What is read in the news these days is enough make every well meaning Nigerian sad, much more make them afraid for their future, the future of their children and that of their fatherland.
There tends to be no sector of the country which is really doing well. The Nigerian Senate is plagued with its leaders faces charges for which many would have thrown in the towel. There are indications that the house is divided, even on the issue of the leadership of Nigeria by President Muhammadu Buhari. Trust is lost, truth is missing and we have no virtues anymore.
The media feasts on the ills that tends to multiply by the day, a miracle is urgently needed to save the nation.
These poets have reacted to the Nigerian situation, however, their poems cuts beyond Nigeria and Africa, to a world that seem to have lost its way. The madness is everywhere, death is not the worst we fear, we fear more what living has become.
The First Tooth.
The first tooth wasn’t lured by oil and salt
To breaking the seal of the gum
The first tooth was called up by milk.
…Milk in form of life itself.
The first tooth fell in a coup
For the want of oil, spice and wine
For the want of meat, red and white
For the want of caffeine and plastics.
And life went-on with the chewing of all these things
And the king tooth changed in color
That it’s become yellow, green, grey and black
And it’s all colors except its first
That in strength, it curves the cap of a cork
…and let the gas to the skies;
That it tears the bark of the earth and let the tears flow
And in height, it’s become a fang
And grow beyond the circles of the lips
To scare sweat and blood off pores
And thereafter, fall and lost in wingless dust.
Now with this tooth, we can find the truth…
…the coup that led the first tooth to the roof
In the company of seven earthly angels.
Dare Dan is a spoken word poet. He lives in Lagos and work in Lagos. He goes by the handle @damilaredan121 on twitter.
It seems we’ve forgotten
How joyfully we walked into
Promises made by coming soon
Do we need a new pair of shoe
Or we are peering into holes
As our penchants dictate that we should
He went viral, saying yes we can
Four years after, he appears as if carrying an empty can
Black hair turning white
A tea party never thought hiatus was fun, and were now running wild
Real commonsense saw signs
A speech which began by a praise of his wife
Turned his fortunes around
So he won another round
Now ratings show him trending higher than Ronald ever did
I wish I can tell you, he’s perfect in everything
His words often are not polished
He has a history of deeds, and myriad of things he abolished
His flaws often gape
Heavily accented words, which gives few away
You may have been to his gallery, his collections are scant
They say he’s a protectionist, that may be his art
It’s true things are slow
It’s true we’ve moved back, and basic radiance is now a dimmer shade of normal glow
But I can feel a train coming
Remember the night was stormy
If rain comes in the morning
In the early days, a lover judges intentions
When x walked away from math, it was because x placed her in detention
Dividends were stuck in vandalized pipelines
An apple sliced down the middle, was divvied even further
So they could shower in the public fountain and glisten longer in the limelight
They seeded lands to girl-takers
Turned their own warriors to serial undertakers
Debts followed emptied tills
In the aftermath of a disaster, we discovered how stealing kills
It’s often sad how garbage cannot be left in the trash
Because of artificial tribal marks
Two seeing eyes could be blinded by prejudice
It will also color the mind and poison the tongue
A half full glass thereafter looks half empty
Making every one of us feel our conditions have never been worse
Because we have mostly lost our memory…
By Akeem Oyalowo
Go tell my son
Go tell my son…
the things he sees today
that glow with glitz and might,
are things we saw before
bowed to hollow naught.
the seed he plants today
shall bear fruits
of good or ills
that’ll feed his nation’s bowel
that life is full of thorns
that hide in transient home
where saints are robbed of garb
and crowned with thorny tags
never to date a cause
to tear a man apart
with pleasant spiteful words
to win an oath of thanks
to denounce his wedding vows
to things that fade with time
and sign a seal of love with
eternity’s friendly br*asts
to open a heart account
where deposits of love are kept
to earn bounty yields
to forget not the days of humble start,
when poverty courted us
And spend as wise he can
The wealth he has for now
this path he chose to thread
shall bring pain and gain along,
but love shall see him through
when fouled by aching throes.
Here I am now
stripped off - of life’s vanity’s veil
where all I had before
rests on transient’s desk
to attend funeral service
where kings are lowered to dust
perhaps that will make him see
the twists that life presents
to make his heartfelt choice
when adulthood beckons on him
so he may make his falls
and take a cue from that.
I swear I’ll cry again
if he fails to heed my words
and do the things he should
that lead to lofty Heights.
Mikail Oluwadare Bashir is a creative writer. His passion for the screen led him to Hampton Court Studio UK, where he obtained a Diploma in Screenwriting in 2009. He has attended local and international residencies. His poems had been published both in print media and online.