₦airaland Forum

Somewhere in Eden,
The Creator cursed me,
Said I'll crawl with my chest
On the ground licking dust
For giving a wrong advice.

Somewhere in West Africa,
An office clerk blessed me,
Fed my belly with some millions
On my arrival into her office,
Fetched me fame and fortune.

I hate the Creator's view of me in Eden,
Love the Western African's notion of me.
While Eden made me an outlaw,
I was made a millionaire here,
On the path to my own billions
Not too long from now!

Please,
How many more millions do I need
To add to thirty-six million
To become a billionaire?








© Seezzy

Thank you sir!

ehbellsho:
Good. Wish u more wisdom

I adore that stubborn and kinky hair of yours
Whenever I see you diligently doing your chores.
I respect the pride in your ebony complexion
Because it reminds me of nature's own affection.
Though you might be strictly ebony or even cinnamon,
I still cherish you like a queen a king had summon.
You're a finished and dignified product of God's work
At a time when vain beauties made the media berserk.
Whenever I see on you a neatly organized cornrow,
My heart is joyous like a man freed from death row.
Who says you have to expose some flesh like slay queens
When flawless beauty is stuck on you like a pair of jeans?
I could write about the seven wonders of the ancient world;
But yours still stands despite the cosmetics modernization hurled.
Don't let the pressure and bad influence get to you:
For you worth more than internet likes across the blue.
You are strong daughters, sisters , aunties and mothers;
So don't give up like one who surrenders as she smothers.

What a jagbajantis!
Our kontri don turn rigor mortis.
Dem de fight korruption
Wit ghost for everywhere.
Maybe na even assumption
Say dem fit hide money anywhere.
Minister de tell lai,
Even for national TV.
Upon man satifikate and tie
Work scarce lak say e no get CV.
Dis kontri get meni dgibiti people
Wae just de chop all the yams.
We say na work of the devil,
Even the herdsmen wae destroy farms.
Abeg na who de buy guns for Boko boys
To take finish a whole community?
These days poor man no fit rejoice
Because sae him no see electricity.

Break the jar
of her innocence.
You took the best flower
off her garden.
You say her dressing
was the greenlight,
but is she a traffic light?
Her kindness
you took advantage of
even though she trusted you.
I see her tears still
falling off that dimpled cheek
as she sobs
everyday for her broken jar.

Shattered on the floor,
Broken from the door.
The division is harmful to barefeet;
Peacemakers cannot sit.
Understand the picture I'm trying to paint;
I'm not a saint!
The unity is stronger than glass,
But it can be broken into different class.

Everything built can easily come crashing;
Surrounded by dark clouds though the light is flashing.
The glass is covered when religion calls.
They seem calm like a clean waterfalls.
Unbroken glass admire and adore them,
But can pretence solve this problem?
The unity is stronger than glass,
But it can be broken into different class.

The beginning itself is a lie.
For you he seems to care.
For you he promises to die.
During your lonely days he says he'll be there.
Is there a sham such as love?
He covers his lies like rotten herbs kept in a clay pot!
With sweet tongues he puts you above.
He promises to pass thro' fire with you, even without having a second thought.
I'm free to say that there is no love, but lust today.
In the end he makes your heart a playground.
Isn't it better to be without a 'lover', so to say?
I'll say there is no love again until you hear the echo of my voice sound!

Please, hope I'm not too late? I'd love to join

We smile even when the big ones are crying,
We are happy even in pains!
Thro' still birth and abortions we've been dying;
With our little eyes we see when a tyrant reigns.
Try to be happy with us for once;
We are the little ones!

We play with other genders without bad intentions:
We make friends more than enemies.
Happy are we when we watch kiddies programs on televisions.
Give us love not properties!
Thank you for appreciating our wrongs.
We are the little ones!

We hate to see our parents separated;
Teach us good morals and values with respect.
In pains are we when we are not educated:
Take me to school before the sunset.
These are wishes of the little ones.
We are the little ones!

Hope it's going to be educative?
#GatheringOfTheElites

I support this motion!

Just as we all know, almost all forms(oral and written) literature has either one or two connections with the Greeks. Does it mean that the Greek are pioneers of literature?

Characters
Major Jomi(a retired soldier)
John(his friend)
Bukata(major's servant)
Pa Sumonu(an elderly man)
Mrs Jomi(major's wife)
Olodo(major's son)
Youths
Villagers
Crowd.
Settings
Around the nineties(90s).
Major Jomi's house(one of the best at that time) a plastered, but old duplex; pre colonial and post colonial era gadgets and home appliances,such as a black and white television,gramophone etc.

Pardon me guys I'm a newbie in Drama.
Updates coming soon!


Acts 1
At Major Jomi's house.
Major Jomi: Imaging that pa sumonu doing 'yanga' with his cheap vespa(now shouting after seeing Mrs Jomi). I have a Volkswagen beetle in my garage....
Mrs Jomi: (interrupting him) Papa Olodo wetin happen again?
Major Jomi: (still ranting) bloody civilians! I will teach him what i taught the Germans in the world war II. What i did Burma and Vietnam. I will bundle him to the barracks....
(enters Mr John. A tall man, younger than the Major. He is wearing a colonial era coat. He is respected by the major)
Mr John: Hullo Major!(Major still ranting) What happened Major? Why are you vexed?
Major Jomi: Is it not that bloody civilian called Pa Sumonu... He saw my driving my Volkswagen beetle this morning...you get me?...He just shouted,' take your jalopy comot for road jor'. And the fool his driving a second handed, if not third hand vespa.....
Mr John: (interrupting him the major) Haba Major! By now you should have known that illiteracy is seriously disturbing Pa Sumonu.
Major Jomi: (now happy,but shouting) Bukata! Bukata!! Where is this lazy servant of mine... Bukata!!!
(enters Bukata. An illiterate trying to behave like the colonial masters)
Bukata: Sah...Sah...Sah! Sun Sah! Bukata reporting for eighty-three battalion Sah.
Major Jomi: Get me a keg of palm wine so i can wash away my sadness...(Bukata now racing to bring it) Fast o
Bukata: (shouting from afar) Yes Sah!
Mr John: The Major! I think it would be better if you employ Pa Sumonu as your gate man...you no the situation is very hard in the country...
Major Jomi: Eh?... Me take that mad man? I don't need him. I get war experience! Who can attack a whole major that led a battalion that was massacred,yet nothing happened to him...(noticing that John had been laughing all along) Why are you laughing?
Mr John: (still laughing) the major! So your entire battalion was massacred? How did you survive if you hadn't taken to your heels. I am encouraged by your 'brevity'...
Major Jomi: Don't start o
Mr John: Major truth be told you need to employ him...
Major Jomi: Oya come begin waka!
Mr John: Aurevoir Major!(Mr John walks out. Olodo enters frowning)
Major Jomi: Son,why is you face as strong as Olumo rock? Tell me who offended you,the son of a war veteran-Major Jomi.
Olodo: Daddy is it not that Pa Sumonu, i saw him on my way home. He called me son of a runaway soldier...
Major Jomi: (interrupting him) ...what! What did you do to him?
Olodo: ...eh. Daddy,why should i attack an elderly man like Pa Sumonu...
Major Jomi: (surprised at the level of Olodo's intelligence, stands arms akimbo, remains speechless for a while)... Olodo, you have spoken well. You can go and have your launch.(enters Bukata)
Bukata: Sure sah!(Mimicking military's salute)
Major Jomi: Yes! Who called you? Did i call you?
Bukata: (scratching his head,confused and sweating profusiously) Sahhhh...i think say...
Major Jomi: Come on leave this place jare,fool!
Bukata: Yes sah!(runs out instantly)

To be continued.