A Warrior's cry

-
a warior



They don't really love us
Maybe they appreciate the idea of our being
Or maybe they don't
They just like to keep up appearances
We're soldiers in a war
That has no end
A war that never began with/ from us
The selfish cancerous Brain child of the dictator
Spreading amidst all and Sundry
What won't they do for a misguided cause?

So we've been snatched away from our lover's bosom
Shut away from the warmth only love can give
Exposed to the company of cold and hot climatic conditions
Buried bodies of boys
Who never grew up to be men
Their faces never stay away from our dreams
They have become the nightmare
One dozens of pills won't fix
Their putrid flesh seemed to have made mother Earth a deal
"If we don't make it, let no man here lay to sleep easy"
They really do love us
Or so they claim
Fight for your unborn children!
Fight for peace and order!
But who,
Pray,
Who will fight for the burden we bear each passing day?
We aren't just soldiers in a war,
We are iron in the hand of the caster
Bent and turned
Fashioned and made
To what is required
Or tossed aside like dirty water
So we've been robbed of our favorable years
Brought back from war with rotten spoils
Grenade and blades that haunt our sleep
Left with trophies only our sanity can raise
The lone life
And eventually in-sanity



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

ON THE STREETS OF LAGOS

-
Image
Basira, the daughter of Iya Basira OniParaga, is one of the girls that allow agberos to  by force  her. I wonder why they speak of it as  by force  since Basira giggles like a wild duck on honeymoon during the act. In my understanding, whatever you enjoy is not forced. At least that is what our English said when a schoolboy told us his Mother forced him to eat his favorite food every day.  Hearing Basira's cherry moan amongst parked cars is everything but  by force. Right, what does a boy know? Everyone in the  Lungu  knew Basira's gist. Well, except, of course, her very Mother. If she knew, she never let it on because Iya Basira was only in the second position to my Mother in curses and fake enmity. Lizards in the wall cracks carry on the tale of Basira's numerous  by force  escapades. Denial is just denial. That woman has heard the stories; she is lying to herself. On this day, Basira and one of these no do-gooders were sh...
Read more

Owiwi, the bird of the spirits

-
Image
Her eyes; large and piercing sears fear into the depth of your soul It lays man naked with ogling that scares to death The rounded mirror is as weird as the poise she maintains for a lifetime Be it far from me that I fall into the row of the Unfortunate and have her visit my dreams For tales lay in the wake of tales That all who Owiwi casted her singular shadow Upon in sleep had fates worse than death Theirs was indeed a circus The bloody circus...  
Read more

On The Streets of Lagos....

-
Image
See, it was not so hard to fancy Ajeps. His entire being oozes of a kind of Swagga not common in other agberos. For one, he was always neat and well kept. And his steps had a definitive bounce to them. If tables turned, that man would have been a man of poise. I think my endearment towards him began when he first attempted to speak English to me. I was more intrigued than amused, and well, I did not laugh at him.  Halo Boys, I ear that pe, you use to go, class,” shey, you wee teaching me one or tow? You should have seen the stern look on his face. Something passed there for just a second.   ******* Padi e, go buy me garri and pure water; mortuary standard, epa- everything sha, you don get? .  And I will shake my head, or answer “  I get”  running as fast as my young legs could carry me. Ajeps always had change;  beta life  was forever first on top of the wads of cash that seem to struggle to fit into his pockets. And I w...
Read more