"Crossroads"

 

"Crossroads"

Heart pacing here and there

Like a pregnant deer in labour

But fear throws its bands on her 

So truth is born a stillborn

How do I begin to bare this hopes

Woven around my mind like tensed spider webs

For is no freedom in being free

It only strengthen the chains that desires to bind us.

Freedom call is desirous

Letting caged words fly abroad

Towards the ears that they were meant for

Jarred by the potency of fear.

So, I will let this anger speak in silence

Let time's strokes cure this madness

With hope that you won't be blind

To all these actions on the feet of fear.

"Armed Men"

 Armed men"

In the middle of a cold night,

Hands clutched on our lovers

And our lovers on us

Birds in a distant singing gleeful songs,

Stars smiling down on us

Everything flowing in its own tranquility.

Then, we heard gun shots

and our heartbeat became still

We ran towards the window

Peeping cautiously so they don't see our eyes.

We saw them,

men in black with bloodshot eyes and a hard look

And then we saw their haggard van

Smelling of weed and cruelty

The Police!!!

We boiled in our fear

As they dragged the corpse of the man along

Like a mutilated sacrifice

We overheard the wife saying something about money not given, 

And furniture scattered in the house

She had a baby in hand and a teen beside 

All made mourners in the middle of this night.

We watched silently as our ambassadors of peace leaves

Having brought war down to our doorsteps.

20/ 10/ 2020"

 

"20/ 10/ 2020"

As the long hand of the clock

Sluggishly climbs to seven

Flags swaying to the melody of the national song

And protesters bowing to the compatriotic spirit

Suddenly armoured vans troops into the crowd

Like starved wolves, to loose mayhem on the people

No warning was sounded, 

No one was persuaded to leave

But they clung onto their triggers 

Like blind bats, to rip the flag and its bearers apart.

Blood flowed like a river,

Tears stream from patriotic faces,

Beholding fellow brothers maimed by the lords of peace

Certain no camera saw their evil acts

And no light were there to expose their darkness

These wild men of war,

Return to their masters at the Villa

With trophies of gun soaked with the blood of the young.

*******

With phoney innocence on their faces,

They mounted the podium to address the world,

They said guns don't kill people

They only shot to disperse the gathering cloud.

Everyone nodded and the world goes on.

"Giant Wound"

 

"Giant Wound"

At the feet of a giant nation

Lies a great boil

Dripping with pus and blood.

Decades of sheer neglect 

Has heighten the stench of its rottenness

And all remedy seems to fall short.

What good is your strength when you can't walk?

What good is your vision, when you can't run?

What good are your riches, when you can't enjoy them in peace?

The facade of their admiration

Has blinded you from your need to heal

So you saunter about like an antiquated peacock.

The world you once attracted flees from you

No one wishes to stand your fall to shame.

Except your praise singers 

Whose voices will grow dim when your feet touches the dust of your grave.

Would you not heed the call in your soul?

Would you not listen to your sons and daughters bearing placards of hope?

Or would you let the fading stories of your glory days

Lull you into perpetual silence?

"Soro Soke"

 

"Soro Soke" (Battle Cry)

Soro soke!

It is the dawn we have been waiting for,

A dawn where darkness bows to light,

And the wicked at the feet of the righteous.

Soro soke!

We are done with the silence,

We are done with the fake smiles,

We are done with hoping in their dead promises.

Soro soke!

The giants have risen in the form of a youth, 

Taking bold strides through dreaded places,

Taking back our land and her freedom.

Soro soke!

Our voices will be louder than their threats,

Our crowd will march and not fret,

For our faith in eachother will fetch us a better fate.

Soro soke!

Death can stop this cry,

Guns can shoot this might,

Prison houses can hold this overdue wrath.

Soro soke!

It is a chant born in every generation,

It is a chant of freedom,

It is a battle cry that awakens fallen and living heroes.

Soro soke!

A ceaseless prayer on our lips,

But if no one else answers,

We will become our own gods

And heed the cry of the nation. 

"The struggle"

"The Struggle"

9 a.m on a dull Tuesday morning,
I walked with a heavy head,
I've been carrying this for a while now,
Something common to men of my status,
Scamperring at the feet of the scavengers at the top of the national bounty,
They come with tummies tucked inside and mouth full of fairytale,
But leave pregnant with our wealth,
And then hands it over as a heirloom to their kind.

This knowledge is the weight we carry everyday in restrained silence,
To speak is to die,
The death of the poor fades like the morning haze,
So we choose to let our silence live,
Than die as an unsung activist.

But our mind finds no repose,
The warrior within wants to pounce,
The outcome of the dice is to take it back,
This fight we know will leave beyond us,
It will be for those coming behind us,
They will hear of our feats,
and our courage to decide our faith.

They will learn from us to have a mouth that speaks,
And a voice crying at every corner of the street
Demanding justice and fairness never yielding to the bridle of any kind,
So we will shout, we will march, we will call out,
We will live through every moment
Knowing that death wasn't forced on us by a bleak fate
But a choice we made for the struggle, for our liberation.

#Poetryofjustice
#ENDSARSNOW
#ReformThePolice

"The Soul of Freedom"

 

"The Soul of Freedom"

The morning on our creation day

Had the charming face of a young cheetah

But ran in the pace of a snail.

Who would have known that the trophy of independence

That we fell over eachother in celebration of

Will tighten again the locks of slavery yet the more?

We cried of faces white as the moon

But not anymore, not anymore

Our own faces bear our nightmare.

The stranger's whip has departed our soil

But our brother's sting us like a scorpion

And this pain eats deep into our soul.

The soul of the African,

The soul presumed to be free

But every corner in chains and in pains.

The soul battered by many years of loots and lies,

A soul hungry yet in plenty

A soul unknown to itself.

Do you know that the patched map of our soul strung together

Were the wild guess of an overfed white boy

Drooling over riches untapped within our borders?

Every memorial of you 

Is like a sword that pierces deep into

This self-inflicted wound lying brashly in our soul.

Your freedom song will never cease

Till all your sons trace back the footpath

Where we betrayed the bond of true brotherhood.

This hope lost we never die

It will sail onwards doggedly

Till we reach the shores of true Independence.