A perforated basket
Made on a yawning day
I was born.

Stashed through my hurried life
Into the parking garage of future
Guarding me jealously
Without a reason.

A perforated basket
Weaved under the thorny hands
Of a carpenter and seamstress.

Seen by storm and thunder
Carried through floods
Into an unknown gutter—life,
Clearing all goodies along

A perforated basket
Goaded and glared at me
For so long it became a neighbour.

A neighbour that swallowed all thought
Of suctioned life in its prime
Into the belly of mother Earth.

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From the young to the old
From those who are not that bold
And shiver to speak as if with cold

To those who talk without fear
And shed all sort of crocodile tears
Don’t be deceived for everyone can lie

From those who claim to love
Yet cannot even sacrifice what they have

From those with innocent looks
To the annoying ones with weird looks

And those as fat as an inflated balloon
To those as slim as the half moon

From the gentle jacks who stand tall
To those who crawl or don’t walk at all
Don’t be deceived for everyone can lie

Even those behind the pulpit
They narrate the scriptures into fibs
False doctrines being bathed on their culprits
When they still bless with their holy lips

From those who are married
To those who are single and unmarried

Everyone lies about one thing or another
Just to impress or maintain the other

To those who are in power
And those seeking it however

Present lies through propaganda notes
Just to secure some electoral votes
So don’t be deceived for everyone can lie

For those who are hungry
Manipulate lies to be filled
And those who are filled
Fabricate the truth to get thrilled

From the beloved and highly favored
To the foe and those merely hated

None can forever be honest
Especially when put to a solicit test
For lies are ever accustomed in our society
And technology has even made it a normality

So just asked “where have you gotten to”
And the answer will be “I just drove passed the zoo”
Meanwhile he or she is at home
Now dressing up and busily for a comb.

Don’t be deceived for everyone can lie

People hide their right entity
To impress the inquisitive society
By presenting false identity

The truth sometimes seem bitter
So we perceive the bitters as lies
And the sweet as truth

But to my poem alone
I’m sure its not a lie
That everyone can lie 🤥

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Politics Weds Africa

Africa a beautiful continent; A lady full of life with untapped resources.
An ideal moment to be married to correct her flaws

For her to be well exploited and managed by her suitor

Religion was a leading peaceful actor
Yet politics has won the marriage license with aggression
And the wedding is set during elections

The political players and stakeholders
The chiefs and opinion leaders acting as our father’s

Barter trades our development
By negotiating our bride price for their advancement

So to those candidates who drop brown envelopes and make good ties
Are considered as the best groom for us

The marriage vows are found in the manifestos and agendas
Which is filled with false propaganda’s

Rusted but neatly polished
Being well hidden in glorious suits
Till they assume office when entrusted

Then you see the carcass beneath the looks

Power drunks.
Giving the wrong people the right ranks

Changing the system
To meet their party and personal anthem

Amassing our resources;of course it’s a wedding party as set
Producing a generation of similar mindsets

Politics;full of lunatics
Says the opposition who wants to be in their edifice

Loading several critics
Just to do worse mistakes he predicts

But the cheers for then are still loudest
For politics have wedded Africa in silence

Our union is one in chains
For Africa is bleeding in pains

But separation will surely come
For their ring and power lies on our thumbs

Their bride price will be returned with persecution
But until then who will re-marry Africa ?;and strengthen its institutions.

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Dim light

Once a bright star and a beloved

Now you are nowhere to be discovered

Like a dim moon
Or an ended toon

It was a great show anyway

Waking up everyday beside someone you know I say

A perfect picture

Now with a terrific nature

Horrific to look at

For the bright lights are now gone out

Leaving the atmosphere stygian

With invisible shadows

Stealing the ecstasy of the libertarian

Who now resides in hollows

Struggling to be apparent in the spotlight

With every possible might

Despondently, your return cannot be anticipated

Till our lives become terminated

For situations at times

Present us with limes

But if you can make the bitter sweet

Then the sweetness will always retweet

All hopes can fall out

All lights may dim out

But look further in the tunnel that is darkened

For there’s actually a light at the very end that is well brightened

Dim light you may be now but brighter is your end.

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HopeLifePoetrySpoken Word


Raise the platform in the alley

And let’s conduct a campaign rally

Let’s promise them a heaven amidst the storms

Let’s ensure something new, something out of the norm

Draft a new Propaganda

Dubbed “the agenda for a prosperous Africa”

Let us preach their utmost interest

And place it above every existing nest

Yes! yes!, that is what politicians Promises us;

Several non-existing development.

Yet we know what they truly meant

That all was for their Selfish interest

Full of greed and selfishness

Trading our welfare as if their own business

Corrupting the institutions

Polluting the populations

Trading our long lasting peace

With argument, war and corrupt practices just for a silver piece.

Advancing the knowledge gained from our books

Just for looting our resources for their shooting boots.

Oh Mama Africa

Till when will your cries be heard?!

Till when will your smiles be spread!?

Let’s raise the platform again

This time no falsehoods and selfish gains

This time let’s consider the natives livelihoods and pain

Let’s practise what we preach

And make every resource and opportunity get to everyone’s reach

Let’s have love for all and hate for none

And Africa will surely unite as one.


by DaCosta de Poet?

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We know say for some of us
Na for ghetto dem born us
Na for ghetto we go school
The school we go self no be first class
Na for ghetto we dey grow up
But e no mean say We no go make am.

We know say for some of us
Our Papa no be minister
Our Papa no be millionaire
E fit be say some of us no get Papa self
But e sure for us, we go make am
So far baba God dey with us.

We know say for some of us
Na we hustle pay our school fees
We no say even connection we no get
Say we reach where we reach today
Na we hustle am out
But the thing be say, God dey with us

We know say for some of us
We no get fine house to live
we no get better motor
But e sure for us say
One day this hustle go pay
God no go shame us at all.


By Linda Okafor ??
Zealous Poetess ✨

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In it I take my joy.
Not an ordinary appellation,
It took a different twist,
Sabon but never related
In the infancy of dawn,
I stepped into oozing dew
Blanketed by the droplets
Which fest on my nimble foot

Oh! my ankles weren’t left out
The blades of grass axed them
Like a butcher’s chopping board
The bijoux of cow dung crowded
A meandered path
Uncertain of what hide under
A callused darkness of water and mud.

I wobbled faster than a dodged bird,
Dangled closely to a shooting pellets And hopped sharper than a toad,
Distancing my wafted feet
from seated lakes,
On a middle path.
But why should I snailed ponds
Or Mountains, Blades of grass,
Endure the bloodstains to a Joy?

I got to the four squared edifice
Wishwashed in yellowish oil,
Candying in with dawn timberness.
It’s not an ordinary joy.
From above, it stooped into my palm,
Caressing my soul, body and mind.
It’s a Joy of different order.


Al Latif Kambonaang.

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Journey of life

“Obra Akwantuo”

An episode that man cannot fully understand

A complexity yet a four letter word that never lands.

The journey of life begins right from the onset of birth.

The very anticipating moment when one breathe the first breath.

And right from infancy even before your toothing.

Life started with you through your crawling till dying.

Like the blooming of a flower till it’s withering

Life is a journey with it’s destination so hard to determine.

Full of mixed events and happenings.

And seems more of science yet needs working like math.

The journey of life is without a path but of many routes.

Sometimes one has to virtually trace every happenings to one’s root.

For it was once wisphered that what happened to your father or mother may happen to you.

Be it generational curses or blessings which you may not even have a clue.

The journey of Life has become a race for many.

Copying others lifestyle and forgetting life is not a symphony or harmony

Or a chorus meant to be chanted together.

“Obra Akwantuo ne obra anamontuo eny3 p3”

Yes! the journey of life has a distinct note and key altogether.

It gives diverse favourable opportunities to everyone.

And worse and unpleasant experiences to the unlucky one.

Situations present to our nest rigid prizes

For the journey of life itself is of a fall and a rise.

Life leaves behind in our dark caves some wonderful memories

For it’s journey is an unforgettable adventure, coupled with experiences and stories

Full of trials, regrets and enjoyable moments

Life teaches us lessons as if we are it’s student.

Though death is the bus stop to the journey of life

Yet we believe in a next life to encounter where there’s no strife
“Obra twa owuo de3 nanso y3 pre daaa nkwa”

And with God in your journey, “daa nkwa no wobefa no kwa


DaCosta de poet.

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If l can’t get to the clouds
I will reach for the skies

If l can’t be wealthy
I will reach for comfort

If l can’t get to the moon
I will reach for its light

If l can’t get love from you
I will reach for friendship

If l can’t get to the stars
I will long for its greatness

If l can’t get to the sun
I will long for its brightness

If l can’t be on earth
I will long for heaven

If l can’t get help
I will learn to help

If l can’t get love
I will learn to love

I will rather reach for the skies
To illuminate the world with its brightness

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Home Sick by Linda Okafor

Home sick

My mind REMINISCE those times
When Flies were cherished not to be hurt
When mama knows her dignity
And teaches her lass virtue.

I sit on this TREE remembering
Those days when thiefs are scared
Of the owner of the house
And not combating ownership
Title with the owner.

Now it’s a mere flashback
When my country maintained
Culture and dignity,
Immorality was abnormality

It’s far gone when the Hausas loved
The Yorubas, the Igbo man
Cared for the Tivs
And the Yorubas defend the Idomas

I wish it could be restored,
That time that our leaders kept the pledge; to serve my country with all
My strength
I’m home sick, I wish to go back to
That home, that detest inhumane deeds

I’m home sick, I want to go back to my home
Where peace exist among
Men of different tribes,
where mothers are virtuous
And fathers sincere.

I’m home sick, let me go back to my home
Where morality is practiced.

Linda Okafor ??
Zealous poetess ✨

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