the troublemakers but cannot do anything about it

They are the sons of his friends, his precious friends in whom he is well pleased

Coming late is a CAPITAL offence is our school

Punishable by demotion, suspension or even EXPULSION

But if you’re caught cheating, be smart, plea and bargain

The simple punishment will be to “go and cheat no more”

Don’t be amazed nor bamboozled, ours is the school of absurdities.

In our school, if the governing council want more pay,

They threaten the principal and we, the students, pay more fees

The meals from the school kitchen is paltry at best

Garri, Cassava bread and cassava juice are our daily portions

We have no choice but to relish it in this school of absurdities

Our principal’s wife is one of the school “prefects”

She has an office and she even takes a share of our school fees

And of course the rules binding other prefects do not apply in her case.

Don’t you dare tell me that I’m lying?

This is the school of absurdities and anything goes!

I wished I could say good things about the principal,

But, you know I must not lie.

As a young man, he had no shoes

And that’s why he seizes “shoes” from we the students

Well we have forgiven him, for he knows not what he does

Welcome to the school of absurdities’

Here, most of our best teachers have resigned voluntarily

Because the school’s governing council will not listen to wise counsel

Some have even been sacked for daring to criticise the principal

And now, rival schools; have been enriched by their knowledge

How can you ask if we have no school prospectus and student guidelines?

Is it possible for us to have a school without those documents?

Why we don’t follow what the rule books baffles me!

Maybe when I get older, things will become clearer

For now I will just enjoy this school and pray things get better.

How I wish I can leave this school and go to another

But I am stuck here because I want to see it get better

I want to see this school be like the dream of its founding fathers

Dreams that made them lay aside their differences

To build a school fit for the training of princes

I hope to see this school become great again

To see tales of its present state seem like fables

To my children yet unborn and their children’s children

I pray to see the school experience a change of name

To hear the school’s rulers no longer dance in shame

Replace the principal with a president

And call the prospectus a constitution

For cheating, put looting

And I bid you

WELCOME To NIGERIA, the SCHOOL of ABSURDITIES

OSOWE OLUWAGBENGA

I ‘m @gbengaosowe on twitter

What, i ask is the cost of a Nigerian life?

Give ear to my words, o rulers,
Turn not thy ears away thou that art in power.
Listen and I will ask thee, and let’s see if thou canst answer;
What does a Nigerian life cost?

On a daily basis do diseases send men to their grave,
3000 people we are told perish of hunger day to day.
Yet unconcerned are the rulers who loot the money,
Even when the families are thrown into mourning.
The money for the hospitals and the drugs have they squandered,
And I can’t but wonder,
What does a Nigerian life cost?

The roads have ceased to be pliable,
Death traps are what are now available.
100 people we are told die daily of road accidents,
Yet, the money for road construction has been spent.
Families wail and relatives gnash their teeth,
From the despair of their hearts they ask,
What does a Nigerian life cost?

Day by day, we see wastage of lives,
Death on the streets,
Death in the air,
And even death now reigns supreme in our sacred places of worship.
And yet, no one seems to care,
Wasted lives to God are crying,
What does a Nigerian Life cost?

What does a Nigerian life cost?
20 cenaris? 1 million naira?
Or has it no value at all?

What, i pray thee does a Nigerian life cost?

Ogunjimi James Taiwo

“Off with their heads!”

That single lengthy proclamation

By the heartless Queen of Hearts

Spells doom for many a pawn.

“And they’re off!”

The mindless mob follows its ‘Church mind’ –

‘Bandwagon syndrome’ getting the best of it

As it hurtles headlong to the bottomless pit.

“So far, so good!”

The tale of a thousand years of pain.

Back-breaking work done under sun and rain,

Homeless ones building temples for Nefertiti’s people.

“Are we there yet?”

The children ask their childish fathers.

The promised land looks like it will be farther

Than ‘beyond the Red Sea’, as they’d been told.

“Que sera sera!”

The slogan of sluggards going to sea.

Woe betide he who even attempts to fathom

That he can scoop a drink from a well with his hands.

“Save, my lord king!”

The cry of the afflicted and dying.

“Why die when you can choose life?”

“Why merely survive when you can fluorish?”

“All will be well!”

The proclamation from the heavens –

“Let him have it if he desperately wants it!”

“Let her keep it since she chose it!”

Kunle Oyedele

(Some have suggested that the victims of the Dana plane crash be called martyrs. My reasons for disagreeing.)

NO MARTYRS

They are not martyrs, no, their death
Was void of will.
Nor did they foreknow
Their souls’ arraignment
In the courts of Fire.

Their blood was
Not taken
In sacrificial gourds;
But blackened to soot,
Splattered on scattered stones.

This was no phoenix
In fiery rites
Of self-renewal. No priestly palms
Held the impaling knife. Only
The burning

Of our vice in flight: ill-fitted wings
As Icarus
Reaching to the sun.

And it is a futile loss, I know; bereft
Of truth and justice, as we
Of hearts have been. This raging fire
Will burn out memories
Along with our kin

And passion shall be dead

Till again we count, in stentorian cries
The death of many more
In this self-same fire.

By TONADE TENIOLA
Follow @TeniolaTJTonade

Here we are
Dwelling in the fields of anonymity
Living in abject poverty
Toiling in absolute mediocrity
We daily tolerate our leaders’ profanity,
Their evil wits and devilish dexterity
As they satisfy their twisted depravity.
We’re crumbling under intense adversity,
Daily we face an inevitable mortality
One man against another in fierce animosity
Life has no more quality
To extinction we are blown per diem in sheer brutality

Here we are
Caving in under problems immense
Many a man his mood is pense
Analyzing the situation so tense
The clouds of uncertainty over us are dense
We struggle to make just a bantam of sense
Out of absolute nonsense
Yet everyday chaos seems more intense.
Amidst this ambiguity salvation comes from whence?
Or do we simply hide behind a falling fence?

Here we are
Some people in all these things stoical
Some others have become hysterical
A handful result to movements so radical
Their passion feigned, surely only facial
That it soon becomes comical.
I must not forget the few that are quickly judgemental
Casting the blame on things only political
They easily are loud and vocal
When the status quo becomes abysmal

Here we are
The situation now dire
All sectors continue to misfire
Gradually we sink down the mire
These problems will not simply retire
The evil ones surely will never tire
Therefore as a squire
Ready to fight for what for himself he did acquire
Let’s take the battle down to the wire

Arise ye people!
Shed your cloaks of corruption
Refuse to take more than your deserved ration
Incrimination will always breed an inquisition
Ask the crook, it led to his name’s destruction
Disband from amongst yourselves unnecessary friction
Stand tall in apprehension and tension
Sometimes you don’t get a loud ovation
Sometimes it seems there’s no solution
Still respond to the call of your nation
Together let’s stage an evolution.

There are far better things ahead than we leave behind. It may not seem like it now but through our concerted efforts, every man playing his unique role, refusing to back down to oppression and affliction, refusing to give in to the joneses, believing he can beat the crowd, somehow, one day, the tables will turn for the better.

Aboluwarin Oreoluwa
Follow @oreoluwade on twitter

Sadistic king
Of the interim,
The sceptre is wrested
From your heavy hand
Before your savage scourge
Has tormented me through.
I follow no more
Your blind impulses, o pain;
For your tyranny never lasts
To punish my dissent–
Presently you’re ousted
By the trumpeting
Armies of peace
Or death.

Tonade Teniola
@TeniolaTJTonade on twitter

This poem is in dedication to the victims of the Dana air crash of Sunday, 3^rdJune, 2012. Names are used fictitiously, any resemblance to actual persons is highly coincidental.

They hugged and pecked at the airport,

Love birds, they’d been one for many years,

No kid(s), yet they stuck as glue.

She bade him farewell, heart-warming it was,

She was missing him already but she had another him,

With her, laden and seven months far, she carried their son. Bliss!

He’d touch down in thirty, seal up a deal,

Hop in at his parents’ – The Okoyes,

Attend a meeting on Monday, sign some papers,

Get his cheque, sleep over at a five-star,

Fly back on Tuesday, this was the plan,

Sadly, it never was. Heart-rending.

She loved him profoundly, he was her bestie,

None else seemed near perfect, but him;

Thirteen years of her life, she’d known him,

They met in Uni, far away England,

First as friends, then as lovers, she was twenty,

He was a devout partner, they returned home,

Tribal issues cropped up, he gave her his word,

He kept to it, they tied the knots,

She swore to love him, forever, till death,

Conception issues sprang up, he stood by her, unwavering,

He was her first love, “it’d be fine”, he thought,

And it was, but he didn’t witness,

Between lift-off and now, was the biggest tragedy of her life,

It hit the news in a jiffy, she listened in utter disbelief, “this can’t be real!”

The one she just kissed goodbye, was that a final goodbye? It couldn’t be.

Her heart palpitating with terror, she rang a friend,

She needed company, to jolt her out of her outré dream,

The ill-fated Dana plane had crashed,

Into a building in Lagos, killing all 153 on board,

She was gravely wounded. Somber. Solemn. Downcast.

Her world was crashing, and swiftly too,

In a trice, she faded.

It all went dark.

Bimbo –her friend- got in on time,

Seventy five hours later, the Doc had managed,

With adeptness; to revive her twice,

But it was a double blow, she’d lost the pregnancy,

Her eyes opened finally, she lay on the Hospital bed;

Too weak to move, or think,

Pseudo-silent ambience, little whispers.

“Where is Jim?”, she cuts in, as expected,

Our eyes clash, all four of us – The Doc, Nurse, Bimbo and I.

I get the drift. “He’d be here in a bit”, I answered,

Then we made for the door, leaving the Doc behind.

At this point, I’m struggling to fight back my tears.

He was a gem of a neighbour.

Intelligent. Jovial. Respectful. He didn’t have to go, not this soon.

But for the Dana mishap,

This harrowing tale wouldn’t have been,

It wouldn’t have.

Henry Chybuzor Chuck

Follow @Chybuzor1 on Twitter

Healing Song
(for lost causes, and dissipated dreams)

I hear a song
from within hearts
that struggle to be strong
They weave a song
from threads of pain
betrayal, angst
from shreds of yearnings torn

Dreams:
horsemen fated
to be drowned
with kings
Can you reach my song?

This song for myself, and for me in you
The thing that thinks, and feels, and yearns to be free…
Yearnings, yes, may die, but to yearn remains…
And free forever is the freedom force

Tonade Teniola
@TeniolaTJTonade on twitter

Dark Sun-day
Sad Mourn-day,
Fat Tools-day,
Shall I then go
on national teevee
let the tears flow
flow,
go on
and blow
my nose
for dearly departed
souls
of dearly departed
in-soles
of empty
pews, aisles, roads
burning trucks
what in-sow-lence!
shall I then
cry you a river
shall it cleanse
wash all my sins away
shall I then be
as white as
Willi-Willi
the ghost
tell me Ay-bay-lay
dearie dearest
patiently patience
patented teary one
doctor of the lucky few
sows, goats, fowls
Shall I
squeeze kai-kai
out of dry bones
shall I then
go on bended knees
head bowed
pray
have witchcraft
slapped off
my wet face
(the billion naira slap)
shall I then
not
after so much tears
return to business
as
Usual?

Ayodele Olofintuade

Follow @ayoolofint on twitter

Blog: http://totallyhawaya-haywire.blogspot.com/

Where do we run through, o traveler?

Hooded silhouettes have taken our paths
Strewn our dark ways
And the grey above
With receptacles of blood and limb.

The crawling arthropods get us nowhere
But a land of missed contracts, rheumatism
And a-punctuality.

Breathless too, the waters will be
Till Olokun begins to dance
With the trident and the wreathed horn.

Where then, traveler, do we pass?

They thrust their craft into the clouds
To ride behind the gods’ backyard
And feigned surprise to see their vice
Tossed back to earth by wrath divine.

Since earth and air with fire connive
And water will not betray kin
Where, brother, shall our souls be safe?

Tonade Teniola
@TeniolaTJTonade

I got life on campus
Fairytales to my name
The spitting pen of valour
When you commissioned me
For war of flying words

What pact be this?
When life begets death
And vis?
Double for none
Was the creed

The schyte has come upon us
Who shall console a nation?

(In memory of Mrs. Ngozi Nwozor-Agbo whom we lost at childbirth. Adios, Aunty NG)

Kolo Kenneth Kadiri

@kolokennethkon twitter

Weep Not For Me; Weep For Your Children

Weep not for me o African,
For thy tears in nought will flow.
Weep rather for the future of your children,
Whose tears may never cease to flow.

Weep not for me O African,
The travails thou doth witness are of thy making.
For when thou ought to have spoken,
The courage to resist the evil ones thou was lacking.

Weep not for me O African,
For thy situation doth defy tears.
Sit not still while your continent is burning,
Leave not thy land for them to tear.

Weep not for me O African,
Thy goods on daily basis is looted,
Thy milk and honey everyday is disappearing,
How long shalt thou to the wicked by subjected?

Weep not for me O African,
The ties that bind thee are not yet loosed.
Thy leaders for all thy goods doth yearn,
Yet thou remain mute.

Weep not for me O African,
The best of thy children you have lost.
The best of thy talents have been taken,
When will they come home to roost?

Weep not for me O African,
The time of self-pity has elapsed.
The era of wallowing has ended,
The walk to freedom has begun.

Weep not for me O African,
Let the fathers tell their sons.
Let the mothers tell their daughters,
Africa will rise again.

Weep not for me O African,
Weep rather for your children.
For if this time pass and thou dost not act,
Thy children forever will be lost.

Weep not for me O African,
Tell it on the hills, scream it to the mountains.
Tell it to those who our goods are stealin,
AFRICA WILL RISE AGAIN!!!

Ogunjimi James Taiwo
hullerj@yahoo.com

The New Nigeria Anthem

Have you heard of the new Nigeria?

A land flowing with milk and honey,

The envy of other lands, from Asia to America,

Where the land is green and sky forever sunny,

The undisputable giant of Africa.

I am a citizen of the new Nigeria,

A land of enduring peace and tranquility,

Where religion or tribe are no criteria,

And brothers live together in love and unity,

As we serve our fatherland in blissful euphoria.

Listen to my tale of the new Nigeria,

And let these words change your perception.

Here justice cannot be bought with Naira,

And neither room for depravity nor corruption,

Honesty and integrity do we adorn in royal regalia.

Come with me to the new Nigeria,

And experience our pleasant hospitality,

As happiness flows from the court of Thalia,

It doesn’t matter to us your nationality,

Come enjoy with us our idyllic arcadia.

Come be a part of the new Nigeria,

Together we shall thrive and make progress,

Visitors are welcome from Europe to Australia,

Tongue or tribe are no barrier to success,

Hardwork and diligence our sole insignia.

Ogunyemi Bukola

Follow @zebbook on twitter

WAR CRY

(Olaitan Oyerinde, the Personal Secretary to Governor Adams Oshiomole of  Edo State, was murdered by unknown gunmen in Benin on May 4 and he was laid to rest on Thursday, May 10, in Ede, Osun State,  amid tears and eulogies)

He’s gone without saying goodbye,

The fire snuffed out, the ashes blown away,

The barrage of lead his mortal flesh could not defy,

To their malicious customs has he fallen prey,

Thus by shine or shower we ceaselessly mourn,

Despondent, miserable, bereaved and forlorn.

But for how long shall we fold our arms,

And continue to seethe under oppression,

For how long shall the guns rotten in the shade,

While the oafish birds shit on our heads,

Much good would have suffered ruin,

Before the earth destroys the wicked.

Heirloom of potentates and despotic dynasties,

Niche comfiest for the nocturnal marauders,

The company of thieves ensconced to revel in revelries,

Yet thus demented with every devious art,

To charm the fancy and endear the unwary heart,

The home and the brook humbugged by the prima facie vista.

The twigs snap not except a cause there be

From whence, and why these eerie cannonade?

Mother-hen and the hawks in unwholesome alliance,

Lo, night and day at the marriage altar,

Corollary to the dogmatic rhetoric of cornucopic dawn,

The owls have indeed awakened the crowing cock.

The drum is now beating wildly pit-a-pat,

Too incongruous for the royal masquerade to do his dance,

Trousers are pulled up, but the flood soaks you still,

What matters then, wither you go now, or where you turn?

He that does not want strange footsteps in his backyard,

Must fence it up, and further raise the fort.

Because of the deaf the cloud blackens before it rains,

Thunder rumbles for the sake of the blind,

The earth is no realm for cowardice,

Sooner or later war is imminent,

A war foretold does not kill a wise lame,

So let the hare perfect its race,

Let the porcupine carefully craft its calabash.

Light not your candles to mourn his death,

Rather sharpen your swords and prepare for war,

Take off your sack-cloths and dust off the ashes,

Lest we be easy quarries in the hands of the slayer,

Blow the dust off your guns and tie your amulets,

The rules have changed, the hunter now the prey.

Whoever kills a vulture lives not to see another year,

Whoever hunts a phoenix does not live to see another moon,

If death strikes on the right,

Obaluaye let me hear a cry from the house of Olaitan’s killers,

If pestilence strikes on the left,

Orisa-nla spare not the shed of the evil doers.

Let nothing hurt us; the gods say let nothing hurt us,

The earthworm tried to hurt us and now it has no legs,

The snake tried to hurt us; now it crawls and eats dust,

The back of tripod-stones is no habitation of snails,

The vulture maintains he is no bird for rituals,

The cat says its back is not for the ground.

We are like the small round pot; that which is far upstream,

It is Ogun that said it must not be broken,

Fire never dies in the billow’s presence,

The least of snakes is never trapped in a thicket,

It is to and fro that the hand scrubs the mouth,

Safety is ours, disaster the lot of our enemies.

Protection is ours, calamity the lot of Nigeria’s enemies.

Ogunyemi Bukola

@zebbook

Oh I will get rich, these times will I survive
It’s my less privileged neighbours I’m scared might not thrive
For old wounds are being tilled up, old enemies are revived
A war is brewing, deep within the cabal’s hive
So why remove the subsidy before probing the scam
I get it, we are test subjects, some kinda sacrificial lamb

They drain our trillions and expect us to keep calm?
They murder our futures and ignore our farms
I’m a grown man living with my parents
For I have no income, not one to pay rents
Even the banks are merging, and the staffs shoved outta the vents
Our greatness is dying and our reputation is hell bent
I try not to talk politics, I try not to watch from the sidelines
This situation is killing my dreams, yet I choose to be fine
they killed it all, where are the refineries, dams and mines?
A stitch in time they call it, let’s see it save nine
Let’s see the outcome of the probe, let us see
Let’s see the culprits and the cabal, let us see
Let’s put a face on the cankerworms, let us see
They promised us justice, can they just let us see?
They wanna decide our fates,they want to set us free
We demand an audience, to sieve their shopping spree
They wanna shut us up with some new decree
They wanna hynotise us…please let us be
We have a timid and confused torch bearer
Shoeless and clueless, learned and intimidated leader
With little or no cajones, to stand firm on his descisions
Stand up today,lend a voice and claim your freedom

From tha Rev [www.tharev.wordpress.com ]

THE FINAL WHISTLE; A TRIBUTE TO RASHIDI YEKINI

The Iroko has fallen, but not without a trace,

Let other trees in salute their branches raise,

As the forest birds loudly sing his praise,

Telling the tale of his rise from grass to grace,

And of how well he ran the race,

Till God welcomed him with a warm embrace.

Devoted his life to the round-leather game,

For sheer fun he put goalkeepers to shame,

To get to the very top was his ultimate aim,

With grit and determination he made his name,

Leaving behind the slum from which he came,

Onto the world stage to spread his fame.

The whistle has sounded,

His life unbounded,

The game has ended,

His recorded untainted,

The scores are counted,

His fans astounded.

He was born before his time,

His nation in gratitued he owed not a dime,

Not celebrated because he committed no crime,

Forgotten by the land he so served in his prime,

Till his body was given up to earths slime,

To your fiery shots do I dedicate this rhyme.

Close his eyes and lay him to rest,

Bid him farewell, he’s gone from earth’s nest,

Herald the angels to receive heaven’s guest,

For his nation and people he did his best,

Let the land mourn, form East to West,

The legendary lion has ended his quest.

Ogunyemi Olaitan Bukola

@zebbook

EVIL ISLAND

Mayday! Mayday!  It shouted, screaming out it guts, trembling like ??an eruption scenario,
Swerving for balance despite the looming crash, waiting like ??a disaster about to happen,
All these streaming thoughts at the devil’s frequency is really ??a crazy driving, losing control is welcoming negativity.
This land is ??a fertile soil, and only the issues of life grows here, trespass not ye corrupt seeds,
Only bountiful harvest abounds here.
Don’t pull  me towards your centre you evil gravity,
See no evil, read no evil, it only breeds corruption and births the same.
Anathema to the godly, pessimistic, and cynical, it all comes easy because the way to destruction is broad, harboring it all. But being good takes ??a mammoth effort,rugged and narrow is the way.
We are our thoughts,
Our thought is our limitation and our freedom,
I choose to be free,
I take on my guards onward,
I guard my mind.

‘gbenga Fisher

@fishergbenga

QUANTUM LEAP
Never again in the shadows of my dream,
Never again with the wishing wand,
Never again with lamps and jinnis
I pack them all to the garage
I treat them as ??a clunker.
Stepping out into the light of day,
Fought through the night, breaking forth the raging and stormy waters,
I sail my own boat with help from above,
I sail it to the calmness of the day.
Let the shores taste your salt once more,
Let babies come forth,
Let the dreams grow flesh,
Let the flesh inhale and exhale,
I Want to walk on the waters but I see no paths, I look up to the sun and there my path lies.
I see no steps but I take them anyway,
I see no ladder but I climb anyway,
I see no reason but I believe anyway,
Meleé is now being aborted,
the falconer will now hear the falconess,
the bride will walk down the isle,
Its time to reach beyond my reach,
I looked, I shut the fear door,
I embraced faith,
I take a leap

Gbenga Fisher

Golden droplets of rain,
golden rays of sun,
Plate me all over, let me shine as d sun.
Dusk came,and it seem I’d just faded out,but then I came out, ??the star ,the darker the brighter.
The jockey I  am,the stallion I ride, the victory I take.
Like the liberty that escaped the chains of tyranny,I held her touch and I brought freedom.
I am the champion d wise men of Old talked about,
When I appear,mothers hasten their children to come see,
Stories of me travel before me,
envy of every lad, desire of every virgin,
the earth acknowledge my every step,
Nature pay homage in their accord,
the wind whistle to my song,
My victory song on every tongue,
Won, not by swiftness, neither by arrow nor spears.
Battle already won,victory only bestowed,
This is my trophy, but never my fight.

At Georgia river, ??a plain state Of lonesome serenity,
Epitome of ??a tranquil soul,
Green lawn trimmed and mowed,
Were else would the waters pour from above,
At Georgia river, couples long for its sensitive feel,
Blokes knelt with their ring and maidens blush wit joy,
Fate sealed and stamped on the sands of time,
At Georgia river, clannish whites fraternize with colored men,
Charmed by its awesome serenity, they all threw caution to the wind.
Ancestors uphold its warmness, and descendants, ??a chip off the old block.

‘Gbenga Fisher

In the Book of Revolution,
Chapter Truth verse Revelation:

‘Politics is far from luck
The game is hard as rock’

‘The ruling are but without clues
Their reign like games without rules
They feign to grant their own dues
Alas! Their people have no shoes.

They lie, they loot our coffers
And smash the hope that buffers.
The trust we had to offer
Has swindled us to suffer

But now we know the rule
Cos’ we’ve clung to school
We ‘occupy’ the news
To repeal the abuse!

In the book of revolution
We draw our strength,
Our will and stimulation
Enough of this dent!

Courtesy: Valentine O. Ogunaka
(Writer, Musician, Blogger)

All around it began to spread,
Have you read? Have you heard?
The velocity was intense,
Much more than burning incense.

All thought it was a rumour,
Even joked ’bout it with humour;
Never knew it’ll in the coming days,
Stare as a reality in my face.

Now that it came strong
Gathering from every nook &corn,momentum
The decision not to leave my ivory tower,
Was already beyond my grasp and power.

So straight-away I arrived
In a place I could refer to as mine;
Always wanted to be here
But this time,the reasons were not clear.

Had fun and moments in which I reveled,
Thinking to make the best before the hols ended;
Little did I know the strike was here to stay,
That it’ll not end in d soonest days.

My heart reeks of the words my pen speaks,
seems though there’s no way outta this disarray;
All efforts have not with yield come forth
So I ask,when would we in happiness bask?

Why on earth would a set of minds & hearts,
Ignore with tact the tomorrow’s leaders’ cries & pants?
Why would the future of THE FUTURE,
lie on d altar of strikes waiting to be ruptured?

Did our leaders not get a hint or lead?
No intel/inkling from those in power’s seat
Of the repercussion of these insensitive actions
that will suction the glory of the future of our nation?

Who will give an ordinance for our long anticipated deliverance?
Who will break the impasse and give us appropriate significance?
My heart’s heavy in no petty way,
I want to see with glee,my beloved Nigeria great again!

Written by Yemi Akinteye,19,300level
Bio-Chemistry student of Olabisi Onabanjo University

Steve Jobs said some pretty amazing things in public forums, whether it was during an interview or during a speech.

Wired and the Wall Street Journal shared some great roundups of their favorite Steve Jobs quotes earlier this year when he stepped down from the CEO job, and we selected a few that were especially awesome.

Incredible words from an incredible businessman, designer, and fellow human

Having pride in your product
“It takes these very simple-minded instructions—‘Go fetch a number, add it to this number, put the result there, perceive if it’s greater than this other number’––but executes them at a rate of, let’s say, 1,000,000 per second. At 1,000,000 per second, the results appear to be magic.”

[Playboy, Feb. 1, 1985]

On design
“It’s really hard to design products by focus groups. A lot of times, people don’t know what they want until you show it to them.”

[BusinessWeek, May 25, 1998]

The best sales line ever?
“Do you want to spend the rest of your life selling sugared water or do you want a chance to change the world?”

[The line he used to lure John Sculley into becoming Apple’s CEO, according to Odyssey: Pepsi to Apple]

On character
“I’m the only person I know that’s lost a quarter of a billion dollars in one year…. It’s very character-building.”

[Apple Confidential 2.0]

On good design
“That’s been one of my mantras — focus and simplicity. Simple can be harder than complex: You have to work hard to get your thinking clean to make it simple. But it’s worth it in the end because once you get there, you can move mountains.”

[BusinessWeek, May 25, 1998]

On his outlook
“Being the richest man in the cemetery doesn’t matter to me … Going to bed at night saying we’ve done something wonderful… that’s what matters to me.”

[The Wall Street Journal, May 25, 1993

On his role at Apple
“This is not a one-man show. What’s reinvigorating this company is two things: One, there’s a lot of really talented people in this company who listened to the world tell them they were losers for a couple of years, and some of them were on the verge of starting to believe it themselves. But they’re not losers. What they didn’t have was a good set of coaches, a good plan. A good senior management team. But they have that now.”

[BusinessWeek, May 25, 1998

Having pride in your product
Playboy: “Are you saying that the people who made PCjr don’t have that kind of pride in the product?”

Jobs: “If they did, they wouldn’t have made the PCjr.”

[Playboy, Feb. 1, 1985]

He’ll always come back
“I’ll always stay connected with Apple. I hope that throughout my life I’ll sort of have the thread of my life and the thread of Apple weave in and out of each other, like a tapestry. There may be a few years when I’m not there, but I’ll always come back.”

[Playboy, Feb. 1, 1985]

Have faith in the future
“You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.”

[Stanford commencement speech, June 2005]

On your working life
“Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Don’t settle. As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don’t settle.”

[Stanford commencement speech, June 2005]

On the importance of death
“No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life’s change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.”

[Stanford commencement speech, June 2005]

Don’t sit still
“I think if you do something and it turns out pretty good, then you should go do something else wonderful, not dwell on it for too long. Just figure out what’s next.”

[NBC Nightly News, May 2006]

On ruptured walls in a crying society
Lay water-washed, fading images
Of local famous crooks, decried of larceny
Who for the sake of cast votes, ran off our rustic vicinity

On policed streets, are polymer notes of twenty naira
Travelling from hand to hand, and into deep black pockets
Potholed roads with hollows mighty enough to swallow careless goats
Sit in the asphalted earth, with the looks of bald cheated gentlemen

In the neighbourhood, are boreholes that are bored of waterworks
The animated taps that once hissed, belched and rumbled
Have all grown quiet and suffer the insomnia of aqua current
With a faint grumble if touched, and a sober whisper if forced

Under green trees and leaking roofs, children listen and teachers teach
So, inside exam halls, pupils whisper and students sing answers
And why utter wasted words, asking empty questions on why they still fail?
When they know nothing, cram something and still fail anything?

The shared efforts are borne by a few, while many want the money
Few are stung by the bees but one million in 150 places want the honey
Fire! Fire! Fire! Call the fire brigade to come quench this fire!
You and I are the fire fighters, and we must quench this fire.

Unspoken Truth

Call him meagre
But I have seen a man eat soaked garri with bitter leaves
Call her promiscuous
But I have seen a beautiful girl flirt with occult strangers
Call them yahoo merchants
But I have seen young boys get rich quick
Call them old bastards
But I have seen elderly men plan a political rig
The innocent is pulled into a pool of sin
The righteous is polluted by the evil man’s felony

Nothing is impossible
Whether good or bad
Both has a best of its kind

And fools are everywhere
But wise men are scarce and quiet
You never know them until they speak
Robbers have become righteous men
They pay tithes of all their loots
Witches have become popular saints
They gather to wail for the nation
Nincompoops have become intelligent men
They advise leaders in their private quarters

I have heard of it
But I am yet to see a man die for justice
We all want to see grey hairs fall off our coward heads

It may have happened in my absence
But I am yet to see a beauty wed a pauper
They all want an affiliation with a moneyed family

History has it that
A man once ruled a nation from inside an ambulance
He supposedly sent orders while in the state of comma
And his woman did well, keeping the constitution away from everyone’s reach
Until her husband gave up the ghost
Letting go of his hold unto the presidential crown

Yet, we claim to have done all we can
We boast of how things used to be and tell wonderful tales that bore our children
Our memory cannot relate the present pictures with the past glories

We complain from the comfort of our beds
We make noise like inexperienced pregnancy bearers
Being scolded by novice melancholic midwives

But for how long shall we sit, playing a broken fiddle?
What else will they do, if our ordinary rights seem wrong to claim?
Who else will tame the youths if we do not tame ourselves?

We cannot call them foolish because we ourselves have been fooled
We cannot call them stupid because we ourselves must be pitied
Lines and light have fallen unto us in crooked places

I ask for pain and punishment for my enemies
When my own sin needs forgiving and many Mercies
When next I pray, I’ll ask God’s mercy for all men
We need your mercy Lord, ten in every ten
Forgive and have mercy. Heal our land Lord

I search for a woman, a tall beautiful diva
When I should seek for a wife, virtuous and clever
When next I search, I’ll look for one better than I am
A help mate, like my hand to my palm
My ways deserve none but for Your Grace

I spend time and resources building a house
With no home, trouble in my house Lord help douse
When next I build, I’ll build for me only a home
A home finds a house, no house finds a home
Lord build me a home, help me find a house

In grief, I look to the world for my happiness
When my heart holds its joy as its weakness
I need not weep, nor give up when I can move on
Like my life, I’ll make my joy at every turn
Dear Lord, help express the joy in every heart

Lord, teach us what to ask
Help us the prayer to say for every task
Your mercy not our will, Your grace not our strength
Your wealth not fading riches, not drugs but sound health
Never to doubt You, teach us everyday
Teach us to say ‘‘THANK YOU’’

I do not own a mansion in Dubai’s Palm Island
Nor do I boast a land in Nigeria’s Banana Island
Yet I feel no less prosperous than those who do
That my life is beautiful is because of You
I’ll sing in praise of Your Majestic Splendour

When sin and failure would not let me be
Your Mercy was all I felt and could see
In my weakness I lived on Your strength
Without a shelter I dwelt in your tent
I’ll shout in honour of Your Mighty works

When I could afford nothing, even a meal
You laid before me a feast like a hill
Men thought me wretched, I knew me rich
You bless the birds, flowers You adorned each
I’ll praise You, my whole life I will

Make me Yours all my days and ways
Let your love lead me through this life race
Help me see your face, let me hear your word
Age to age, earth to Heaven you are my God
I’ll live in Praise of You. Alleluia Forever

I see waters over seas, I see men over nations
I see life beautiful despite its dirt and penury
I breathe the same air as wicked men who’ll ruin the world
I wonder what difference I offer for a better place
I walk their land, I swim their seas
I talk like them, so think as one of them
Now I know I am just like every sinner
Nothing of my making makes me better

Across the world, my words travel through the net
For each sane one, I offer another in sin
I sleep around with women I ought to teach
I teach men in words, but they learn from my actions
I am as dirty as the dumpsites of the old Lagos
I want to live right yet again I turn left
Now I know it’s beyond me
Only Your touch will make me better

Lord welcome to my heart, heal my soul, use my mind
Christ have your way, my mortal strength fails me
Cleanse me and make my heart and mind pure
I see no devil, only my selfishness and frailty
Make my darkness as bright as the noon day
My light as the Glory of your presence
Lift me and make me yours alone.

Our ways are different from Heaven’s path
Our Justice and Peace are divided in parts
To keep peace, we kill men, maim women, destroy children
Justice is one for the rich, one for the poor and another for our brethren
Our ways are different and different from right

For the Love of ourselves, we kill another
An eye for an eye until darkness becomes the order
To heal one, we hurt another. A child or the mother
A nation is only rich because it can milk another
Our ways are different and different from right

A mother dies in want and penury
The child calls for a celebration and a party
He says to celebrate her life, when she could have lived celebrated
We live like with no heart, like a mind sated
Our ways are different and different from right

Through the ages we are yet to conquer
One last enemy and still we look and wonder
Who man’s last enemy could be. The one who will stop man
Man’s only enemy is man.
He seeks many ways, yet goes the one different from right

My heart knows so much pain
So much pain my mind cannot fathom
Time tastes bitter and life like ewuro
Like ewuro I am told to expect some joy some day
The anguish my eyes see
The sights my sense feels
People moving and ending nowhere
Men working and earning nothing.
Ending nowhere and earning nothing
Living life through struggles
They know what to do
They know to do
They do
All their efforts end in nought
Children are living to die
Parents are dying to live
Fat thieves live on their common wealth
To share a common wealth they live in poverty
In poverty through an endless wealth
They are blessed or so it seems
Endless wealth it seems but cursed by their rulers
It seems by their rulers but I see the people
They know not, they care not
They want to live today without care for tomorrow
They care not for tomorrow, tomorrow comes
For tomorrow comes with pain and anguish
The day they see another flicker
They sing like they have a messiah
Their messiah turns another monster
Whether in khaki or in agbada
The people sing the same song
They start with hope
Their songs end in pain
They sing a song of pain
Doctors will not be resident
Teachers will not be scabs
Still the motor of a nation moves on
The nation moves on the path of agony
Mothers are dying fathers don’t want to live
Children are born to die
Adults die like they never were born
Death gets the blame when they die
Tell me what death kills a man without health and care
What death kills a child hunger kills
Death comes to them they care no more
They know already too many deaths
Roads have their traps
Work places are slave harbours
Homes are club houses
Darkness reigns supreme but light does blink
The plateau flows with blood
Yet people’s children are sent to their death
In service to the nation death serves them
I want to live
I want to think
To work my mind in production
To live for me, knowing survival means serving men
To live to think cannot be, without freedom
Without freedom men die as slaves
Five multiples of ten says the calendar
Yet our lives say we yet know no independence
Our lives are controlled from the center
The center of sleaze and moochers
The home of thieves who catch little thieves
Our future is traded in their chambers
They say our experiment is nascent
We ask how nascent is a decade?
A poor old farmer becomes President
In eight nascent years becomes a dollar sign billionaire
Nascent sounds like another home grown term
Another home grown term is our democracy
A democracy that has nothing for the people
Nothing for the people means not by the people
Not by the people means not of the people
If this is Lincoln’s democracy, is ‘Do or die’ its tenet?
Another cycle turns
Here they come in their numbers
You know it’s that time when people get killed
People get killed by armed robbers
By armed robbers who are armed not to rob
Who are armed not to rob but to kill? You know them
They are the foxes of the cannibals
The harbinger of battles for the soul of power
The soul of power that feeds on death
We shout our size -the biggest this and that
We forget to say we are big but for nothing
Africa calls for our lead yet we offer the motherland a giant
A giant too big to move, too big to lead
Hear their song of praise
In praise of thieves and murderers
When finally we see their coronation
Their song of praise becomes that of pain
Pain for hunger, the hunger they fed with gifts for votes
Gifts of votes becomes that of pain
Another four years to wait for another chance
Another chance comes without a chance for democracy
Old mind-tired men refuse to let youth lead
They cry about today like they knew not what they did yesterday
For democracy yesterday they truncated
Like God, they decided against the wish of the people
They look different
It’s their look, they are same in their heart
A heart that feels no joy
Men who feel no pain
Mind-tired men yet virile for more destruction
This is my song of pain
Pain for my people
For my people refuse to see
This is my song of pain
Pain for their rulers
For their rulers don’t know to lead
But only men to their death
Children to their early graves
Young people to destruction
A nation to shame and penury
A people without direction
Who will change my song?
Who will change the sound?
The time comes again
My people look to see
Only they see nothing but today
Tomorrow comes soon enough
Nothing but today they see
Soon enough to hear again
My song of pain
Their pain that knows no gain
No gain but cries, cries and sorrow, sorrow and tears
More blood in homes, men working without pay
Without pay they demand for something to vote
They forget that he gives a little to loot their future
Our Niger area has come so far
I wonder how far we have to go
Like that ewuro with its bitterness
I hope this bitterness ends like that of the bitter-leaf
Like the bitter-leaf, I hope my song ends in Joy.

PS: ewuro is the Yoruba term for bitter-leaf.

Hey Sweets,

You open and close my heart like a seal.
On this very day my hope is frail yet hard to kill.
I will try, now not outta ambition nor pride but outta love driven by a passion that cannot die.
You may fly or even soar at the rhythm of my hearty beats, but i know one day, one day soon, day, night and noon, our love in union will light a fire.

while i wait, you fill and empty my heart like an unpaid bill. In love,fear and sorrow my incompleteness is real. I feel, I see your love yet it looks surreal, like an illusion, a mirage without dimensional vision it looks unreal.
Now I wish the skies could chase my fears,just with a whisper of your love to my ears. I thought I had blocked my heart but you found the key and now I’m unlocked. Now I know my story is more than a history lost in heartbreaks. I’m yours, wholly and completely to make or break but be holy enough when you choose your take. Atleast for our sake love me, like divinity love me without bounds till infinity. My love for you is immortal so I can wait till the date we dance to fate and with faith do our love forever…I love you,even when you don’t believe in the world and words, believe this eight letter sentence of three words, I love you…Miss ???

@omojuwa

I have since stopped to wonder ever since I knew it’d take forever
In My quest to get off this rat race, I did a few things of disgrace
But with your Love so tender, I always get back in order
Each passing day after every walk along the depths of evil
I offer My prayers but the devil tells me it’s drivel
A fool he is ‘cause I know I live on Mercy’s kiss.

Living on Mercy’s kiss in bliss, keeps me clean from disease
Breathing on your Grace , makes every pain a passing phase
The Grace of your Mercy is the reason they envy
Each passing moment ,in and after every torment
I am draped in your garment but the devil says it’s for a moment
A fool he is ‘cause I know forever I’ll live in Mercy’s bliss.

Living in Mercy’s bliss and kiss ,out of sin and in peace
Looking at your face makes victory even in an unfinished race
The Mercy of your everlasting Grace is all it takes
Each time the tune plays through My phone
I bask in the message of Mercy like a bird freed from a cage
Mercy says no to every fear I know.

Mercy says no as You won’t let me go
Even when I am not in tow, still Your love you show
It shows, it glows and the world knows
Each sin, each fall and through it all I hear you call
I look to your coming as evil prepares for its burning
Your Mercy I’ll know as Your love You’ll show

Inspired by ‘Mercy said no’ a song by Cece Winans. It’s one song I’ve heard everyday as a new message drops In My phone for almost 2 years. My life is a project sustained by God’s everlasting Mercy. I think yours too but only you can tell

I should not have left you bereft of my presence
Why would I leave you without the aura of my essence
I longed to be wrapped in the warmth of your heart
I walked , ran , jumped ,hopped and even soared
I could not get to you as tears from my eyes poured
I’m sorry in truth as I did hurt you in fact.

Like that sweet song we both love to sing
Put the blame on me as long as I keep your ring
To see your face, I tried to come through many ways
I punched the pads, dialled the numbers knelt and prayed
My feet hurt ,my fingers and heart bled even as time delayed
I am sorry my love and I will be all of my days

I am sorry my sweet candy and this I know
I will do all within and all I can to never leave you alone
If I break these words, let my heart fail me
I will swim the seas, walk the earth and fly through the heavens
Just so we can be together as I sing to you blissful tunes
Touch my parts and taste my heart as yours forever I’ll be.

I should not have left you bereft of my presence

Why would I leave you without the aura of my essence

I longed to be wrapped in the warmth of your heart

I walked , ran , jumped ,hopped and even soared

I could not get to you as tears from my eyes poured

I’m sorry in truth as I did hurt you in fact.

Like that sweet song we both love to sing

Put the blame on me as long as I keep your ring

To see your face, I tried to come through many ways

I punched the pads, dialled the numbers knelt and prayed

My feet hurt ,my fingers and heart bled even as time delayed

I am sorry my love and I will be all of my days

I am sorry my sweet candy and this I know

I will do all within and all I can to never leave you alone

If I break this words ,let my heart fail me

I will swim the seas, walk the earth and fly through the heavens

Just so we can be together as I sing to you blissful tunes

Touch my parts and taste my heart as yours forever I’ll be.