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We’re in a World by Linda Okafor

We’re in a world where
Fantasies are so much fancied
Making the Young folks believe in fallacies.
A world where many fake it to impress others with that delusive painted look.

We’re in a world where
Young lass enthusiastically
Free gift their dignity
both for Eagles, Kites and Hawks
To feast in return for material things.

We’re in a world where
The young lads are too quick to make the hay even when the sun is yet to shine,
To turn money Lords overnight
Is the only mantra on their lips
Installing negative deeds in their minds.

We’re in a world where
The teenagers burn midnight subscription to chat
Instead of midnight candles to read.

We’re in a world where
Decency is nonsense
And indecency is sensible
Where morality is vandalised
And immorality is now the order of the day.

By: Linda Okafor 🇳🇬
Zealous Poetess ✨
18/9/2020

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HopePainPoetry

THE MISTAKE OF A SINGLE MOTHER

Unaware of the mistake that brought her grief and sorrow

She was rejected by those who love her

Her mind like balloon garland of many thoughts

Confusion trails her

The scar is anew in mind’s screen

And her pillow is wet all night

 

Grief has kept on knocking on her door

Anxiety has torn her clothes

And my heart is ripped apart

Nobody to share her broken heart with

Wedding cord is unheld

And the cordless bond had pain in its citrus juice

 

No blessing is tied to this cord

And the shame I dwell in steadily keeps my heart to the kids unborn

Pregnancy out of wedlock, a taboo in her clan

She toiled all day in bulged belly

Born into a land of flesh, the fetus doubled

The pain of raising the kids have stiffened her heart

 

She sleeps and her heart’s awake

Who will raise the kids with her?

Agonized by her mistake

And driven out in the second trimester

In cold and no roof over her

She toiled to feed the joy

That gladdens her heart

 

If her parents were alive

Fate would have smiled

Mother’s love would be like the chess queen protecting the chess Kings unborn

Hatred surged in the heart of those who should have loved

How would she feed the kids?

Misery piles up in her heart

 

The cross l bear is to care for my kids

My womb was a house that kept them warmth

There is no roof to keep them warmth again

Belly buttons tended in ignorance

The love of my kids is an undying flower

That grows in my thought

I love my kids with all heart

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DeathPainPoetry

A LETTER TO BRITAIN

Invaders

Annexationist

Colonial squirms, masters from Europe

Self styled Lord of colonialism

Queen head of a fraudulent country called nigger area

Abysmally created without indigenous consent

 

Blood flows in your creation

And you are quiet O Britain

Your fraud in West Africa is a shelter of blood

And blood roams in the Savannah

Power and greed prompted your fraud

And you brought war to our peaceful villages

Donkey’s years after, death still knocks our doors

 

Your quietness speaks volume And the volume is loud enough to be heard

The shithole is yours

The hellhole is your deed

Lord Fredrick Lugard is the name on our lips each time we die

Britain, the name we call when we are maimed and killed

Does British citizens die this way?

 

Amalgamation was fraudulent

Maiming is our name

Bloodletting is our middle name

And death our surname

Britain is our accuser

And our bodies are in bits

Our blood is spelt in your name O Britain

 

Our heart is ripped

And the world observes a golden silence

Unending sorrow is what we get

When will happiness return to Biafra, where the sun rises?

Three million died from your weapons to keep the fraud O Britain

And yet death still hovers above us

It is only freedom, we crave or we die in the hollow of your silence

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DeathPainPoetry

DEATH’S CRY

From the other side of life

Speaking out is not a crime

Words edified in nuts that only flesh could crack

Posters litter the street like a songster

Of what use?

In death’s vault, here am l

 

 

Mourners gathered in crying

Four cows moo in the cowshed

Seven goats bleat, waiting for the knife’s edge

Drinks heaped in crates

But when alive, poverty stripped me naked

Now dead, pictures stick up together with gum on fences, billboards like a celebrity

 

 

Death tolls its end like a weaverbird that comes and goes

Bruised though you may be

High pitched in mournful cry

Wailing one’s grief in despair

Agono, where were you when ants gathered on the icing cake?

When sickness, suffering, poverty tore thy groove

 

 

 

Not only you

Etuhu, you were starkly rich but spent to the gallery

Now, all gather for a play of money tossing

Gnashing teeth of death’s routine

The wind whistles by

Whilst trees bend to let us pass

 

 

My hurdles passed to the cradle

Now, you play flutes for me and l’m not dancing

You wail for me and l smile

A great chasm separates

It is your turn to have a delusive dream of heaven

When my cloud became pregnant

 

 

There was no nursing mother

Now the sun has gone pale

Eyes bulged out from crying

My face on the posters showing my last

Clouds drifted across the sky

Dashed from the mundane to a land not of flesh

 

 

For one judgement, thou art to face

My soul went to thy Creator

The one, l am holding is greater

All of us, our life is like grass

We grow and flourish like a wild flower

Then the wind blows on it and it’s gone

No one sees it again

 

 

While your eyes drip tears

Your sorrowful faces keep trying to dredge up details of my past

All of us suckled the same nipples

All of us from the same navel string

But who knows what we are dragging

Not birth dates, not age, not wealth

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PainPoetry

Costly Dalliance

My eyes are stocked with Amazement, everything appears to be a joke, I had prayed it was a mere nightmare.
Can someone wake me up from this dreams cos I’m loosing it, yes it’s like a bombshell..

Brother! It’s was all a dalliance, I thought it’s empty as father would always leave it,
I do see father pull the trigger, I never knew it could blew breathe away from thy life.
Oh bloody brother, can you just wink your eyes and tell me you\’re joking,
I never knew a bullet could snatch you away from me.

It was accidental, brother biko wake up, I can’t believe your blood is washing my feet, I just posed the way father used to, holding that point that’s taking you away from me, a mere pull on the trigger has claimed your life.

My dreams of growing up with you is flying away, far up the sky.
How do I tell the world I sent my own blood down the isle of the other world. What will I tell mama?
My heart is exploding, this guilt is much to bear, how do I live with the stigma; he shot his brother dead.

Kee ihe m ga’koro umu-uwa
que vais-je dire au monde
Brother can you just do me this last favor; wake up! Wake up brother, the plot to claim your life I never had. my heart is melting like an ice under the scourging heat. Oh Papa!! Why didn’t you tell me, that this single piece of yours could snatch my only brother away from me?
It’s better I join you, I’ll rather die than live with this guilt.

Bang!! is the onomatopoeic sound of the gun, and the bullet found it\’s way straight into his head.
Oh, thy father has lost two Nations
in just a twinkle of an eye ..

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DeathPainPoetry

DEATH TO DUST

I have made up my mind to go and no coming back

There is no Sucre anymore

The taste is sour

l wished for more but dust l came and dust l shall return to where l came from six feet down the earth

 

A place where termites, moles make a feast of my carcass

Like a growing plant, l died in my mother’s womb and returned to dust

Like a young plant, l grew like petals and attractive

Binged too much and the dust my end

 

Where would my fate lie on?

I know that one day

A hot ball will pierce my skin and l will return to dust

I know that one day

I will fall asleep and never breathe again

 

I know that one day

Two steels might clash

My mortal body maimed beyond repair and the dust my portion

I know that one day

I will eat to death and never breathe again

 

I know l will die a day l don’t know

One day, this beautiful mirror will break

I know that an end had been laid

Who can straighten out what had been made crooked?

 

ChukwuOkikie Abiama, l accept the inevitable

My fate is the dust

And it beats my imagination

Kings, Queens, great and small alike faces this tragic end

From dust, l came and dust I shall return

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AdultFamilyFriendshipLifeLovePainPoetrySpiritual

To The Drunkard’s Daughter

We like to drink,
We love to drink,
We live to drink,

We like drinking,
We enjoy drinking,
We worship drinking,

We drink for the gods
We drink to quest their needs,
We drink to hear their good words

We drink for our ancestors
We drink to connect with their sailors
We are drunk to see their trailers

We do not respond to our names in it
We respond to the gods’ names in it
We fill our ancestors’ hunger in it

We don’t intend a bad name for another,
We replaced worries with candor.
We take out enjoyment for demeanor.

We know it’s our identity;
We bought it with our sanctity.
We carry it on our heads like impossibility.

We know it’s a headcover
We never intend to handover
We know you will comeover

We are sorry you bear our act
We know you hated this fact.
We are thankful for taking pride in our pact.

We know how you felt.
We understand your burst
We apologize for our heist

by;
Al Latif Kambo-Naa

This poem was written as a sequel to Sugar Kpiebaya’s The Drunkard’s Daughter
“Its Father’s day, people are celebrating their Father’s, what do you have to say about your father today? Here is what I have to say…”

https://www.sugarkpiebaya.com/2020/06/21/the-drunkards-daughter/

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PainPoetry

PAINED by Linda Okafor

White is thy heart but stained
Heart nefarious but beautiful to the beholders. Voice sweet, a deceit plot you’d offer. Just like it rains from the eyes of the Crocodile,
you blubed, taking pity on me
But behind the tears, was a mockery smile, You played the drums, summoned thy earth to celebrate my pains.

Heavenly is thy profession to me
But vomits hell in the presence of my absence.
weired it is, to nuture a chameleon
Believing am with the seraphim
A kiss I’d get from you, but lent by Judas
In that parcel is wrapped a gift
Nothing but hatred it contained.
I dig deep, building trust
Building love, but on your rocky heart.

An angel to my face but not so in my absence.
Its like I see love in your eyes but betrayal it has.
You made a semorn, professing to the earth, you are a saint but on a reverse to me.
This betrayal is a trust torture
More poisnous than a venom
Hypocrisy has desolved the trust of men.

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PainPoetry

RAPING PRIDE’S ALTAR

Concealed in your thoughts

Evil minds deepen in despair

Evil thoughts breed evil acts

But you acted in shame and felt proud raping pride

Whom do l tell about this defilement?

Which has made me cry my eyes out

You paddled unrighteousness in the river of your conscience and deflowered Nkombo in brute hatred

 

Your groove of happiness tore her heart and cursed be this day when you defiled pride’s altar

Thy tip’s splurge inside of me brought me pain and hatred and this day, I will never forget

Did I consent to it? Hell No!

Gripped by your deeds

 

Ekwendu must hear this, that his daughter had been forced to reckon with shame

See what you did to her

You ate up a morsel of hatred when you ripped her underclothes

Ndabu tried this and the gods inflicted Ibi ( Swollen Scrotum) on him

And the shame and the pain, he bore knew no bound

 

Evil has a twisted end

See, our culture kept evil at bay

But the bowl of evil which we abhorred has cracked open and we are in shock

In the bowl

Rape has spout evil like a fountain

Her memories echo with the sound of violence and I always see her afflictions and sores before me

 

In this bowl

Rape bore hatred, wickedness, violence, immorality, pain and evil

And what binds us with this evil has been untied and the potency defiled

You punctured the cord of her virginity, raped her dignity and defiled her pride

Which face would she use in the mix of her peers?

At Ngala festival of virginity, she has lost the trophy of fulfilment and pride

Would Oduovo reprieve his interest in the traditional cord?

 

Justice for raped victims

Justice must be served in its full strength

Be it Cultural Justice, Social Justice or legal Justice

Rape in itself is an unpleasant act, capable of destroying life’s essence.

 

By Dim lfeanyichukwu

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AdultApathyDeathPainPoetry

WHEN THE WORLD DIED FOR A BRUTE

Torn Between Brotherhood,
Power and Wealth-
A Sinful Macabre.
Africa will never forget
Buyelekhaya (go back home)”

Dear Mama,

Once there was a cigarette puff,
A certain feeling filled cape of good-hope,
This harrowing scent of a smoky air,
Resulted.
And I wasn’t going to write you anytime soon;
Yet a sealed sill culled through a peaceful piece,

Though I thought I was on brakes, until
I saw the scribbled breaks
“where nothing is, everything is a deal”
written boldly on the back of a shirt
Hanged on a tattered body;
bodies flushed as WC excreta.

It filtered through the thronging brawls,
an unpleasant mix of loud noise
Permeating the sliding walls of the south,
Ejecting your skin color;
Some say it was xenophobia
and others Afrophobia.
But whichever phobia it was, it was a bad phobia.

I know you aren’t searching for understanding
It’s a matter of delicate horror,
What am I talking about?
Answers for the north or the West
Could not fill the vacuum;
but for the benefit of minds
who isn’t aware let me recount?

Once upon a time, in South Africa,
it was ‘do or die’
which befuddled a multicolored great nation;
Sons and daughters of Shaka Zulu,
Shabala Nkulu, Mandela Nelson,
Desmond Tutu, and Steve Biko,

Dehumanized by Sons of Victoria,
Enslaved by daughters of Catherine of Aragon,
Subdued by Beatrix of the Netherlands
And apartheid by the Elizabethan Monarchy.

Roads bifurcated into black and white;
carting black blood
into gloomy rooms called colored, native, and the rest.
Educated, Semi-educated, and manpower,
What Marechera Dambudzo’s tagged, “aesthetic distancing.”

The whole of Africa poured down their blood,
Flesh, Bones, words, fury, tears, and future
Just for the relief of a Sister–South Africa.
We cried, wailed and moaned;
Painful mourning in the dawn of apartheid.

Turned into a tune-up knight in the nights,
Where sons and daughters vanished into calm air.

A city of Saints and Sinners
where they posit as angels,
Commanded an era of good souls
both devoted and undevoted Africans.

Freedom appeared from luckless blood,
An unwanted diagnosis popped up,
They rode on the wheels of it
Cutlass their defenders to death,
Burned their brothers and Sisters
Closed their businesses
All in the name of “foreign”
Angels of yesteryear
have turned devils of today

And if not in Africa, I never knew
or heard of it before.
Probably it happened somewhere else too
And the world came to a stop
For the birth of a brute.

 

Al-Latif Kambon-Naa

Picture Credit: Unknown

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