Skip to main content

NIGERIA IS AN ABATTOIR




By Lanre badmus


(FOR BENUE STATE & KOGI STATE )

The multiplicity of massacres-
metamorphosis of a carcass.
Blood like the waterfall...
agony apparently stands tall.

Swords sick with greed-
Covetousness of a special breed.
The ground has become a glutton-
her delicacy remains in the rotten.

Brutality brewed with bitterness.
Guns and bombs suffer from restlessness.
Vengeance with eyes really blind.
Conscience has been left behind.

Nigeria is an open sore...
the pains can only be more.
I envisage a scary scar.
Healing's domicile seems so far.

Tears trail the national flag.
The picture of a drenched rag.
Our leaders on a killing spree...
burial ceremonies are now for free.

January 2018

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

FACULTY OF THE MIND

By Jeremiah JOSHUA Deep darkness invades the mind, as thoughts of evil walks its hall way, giving impulses of feelings, lustful ones claiming to give peace. Strong and strange desires craving for what looks like the unknown. giving suggestions to the faculty on how to deplete and decrease our spiritual GP of righteousness. Trying to do good was the intent, but seeing a rival in our senses. haven't clearly seen and read this  lines from the book that gives wisdom that this courses are not to be taken in this great citadel, the MIND. But consciously and unconsciously we see them sneaking and stripping into our classroom to be masticated and acted upon. Slowly breaking down our tower piece by piece and leaving the faculty in ruins and not in peace . The infallible and irrefutable words we have once read from the book of wisdom is all we have left to stand against and battle this evil encroaching the terrains of our faculty. To yield to the great pers...

SALEWA

By Jonathan Oladeji I don’t know how many people have met Salewa before, even if it is not the Salewa I am talking about. What can you say is common about every Salewa? It’s usually their room mates that can testify better. I met Salewa in my 200 level and she told me her name was Sally. I stared at her for hours before managing to pick a seat behind her in the then AUD 2 on the Great Ife campus. Salewa is the typical tall, slim, dark and beautiful (TSDB) girl. I approached with all caution because I wanted to make a good impression. Even though I am not much of a fashionista, I could see her wrist bracelet, earrings and neck-piece were a complete set out of an A-Class boutique. Salewa was not the bend-down select kind of girl. I wanted to break out of that circle too by all means. We talked awkwardly at first, then kicked off with a bit of more fashion related gist as I noticed that was all she wanted to talk about. I actually wanted to talk about drawing boards and painting c...

ÌGBÀ ÈWE (CHILDHOOD DAYS)

By Teslim Opemipo Let our mothers come like harmattan haze and swear by the sacrality of ògún if the roof lying above their fathers' house has never been stoned by a boy in love to walk them out for an evening talk. Let our fathers come like a windy rain and swear by the simplicity of òsun if the path that leads to the village stream has never danced to serenades sang by their soles in chase of maidens with braids so long. Let the elders come like a mid-year harvest and swear by the tranquility of the moon if they've not once tasted the bliss of childhood fermented with the morals of moonlight tales. In our village, childhood is made of water; kinsmen, remember, water is brewed with life and life is the laughter moulded on our lips when we gambol from rivers to trees and to fields painted in the colours of hopping grasses. Brethren, if you hear an elder saying: growing up kills laughter and joy, do not giggle for they once like us tasted the bliss o...