nauto5:
I see

What do you see?

LUGER:
Me running to JJC junction to look for a certain Williams and JB like.......

Lol keep looking.

Today's Monday.


I don't remember much these days, but I have a vivid recollection of the happenings of the day before today, and I remember that it started with speakers and drums and incessant shouting in the name of worship: a church. They can only keep that energy on a Sunday, so today is Monday.


If you add that to the crowd in the evening at Solidas, then later at Edge, and then rounding up at the Witches Parlour, you'd know that could only happen on a Sunday or on festive days. Christmas and Easter and all the other stupid days are long gone. So it could only be Sunday. So, today's Monday. 


I read a statistic that said most cases of heart failures occur on Mondays. That's for people with daily jobs. Mondays are usually busy, but you know that already. I've never had a daily job, so I'm lacking in the experience, but every day I have a job, well, I don't know how to describe the feeling anymore. 


Truth is, I don't feel anxious anymore.


That's understating it. I don't feel anything anymore.


I haven't been sober since God knows when, and though today's Monday and it's 5AM, I'm on my second roll of weed, 900MG of tramol already coursing through my veins, a broomstick of cocaine already done and dusted, not to talk of the Emzo. I feel normal. That's because I can't recall my sober days.


Today's Monday, and I have a job today.


I've been on a drug run for more than a year, and I haven't had any decent sleep for like a week, but I still feel normal. My lifestyle is kind of lavish, and if you add two and two together, you'd realize whatever I do to fund this lifestyle, it's the direct opposite of legal. 


Don't even judge me yet. I'm not different from your politicians. Okay. I rob. Sometimes people die when they try to act tough, or they die to make a statement, but it's not premeditated. It's spontaneous, it's accidental, always. Your politicians make decisions that leads to the loss of thousands and thousands of lives, intentionally. I may be a thief, but I read the news. I don't remember Saturday's headlines, or I'm not sure, but I remember yesterday's. I'm not saying I'm good, I'm just saying clap for me the way you clap for politicians. When you catch me and lynch me, please administer the same treatment to your politicians.


Today's Monday. And we have a line. I and the rest of the boys. And if it's successful, we may likely have #7m each, to burn for the week. Dear Yahoo boy, don't you feel like swapping places? Oh, don't tell me your answer!


My apologies to whoever is going to read this. My name is JB. That's all I've been called for years. I don't remember being called anything else. JB could be for Johnbull, or John Brute or JagaBan or anything. All I know is I'm JB. I'm 20. I'm about 5'8 tall, with a chocolate skin which turns dark when I'm on cream strike. People say I have cute bow legs, I don't see it though. I dropped out in primary school, I know that, because that's when I first stole something. You never forget your first steal after growing a little sense.


As I squatted close to Effurun River, taking a dump, my head kept replaying what should be the day's activities. I have a job today.


And the schedule is like this: by 7AM, we'd have cruised the street for the 5th time. 7:30AM, the car should be backing out into the road from the plaza, and by 7:45AM, they'd be yelling "Thief!" up and down the road. By 8:30AM, we should be clear. And by 12PM, we should be in the hotel, getting high, waiting for our linkup to come, then we "Vasa". Life is easy, right? But like every plan, things are bound to go awry in the die minutes.


I completed my task, cleaned up, lit one stick of white Oris, felt the wind moving, and I could barely stand straight. The path that leads out is somehow hilly, but with as much voltage as I could muster, I moved ahead. Made it to the roadside without falling, I don't ever fall, no matter how high I get. I moved towards JJC junction, eyes barely opened, but very much alert: you don't stay alive in this game without it. I'd finished the stick of cigarette, and as I stood by the junction, I scanned the road.


I felt cold.


Cold as Ashe was when I touched his body and figured he was dead, dead from the OD. Or as Peter Obus when he bled out in my arms. Cold as the other dead people I'd touched after they'd moved on. And I feel that kind of cold inside, I smell like death inside, but outside, it smells like the air, untouched by the pollution that'll probably invade it an hour or so from now, and purified by nature from yesterday's pollution. I don't understand how that works, yet. I just knew one thing then: death is around the corner. 


I crossed the road to the other side, wounded through raggedly positioned buildings, and ended at my colleague William's one room apartment. I didn't bother to go inside, but we were shaded from outside view by an extension put together with planks and net. There, we oiled our guns again. We have been doing just that for more than half the previous day too. They were ready for use. 


I took my personal Berretta, tucked it in-between my pants, it was already loaded, safety off. Combined, the team of 4 have a total of 9 guns - 3 double barrels, 4 locally made sawed off shotguns, and 2 pistols. And as we did all this, codeine and skunk never left our side. High as the heavens. 


Onos came to join us by 6AM, he was the fifth man, and the tricycle rider. He's around 5'4 tall and lanky. Once we got on a scale and dude was in the 40s. Could you believe that? Lightweight and yet part of an armed robbery gang. And he's really soft looking, compared to the other guys. 


Then we loaded up our tools into his tricycle, and we left. We patrolled and our road was clear. The morning was an uneventful one, even with the robbery still to come - the robbery didn't even look like it was going to be interesting. Time came, the cream coloured Toyota Camry 2.2 rolled out of the plaza, and we were parked ahead of it. We started moving before it got to us, and beat it to the junction. 


As the car slowed down to watch the intersection, Onos blocked it with his tricycle. Before anyone would say Jack, I was already out with the corked double barrel pointed to the head of a scared shîtless driver. William or someone fired two shots and the street that was filled with pedestrians suddenly became dry. Vehicles and humans retraced their wheels and footsteps respectively without any chaos. 


"Open the door! Open the door!! Open the door!!!" Kelvin's voice rang out from my right hand side. He said it in quick succession, that I took no note of how many times he said it. He tried to open it but the door remained lock. Apparently, scared driver wanted to be a hero in a robbery situation. He'd locked the doors from inside before the car came out, and whilst his hands were on the steering wheel and shaking, he wasn't ready to open the doors. All its windows were up. I had no choice. 


I wasn't not sorry about it, but he had to go. I pumped the window without thinking twice, jacked another  shell into the chamber, opened the doors as Kelvin and Williams emptied the car as quick as they could have. It may seem long, but it barely lasted a minute. We took off from the scene with William and I throwing shots into the air. 


Successful robbery. 50 million naira in our possession. A confirmed cut of 7 million for each of us!


Still, the cold lingered. 


We were holed up in our usual hotel, waiting for the Policeman who'd given us the link. Smoke, soft drinks and drugs were heaped on a table in front of us, as we smoked and 'high-ed' away. And with each inhale and exhale, it became clear something was wrong. Music boomed from Onos's MP3 Bluetooth player, but it was not enough noise to conceal what was to come. 


Something was amiss, I looked around to see if anyone felt the same with me. And as I scanned their faces one by one, I noticed Onos's eyes were fixated on me. He felt it too.


Or he didn't.


I wouldn't know, because the door crashed, then shots rang, and he was the closest to to the noise. He was dead before the door touched the floor. Opian never even had a chance. He was stunned as the rest of us were, and was too slow to react. He didn't even know what hit him. The time taken to drop the 2 dead bodies gave us a life line. 


The doubles we had had 8 rounds each. I picked up the one closest and emptied the 6 at the space previously occupied by the door. The 3 policemen scampered away for safety. The windows of the room were protected with steel gates, so we knew we have to come out through the door. 


It was interesting, the fact was. The 3 policemen were on mufti. How did they know exactly where to hit? Our linkup has either been caught, or he's betrayed us. And I found out exactly what, a few seconds later. I'd picked up another double barrel, William and Kelvin holding the last ones. We went through and fired left and right through the corridor. The police were already running out, so they weren't hurt. 


Right before the corridor emptied, I saw our linkup. On mufti. As with all the other policemen. 


Death is here. 


The corridor was our only route out. The policemen had us surrounded, so we decided to wait a little - an error. As we panted, looking sideways but rooted to the door post, the room opposite to ours opened, so did gun fire. 


We never had a chance. 


I ran back inside, William too. Kelvin didn't have such luck and he died right there. I was sure I'd shot the man with the rifle from the opposite room, but I was too on fire to really know. My sides ached. The amount of high in my body suppressed it, but I was bleeding all over. So was William. 


"Oboy, e go be o" were his last words. He ran out and was riddled with bullets.


I stood back. My last minutes. Or seconds. They said when one is about to die, life flashes before their eyes. Life flashed. I saw it all. The inevitability of life and death. Everything became clear. HD quality. No, I don't think. Better than that. Too clear. I laid down, contemplated my death, wondering if God is taking notes, what they have in stock for me in the afterlife, if I'd reincarnate, if I'd have been better off leading a more decent life (I disagreed with this part though, my life was fun while it lasted).


I was too weak to even lift my hands by the time the policemen came in. I closed my eyes. It turned out I'd gotten more bullets than the others, so they paid me no attention.


Our linkup man issued orders to his fellow robbers, "Sergeant, clear the money first! Abel! Plant evidence say one escape! You! Go calm people for out. . ."


"Oga, this one still dey breathe o!" Yelled one of the men.


I smiled, although my strength was too weak to let it display on my face. 


"You dey look am?! Shoot am, you fool!"


I wanted to savour the moment. I swear. Dying and dead aren't the same thing. It was fast. I didn't even hear the gun shot that killed me. I was just. . .



Gone.


© Jeffery Ovedje

Darling I'm missing you
Can I see you tonight?
I know it's impossible
But I like me a surprise

Behind these bars, I am
Lonely, please hold me
In your imaginations, that's only
Where I stay holy

I am a worm

Underneath these rocks
Rocks I call appearance
I am a tree
The wind blows and I dance

I want to show you, hoping
You know me
Girl, put on your lenses, peering,
Closely
See what the microscope
Is showing

I am a worm

Out to eat your innocence
I'm worn out from all this
Pretence
I'll let you go instead
But I know I'll forever regret

So I will let you, notice
Hoping
That you see my true colours
Solely, doling
Out these warning signs, honey
And see I cannot change

So can I be your worm?




©Jigs Lionheart

Four years ago
I had few problems
None of them was
How I could solve them
None of them was
How I could stop them
Never figured out
How I had got them

Four years ago
I smoked on the low
Back when I still
Love these people
Back then when
My life was simple
Treating life like
Another riddle

What changed
I don't know
Maybe I grew up
But I'm not sure
All those happiness
I can't find
Now I'm depressed
And looking for a mo-ther-eff-ing
Cure

I miss my mom
But I won't say it
I'm acting macho
But I'm shaking
Acting like her demise
Didn't faze me
But deep inside
I'm breaking

I'm twenty-five
And I'm confused
My fears have heightened
That I'll lose
I fear I'm failing
Wish I could
Stop my reggae
To not become blues

What changed?
Do I know?
I walk around town
Feeling glum
Inhaling skales
Licking tabs
Can't go a day
Without me mo-ther-eff-ing
Rum

I am now color blinded
You won't know
What is behind it
I see just green,
Black, yellow, white and
I need help
But where do I find it?

I used to write
Because I'm happy
Now I write
To remember what had been
It's how I keep me
Sanity
In check!
I don't even know what's happening
If I am smiling I'm acting
Feels like laughing would mean
My death

What changed?
I really don't know




© Jigs Lionheart
25/06/2019

Day 4


Rated as the prerequisite for a good afterlife
Empty promises they plant on the mind
Lately, I struggle to see it's promises
In its name, are lots of evils perpetrated
Gradually, its mask is being ripped off
In bits and bits, we see how it's made up
Of course are they holy! They're the wise ones
Nowadays, they sin and unsin it in the name of God


In the end, we serve a forgiving God
Surely, he's forgiven us the sin of living and then dying


An avenue for corruption and laziness


Servers of a sovereign God lives lavishly
Completely in poverty, are their members
Also, its leaders seeks wars, their listeners die
Men, when will we be wise?


Religion is a scam




©Jigs Lionheart

5 days Poetry Challenge Day three(3)

In here we lay,
Still holding the last rope of fate,
Still licking our large wounds,
Crafted by men
Who puts the pockets of their brothers into their purses,

Sierra Leone,

It's greed that sets us asunder,
To every mourn from the streets,
To every a crying baby,
To every a deprived youth,
To every a starved orphan,
To every a wretched mother,
Our leaders who thus work in blur,
Hath failed to listen,
Conscience has slipped off their fingers,

Sierra Leone,

After gaining independence since eons ago,
We're are still dependants,

Sierra Leone.

© Sam Alfred

Nigeria
Your people
Suffer, and yet
They smile, and get
Accustomed to the pain
Like an addict, do they beg
One last doze, the joints
Freed,, mind chained
As they struggle
And struggle
Nigeria


Nigeria
Your wealth
Lies with the one
Percentile, who still
Rob the poor 99 percent
This one percent are in every
Political office you have
Greedy lots, are these
And yet they rob
The others
Nigeria

©Jigs Lionheart

Day 2

I tried in keeping it away,
But my emotions outweighs me rather,
I shouldn't have said those words again,
Can't believe we're starting a new chapter,

My nights here now looks lonely,
And this is killing my very soul,
How's my life a good story,
If leaving me astray is your goal,

Never knew it'd reached this far,
Sometimes the truth is better left untold
Never knew you would hurt this bad,
And this is killing me also.

I wish I could've buried those bones,
But they'll would have still breath life again,
And memories they say hurt the soul,
So letting the pain is the only gain.

It's not my fault I'm this bad,
Society crafts my pain this way,
I wish I could've never disregard,
Your emotions, because the truth now looks insane

My trust is in the drain now,
And I'm drowning through,
My breathing skeletons is insane now,
And it's all for you

You needed to know the past,
There's no glory in forgetting home,
But then it's you I lose at last,
My home is dying slow.

Yet I still live as the man,
A man that love your flaws,
Despite failing all your plans,
But it's you I love in all.

© *Sam Alfred*

Phone's switched off
I've been calling and calling
You won't see me either
Help me, please! I'm falling
All because I screwed the pooch
Now I'm yelling screw the truth
Ran out of ways to say sorry
I don't know what else to do

I know we say the past is the past
But my past is a trap that could resurface
I understand if you're hurting
But see the past for what it is; the past

I screwed up. I took advise from friends
From books, preaching transparency
That's got my girl hating me
And it hurts. I'm hurt

When you're in love
And skeletons gets dug
Love turns to disdain
Scorn, contempt, disgust
And worse thing is, you're right
And though I'm in pain, I was wrong

Wrong to let you see me, for who I am
A man, moulded in the image
Of his environment
A man, who loves you too much
More than he could afford

A man who should've kept the skeletons buried

A man
Who loves you
And won't blame you
For what happens next

A man
Who wishes
You well, as you
Move on, from his life

A man
Who's sorry
He was open
And too transparent
And the result, he lost you

Some skeletons
Are better off
Staying buried.

©Jigs Lionheart

Day 1

I'm lost, ma
Everything I despise
I've become, ma
Scared of monsters
Now I'm one, ma
Your gentleman son
Is gone, ma


Since you left
I've fell in love, ma
Still in love but it
Won't last long, ma
It's the way I feel
How I feel is strong, ma
If she knows who I am
She'd be gone, ma


Do you know the kinds
Of drugs I am on, ma?
I sip anything
Swallow tramadol, ma
When I can't get it
I overdose on Panadol, ma
I find joy when I can't
Stand at all, ma


I feel something
But it's not enough, ma
I feel hollow, and I
Miss you so much, ma
When you were alive
We go days, months ma
But at least I know you're there
Though we don't talk, ma

©Jigs Lionheart


This little corner of mine
Nothing seems perfect ma
Pain guised in broken laughter
There is no glory in your absence, ma

Just a slice of bread,
I can't pay the price ma,
You know the last bucks I had
You chose to dwell inside ma,

I took blunt for the hunger,
But I need your advise ma,
The other day I sold ego away
Just for a cup of rice ma,
And I'm running from my kins too,
Too many tons of lies ma,

I fell in love so many times,
But they have all gone away, ma
Without the doughs these girls ain't loyal,
What existed among us were broken ties,ma
They all left like when
death knocks life away,
Without a goodbye, ma.

This little corner of mine,
I still breath hordes of pain ma,
I'm drowning into uncertainties,
I'm going insane ma,
It has been long since you replied my text,
When shall we see again ma?
How's life over there?
This one looks disdain ma.


© Sam Alfred

Tricky but i think understanding does it.