The Glitch of our Children

The glitch of our children;
O our children!
The nagging glitch of the children
Of our generation
That went down the pan;
Who came together
As a fraternity:
Bullying and gulping,
Stealing and killing.
That caused so many
Into panic- station.
Which made many to pant
After those fraternities
That caused sordid behaviour
In our days of schooling,
On those fateful days
Of our nagging indiscipline.

(This poem is featured in “Immortal Verses,” an anthology compiled and annotated by the International Library of Poetry/Poets; and had won several accolades, as in the "Editor’s Choice Award, and a semi- finalist in one of the International poetry Contest, been organised by ILP every month, for amateur and accomplished writers world wide.)


The Leaders of Old- Africa

The leaders of old Africa
are still leading the trail
of devastation;
the land they had devastated,
tarnished all her glistening beauties
and made very awkward and ugly in looking;
so that those charming smiles
she alerted to Europe, in the days
of yore
are now stolen into sudden sadness; we falsely bought
from colonialism the rotten politics
that had made our brains so polished as theirs- definitely
we think like them- very much unwisely.

The leaders of old Africa
are still leading the trail astray
when they would’ve recollected
and think more,
on how to construct the present Africa;
so that her future
may look brighter than the snow of Europe,
and shinning like her own sun,
moon and stars; now deeply dead
in an un- imagineable hell.

The leaders of old Africa
are still leading… they’re mandated
by some ignoranmuses to fill the vaccums
left behind by mellipedes;
now basking in pieces.

Let us recall them in the tones
of Africa- that’s traditional-
and made them understand;
our mood is a dirty waste on them,
once they dare our path- ways…
we the youngsters; born out of this mystery
to bring out the hidden smiles in your burdens
will not hesitate
to tell your grown- up children, the mid- night
folks of their melodramas,
the most crazy logos
in this otherwise and un- orthodoxed democracy.

The leaders of old Africa
are still leading us astray.
they are one brand of thesame leaders who handover
power to; after… and subsequently they want to have wrinkled skins in the throne
and grow grey hairs in the throne,
and decayed absolutely in the throne too.
why should these thesame people
with stingy- thoughts and greedy- senses
still ruling us, in the time of…
when we really need to forge ahead
and live above our head;
think and think
and modelled a future of hopes…

listen; we’ve optioned history a role
to play in your expensive gaming,
and if you venture…
you would remain sleepless in your graves.


The culture of our land

The culture of our land.
o the root of our culture
is dead like dodo;
and we need to re- oil her spoil and sour beans-

I am scared death that the palm- oil
may looses its rustic importance
in the near future…

our culture, our culture,
o our fast dying away culture must be re-define
and made pronounced the serene beauties
surrounding her- that’s the culture
of our land,
of our fore- fore- fathers; I must hold in awe;
and dreaded likewise.

that is our fast fading away culture
that was dug- up from the devastated manure
of Africa
already lavishing in shreds; and
which was cramped down by the modernization
of our ignorant children; languishing in foreign thoughts.
that which we innocently like worms
bought gladly, without much anticipation… and we cannot accommodate;
was made tenable to kill
the roots of Africana in the shamedface Africa.

O you African children,
you are Africans; aren’t you?
O think deeply in Africa….

4. The Regimes gone and now

those regimes gone and now;
nobody knows who is who? And within the caucus
lies a circus of sickle flies
eating up the flavour of our poor nation.

those lines of furious regimes
burning lives like the burning sun,
everybody therein
is a tortoise itself; not working
for the defense of the destitute people
of our land.
not thinking of how to fortify the falling walls
of our land; MOTHER- AFRICA.
and to fumigate it against the rushing mosquitoes
who are desperate to pearse the flower of your undying beauties.

those regimes gone and now,
in those lines of furious regimes;
the leaders were hypocrites-
they were selfish, and like crabs.
they were mindless and wicked.
they were prodigals and respected national looters-
the politicians I mean;
who thief day in and day out;
the people who fritter the treasury of our nation
to make their banks paunchy- they are the politicians and
bloated sycophants…

the law is weak and pale.
the judiciary cannot speak for itself- they are political stooges;
the useful tools of the snakes
under these lines of austire regimes of despots
born out of the un- imagineable wedlock
of colonial imaginations…

In these present regimes; the people
there in
are somewhat missionless and politcally retarded,
the populace don’t mind
and can’t see the front of the nation- they’re just there
not here…
like tortoise and crabs
foiling the process, every now and then.

Is it Mandatory?

I don’t know,for what reasons
and why wouldn’t I care
to know, why the reasons?
is it mandatory?
that these crops of leaders;
both the ones gone sometime ago
in the far past
and these ones who emerged like hungry stars
more recently
and at present;
they are still hungrily pesting
and roaming around the confines of power?

and judging from their stances,
the ones presently groomed
as innocent as they are trickish;
pretending to be the messiahs
of Mother- Africa

it’s painful!
we’ve been hurt, thwarted, violated
and encroached
until we became lame, leprous
and deformed…
we cannot bare our wounded souls out
for the reformation of the so much bartered history
we all shared together right from womb hood.
instead; we are fooled and cowed away
by the sluggish steps of the mellipedes and centipedes
in our land.
so that we ignorantly allowed the follies
of the state to linger on;
killing the flower of the nation
to rot, and dying away suddenly.

it’s painful!
how many years today; the storm is still rolling.
we’ve been infringed, suppressed, exploited
and oppressed
while the country is still wallowing, crawling
and foot dragging…
that’s not justice done to us,
for over five decades or so
man isn’t at ease here;
the environment isn’t warmth:

it’s painful!
you cannot stand up,
you cannot sit down,
you cannot move forward;
and we remained backward,
stagnant, awkward and relunctant to recuperate
and surge on like the lion
of Africa we seemed to be.
you cannot walk on foot,
you cannot travel in car and…
you are being haressed up and down
in our democratic republic
without an egalitarian licence
to liberty-

it’s painful!
you cannot talk,
you cannot go to school,
you cannot take the bulls
by their obstinate horns.
you cannot, my brethren; you cannot…
you cannot be a democratic
representative of the dangling people
orelse you will meet your waterloo.
you cannot be… O you cannot be…
the society is dirty,
our country is ugly.
what’s it; O what’s it?
for how many years now,
the nation is still burning
and growing into mucus.

it’s painful!
that’s execrable; the excrescence
on our land- Oh! It’s excruciating
and misdiagnosing; it is not African:
you cannot be aright
in your natural, legal, political
and economical rights;
you cannot think of to execrate the ill condition
of the state- The vultures and ants
of our land are always in the way, mounting stumbling blocks
to buldoze our salient innovations
that will definitely shoot us to stardom.

it’s violating! That’s
most painful… the people
are here and there; numb with fear- dumfounded;
they cannot speak and feel their burning society.
that’s too bad!
what a horrible condition!
it’s painful!

The sudden Inflation

Why the sudden inflation…?
market woman, why…?
is the day bright?
is everything fair and right?
what’s what
in the market place
of business conscious men and women,
jostling for customers?
is it a big deal?
why is it that the sun
is very hard on us these days?
we’re convulsed and perplexed;
we cannot price and negotiate…
the entire town
is in a brief shock-
the sudden scarcity
of food- stuffs worldwide;
the swelling
of prices countrywide;
and those croakroaches
infested in those smug rooms
surrounding our habitat
are muscling themselves for the cake,
milk and honey
of our land,
bargaining for the public burial
of our dear nation in sobriety:
forgetting to reckon
that the climatic condition
of our state is bad; changing violently everyday-
again; they failed to adapt
as the people are starving
to death nationwide, in their unfathomable numbers.
the crooks and rogues
whom we have bestowed upon
the affairs of the state are frivolous
while the people are consequently stripped naked
of wants,
of their inalienable rights
to live in this habitation
of the vultures and lions.

Speak of your rights…

Speak of your rights
when it is right,
and not when it is not right
then it shall be alright
when you are right.

rise up now,
and speak of your rights;
speak out against the infringement
of your rights-
even when you are manhandled,
feel- free to ponder on
your fundamental rights… and
as a patriotic citizen
of this crumbling nation;
struggle for the attainment and sustenance
of humanity
in our awkward society;
fight for your right with implaccable determination’
you shall reap your rights-
it’s a matter of time
for your rights to ripe…

speak of your rights
come rain or shine
and never got wailed down
by the circumstances
surrounding the air you breath daily;
never you got convulsed
because the atmosphere of our state
is bad,
and not convivial for you to stay-
egg on like the bulls,
surge on like the lions,
fight relentlessly like the elephants
and your rights shall be achieved
in no time…

speak of your rights,
speak out against the fraudulent violations
of you
at the right time;
don’t get weary… it shall be alright
at the appropriate time.
speak out loudly
and let your voices capsized the noise
of the oppressors.


that we can still boast
of some good eggs;
why can’t we sift the wheats
from the chaff?

why can’t we make haste
and don’t make waste…?

that we can still brag
of some good hands;
why can’t we make hay
of the time…
while the sun shines
and create a better state
of strict- minded people?

why can’t we make haste
and don’t make waste…?

that we can still boast
of some good heads;
why can’t we think of how to discard
the rubbish, the bad eggs,
the garbage of our land
and bring forth to the bedridden people
a sort of anew life
with affordable health care, valuable educational system,
tarred and walkable roads,
safe bridges and drinkable water,
stable electricity and…

why can’t we make haste
and don’t make waste…?

What of if on the morrow;
we cannot boast anymore
of these good minds
and what we have in our dispensation,
are rotten mangoes and spoil brutes?
what we would’ve dispense with.
we made to flourish
in our banana republic, and the struggles
and traversing for changes
became a waste of time…

what would we do then?
what can we do then?

that we can still think of
some good minds with visible eyes…
in the jungle
we should wake up from the slumber
to protect and shield
their patriotic innovations to reality
because on the morrow,
if they are being swallowed up
by the fast gathering storms
of today;
and they are being thundered to rest,
we will have ourselves to blame…

why can’t we make haste
and don’t make waste…?



Warri, Nigeria

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