₦airaland Forum

This thoughts keep plaguing me every night...Why are people of Africa always believing on ethnicity nepotism and always about their selves ?

Many souls are wasted in hatred
Genocides...yet pain are not debated
Still on the altars of the segregated
Lives on the balance are shredded


Without love they burn
With religion they philter
Without knowledge they suffer
With all...They become unbelievable gangster


Around our skin lies this ethnic disease
The blame shift and religious believes
Political mischieve
Societal hatred they conceive
All around the night
They segregate even the grass
How can you purge chlorophyll from plants?
Africa! My Africa!! What are your plans
Bent heads are sad, not deep in thoughts
The smiling face grieves in hurt
Good men chased from their hut
Greed and hatred, they bled and rot
Deeper things of ours, left in the mud
My heart bent in distrust


Many souls are worn on soles
If treachery could be hung on poles
Innocence not buried in the cold
Patriotism isn't hoarded on ethnic nepotism
Bribery weren't in the police periphery
My deeper thoughts in the night
Would be Africa buried in black diamonds
Shaped in black
Caped deeper into the night

This piece is about the before and after all the elections has been concluded......We discover the real secret behind our leaders .....This piece is not to castigate any figure nor start an ideology war between the two major political parties......its just the obvious truth I've observed from the sidelines and I decided to craft this piece nice reading ......


He kept a clear head

His manifesto no red tapes

A clear line of action for the youth

His pride.....The man from the roots

 

Soon  the commercials came

The phantom shenanigans games

He swore no evil by name

This is politics! Don't be lame!!!!!

The camera and the crowd showed him fame  

The game and men he administered blame

This isn't the promise at the helm

 

This is politics everyone can't be helped

Soon he forgot the men who sowed

Under the harsh sun....The cold he reaped

The tattered and wretched he quipped

Should wait he must be very quick

 

When they gathered to speak the mongering

The celebration celebrated their mourning

Their mornings bellowed a thousand moaning

The golden street he boasted is snoring

Reeking of pity and disgust

While his one room office has a thousand flowers

Ointments and Americanised odour eaters

While our pillow is a gutter full of bloody heaters

 

His head is clear again

Our thumbs are not in pains

Vote we must!

Vote we will!

We need to share this mosquitoes

we need to share your plans

Your clear head

For every vote we give!

Is a better Nigeria

Vote not fight!

This piece of poetry is a satire....It mocks the dreams of lazy Africans who see foreign countries as filled with all the love in the world. ....filled with goodies while they look down on the natural Africa.....They see it the same way foreigners has seen African for centuries. ....This is a call to action......Africa has all you need....





Yesternight was another dream

In between foreign claim

Lights and butterflies in ethereal realm

Where there is love of the lame

The elders mocked my thoughts

I was human so were there!

An American dream.....

Tied in between the Sunday chicken

Packaged gifts every Christmas

Last night...I had a different dream

 

A dream of gongs and tripod beigns

Carved out of woods and iron

Dipped in mystics and folklores

Masquerades and ceremonial bygones

 

A different dream........

Mead from the horrors

Poverty

Wars

Pestilence

 

A dream of green leaves all

Beautiful sunlight

Amidst opened beautiful flowers

Butterflies mocking the gleeful children

Away from the dreams of foreign definition of Africa

This poem is another romeo story. ...its a true life story of young man who feel in live with a very rich girl and a powerful family. ....and everything he did for the lady' the sacrifices even life threatening scuffles....The girls family refused the girl to marry him......



Dreams dreams he said sorrowfully

Melancholic expectations tally

The dose he swallowed dutifully

Hoping all his pains will be washed beautifully

 

Her daring expectations broke the tears

His turmoil and toil of all those years

Washed in dreams of his dangling fears

His disappointments of his threatening peers

 

His family spoke reason 'he' spoke understanding

Her family threatened! She went 'loving'

'Romeo' caned in meticulous upbringing

Families battling dangerous 'loving'

 

The pressure mounted on his hardened emotions

'They' never regretted 'their' actions

straightened in defeat it lead to insurrections

Their families torn in eternal inseparations

Another dream in eternal shores told to gossips

This poem.is a call to our brothers in this country to see the good in demanding for good governance report and also to appreciate the good in our leaders but asking for truths and reject propaganda and lies




Fisted winds glued his hands
The pounding of his heart and glands
Mired his thoughts of a thousand land
The hanging reprimand


The ancestors in droves have demanded
Account of how we denied their sacrifices
The spirits we bribed! The receipt of their demands!
Dark horses with whitened tougues


The vices and their prices
Valour lost in confidence!
Our believe on the 'apprentice'
Sold their sundry laundry to the solar lattice


Naked with hallowed fist in their hands
Eyes shinning for their dues
Sango and Amadioha revolting with bolts
Threatening whomsoever took their sacrificial oath

Please readers tell me how you feel after reading this piece

steady hands.......

This poem is about nigerian politicians. ...especially those politicians from northern extraction who have never invested in the wealth of their people....The poem is a lamentation to community service by all not just the politicians but everyone. ...let's help each other


How can you be so rich?!
And leave us in the gutters!
To grope in the night
And filter the disgust!


How can you be this rich!
And yet our roads are of gold!
Our wealth is your wealth
While we trade on dirty linen


How can you be so rich?
So rich that you urinate gold!
And you eat on precious stones!
While we mould clay for our meals


How. ..how could you be this rich?
This wicked! This selfish?
The tarred roads are mud
While your promises are a million dud!

Every time I pass Idumota
I love the dangling bridges above the gutters
That reveal dirty roof and rafters
Of humans, all in the street of Ojota


As I pass the bridge of Idumota
I appreciate the divide between the island and Ijora
That mixes emotions in restive Ojuelegba
How the rich makes Lagos a dump of triumph


As I walk the streets of Ajegunle
I feel the pains of Ibikunle
The excesses of Papa Kunle
Impregnating the sister of Kehinde


Is this population not tiring for you Shola?
Why encourage your sister Bola?
To populate the over populated Ijora!
You can imagine what crosses my mind, when am in
Ojota!

This city is lost

Burried in ancient pillars of wine and lust

Feuding on blood and utter disgust

Their pride is in being lost



This ancient city has Burried many kings

Youths lost in their revolt for drinks

Selling nothing but death to the weak

Choking whomsoever wants a new rethink



This city has lost its value

Bathing in past glories, lost in its avenue

Youths perishing on faltering retinue

It's grandeur is suffering rot! Must this continue?



What epitaph of rotteness is this

Rotten beings eponymous to a deity

As melee in anxiety

This is no mellifluous meld of praise!...pity!



Is there a legacy left?

Or a dance with meerschaum of advance theft?

If nothing stops this trend of maudlin deft

Where none appreciates nor complain this drift


Calabar with its alluring landscape

with blood feuding on the sands about to escape

into oblivion, for none to arrest the scape

To warn the young and elders to escape



This city has lost its ideals

Fleecing their children and feeding them peril

Fathers dancing in absent degree

Offering nothing but violence...that's the disease



How lofty are the ideals of this land

Sinking the youths in bands

Old men progressing and dancing as planned

While decay catches up the youths of the land

@iamlaykorn welcome and give some thoughts to this piece

He stood on shrill shells
Empty with pains of the years
Shrill shells brought tears
Theatres of pain brought rain

Don't forget their thoughts
Opprobrium angels that hurt
All the fragile mock
For "our" love and the thorns


Fragile neck of service to the "land"
Here no "man" deceives no man
No snakes to picket the hand
All for the "love" of "our" land!

Bigots, despots and nepotic brethrens
Heartless surreptitious heathens
Fiendish friends for fresh smidgen
Vapours of love soaked in poisons


Tomorrow is pregnant
For "all"
Not some...not all
Brothers to all...friends to none

Our lovers...Our brothers
Immortal fathers
Deceitful mothers
All fragile in service

Shrill sweat screams!
Valour! Honour! And horrors!
In filth and glory
Fragile minds...same story

Our service. ..Our nation
Bitter legions
Fragile regions
Sold to sullen service

www.thunderboltpearlz..com

honestly it's either the judges are not here and penalties are not given. ..the post was meant for 6 pm submission time and as at now. ...We haven't heard our verdicts. ...how will we write tomorrow to meet up the time...This is unfair to us.. .who met the time line am not asking for any favour...buh why is it taking too long for the judges to tell us our scores??

If she has a good heart

The face is nothing just an art

All a man wants is never a dart

Comfort from a woman, not a brat

 

If she has a bad name

Why blame her and put her in disdain?

All she needs is a den, not pain

To hide her fears, it's time to be that man!

 

If she has a bad character

Why bother her with another trimester?

Change her or banish such barrister

That thinks people can't change! Is this Jupiter?

 

If he has a good heart, why the fear?

Everyman has his season and year

Change is what every woman should bear

That is the dread every woman wears!

It wasn't you i wanted to see

It wasn't time and place to say

The sun blazing and sweat swaying

I wanted to see imo, just in waiting

 

you took a glance and made the move

Taking me off my feet and moving my heart

Asking questions and making demands

To know what glance it was?

 

A passing glance

A daunting stance

A yearning heart, a hearing pace

At a heart that flows with smile and dance

 

Join me...my melody

Precious stones of trilogy

Like a brigand dancing in monopoly

Calling my heart to a secret ideology

My brothers please hold 'our hands'

Don't let us wander like lambs

Roaming the land

Intelligent cowards with might

 

Please my fathers why the stance?

We the 'youths' are in a trance!

Do we have a future? We are not here to dance!

We are not irresponsible and it's no lie

 

Our 'country' of old is changing

The innovation of our world is branding

Our ethics is crashing

Everyone passes the blame debating!

 

My brothers, our hands are not tied

There is so much to do....don't shy

Hold our minds...so it doesn't stay dried

We want change!  Let's be United first...are we tired?

Akwa Ibom State has finally become a mega city
with everybody growing impatient as features of a
mega city, a land blessed by peace and unity with
funerals raging in almost every corner, but the
population has still outgrown its major detractor which
is death. As I watch the young men mix about, I
wonder if ethnicity will ever tear them apart? Or if
they were ever divided once? Akwa Ibom is a land
blessed by God and here peace speaks louder than the
din of the commercial keke's that ravages the
tranquility of the humid streets. I wonder aloud if they
will be divided if politics comes again, or will people be
ripped off buses to be thrashed because their tribes
didn't allow other tribes to campaign in their locality?
If i am to question without prejudices, how
correct can it be? Akwa Ibom is a land of emotions with
sober men watching and protecting the peace that our
fathers gave to us as our inheritance; if I am thinking
aloud, I wonder who is already scoffing this idea or this
article, already I can see faces smiling, others red with
passion, all am trying to say here is simple, I am a lover
of PEACE, i love my state.
Recently my state has been ambushed by
population outburst that threatens the peace I bath in
everyday; I am not lazy, don't even think about it, trust
me I've been to states where some people literally live
their lives in molue or buses as they ply their daily
means of livelihood, but in my state its rather a
metaphor that very soon we may be living there
because that is the other alternatives of living in a mega
city.
Akwa Ibom I love you, I am happy, I am from
Akwa Ibom state and I would have regretted if my
parents were not from Akwa Ibom and I came to live,
leaving here when am grown up would have been
traumatic and a harsh nightmare I wouldn't love to
wake up from. I am a son of PEACE, an ambassador of
eloquence, a tempest of development, a flood of
substance that Nigeria is bathing in. Akwa Ibom is like
the garden of Eden blessed with independence from the
world.
Anywhere I stand as an Akwa Ibomite, I am sure
that in a crowd of billions, a million is envying me; I
believe in its love, I believe in this land not because I
am a believer, but I believe in its ideals, I believe in
what it has offered to the young, old, needy, poor and
the less privileged in our society, even to the
Almajiris....yes I believe in it!
When I stand in the street and watch, I see all the
tribes of Nigeria moving about freely with no mockery
of tribe nor kin, how I wish my country was like my
state! How I wish I could walk the streets of my
country without fear of any religion, without fear of
been uprooted from my spot by a piece of shrapnel of a
bomb that just exploded at the corner of the street or
been slaughtered by a group of maniacs who thinks
that children is the shield they use to wage their
sabbatical war, I wish I can walk the streets of my
country without fear of IEDs that was constructed with
fertilizers that poor farmers should have used to
increase their yields! But No! It is used to harvest
bodies all in the name of Religion! That speaks the
same PEACE that my state speaks!
And I ask have I not known peace? In my state?
Or have I not tasted the fruits of peace in my state?
Because in my state I sleep with both ears shut and not
with my eyes snapped open at every noise that passes
the street! I love peace and am not ashamed to say it, if
I say this, I hope I won't start another protest because
if I am to say this, it must be for peace of my country!
Let nobody be deceived that when a man is killed on
the temple of religion that the Almighty who created
that spirit, body and soul is smiling or rewarding such
acts with either imaginary or perceived rewards!
Regardless of who is killed!
I love peace and I want to enjoy such serenity my
brothers have been robbed by troubled and broken
people and i add finally, my brothers if your
environment is hostile? You are always welcomed to
Akwa Ibom State my first love!

Pharm. Odudu Samuel Akpaete

noble4d:
Nice writeup...I like the fact that each stanzas are in quatrain and making use of plain English is superb, easy to understand by a lay reader.

thanks Bro. ..its plain English with deeper subtle meanings... that's how u write my works...so that people can come to love poetry you can see this works and others at www.thunderboltpearlz..com
home of poetry

She stood there with frozen tears

From all her years

Those bitter plea as he spoke his sweet

A faithful pain caressing her ears

 

Deep in thoughts, the mind lost

Fires cracking from heated frost

Her pains dissolved on a liquid purse

Another glance...another pain on her hands

 

Her meek heart betrayed his passion

His tears made her many mansions

Shattered lineage of broken inactions

Still hung on the pains of yester year's emotions

 

All that was ever said

Was just too late

In between her legs

Lay another head

laykorn:
3
WHERE IS MY PEN:
Where on earth is my diamond pen?
I used it last on Eve New Year.
When it had written me lines of swords and spears.
Come,come,you are sought here.
Where I feel the heat of a thousand poets.

4 my pen called
family trolls
abandoned their chores
to the flutes of my pulse
my bloody friend is my all

When the roll call came I didn't see my name. ..let's come together create an anthology and sell it on e bay...serious am in check my works on poetry on www.thunderboltpearlz..com and you will be surprised I have more than 80 poetry.....keys do this or create a thread on whatsapp and them compile a d the best poems sold...let's do this am waiting for your answer my number is 08064447793 get me on whatsapp let's create the whatsapp thread now...add min of this thread do the needful