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Mayhem In My Family

Do u hear the drums….
“Nkem” my lovely wife
Even Barnabas the priest runs
Sorry we must leave the barns…
Forget the casavas and harvest
Forget the yams and others
Hurry, hurry let’s leave the barns
Forget your “asah-oke” and wrappers
Just gather my daughters
“Anika, Lola and Ada”
Hide my sons “Sani, Femi, and Obi”
Save them from the recruiting arms men
“Nkem” hurry
For the wind is howling
Dust dash like its going to rain
“Chi”, “Oluwa”, “Ala” and God
Guide us
War is not tasty
Neither is it a curry
Yet these men spice-up life with it.

“Obi” my son
I’ve failed to protect you
Cry if you need to
But I can’t be there to dry your tears
“Chi” guides you
All the way
Your feet must now stamp boldness
Unto the dusty lands “Nkem’s” body forever sleeps
During the dry seasons
Hammertan and dire rains
“Grant Biafra its realm…”

“Femi” my son
“Oluwa” will see you through
For I’ve failed to protect you
Talk if you need to
But I can’t control your emotions
You will walk on hills,
Stony valleys and rocks
Fathers you are made to kill
Same sons, mothers
And daughters you rape
Just like they did to your sisters
“Militants, hoodlums and communal crisis”

“Sani” did you set
Fire on holy crosses?
“Obi” my son why vengeance
Now Shira… religious conflict”
Matter of power
“Sani” battles “Femi”
Brothers turn fierce enemies.

The sandy game of power and rule
Set in bombs and Boko Ha’ram…
“Sani, Femi and Obi”
My sons
Call for ambulance….
The green and white gown is blazing

My children never mind
The sandy game of power
Just ordered
State of emergency
Mayhem just increased in our family

“Sani” my son
I’ve failed to protect you
Go for rehab if you need to
I’m not there to call you to order
“Ala” see you through.

With all their snug riffles
And evading blockages
Not to forget
Aimless shooting and shouting
Which brings nothing but soak eyeballs
My three sons sourly soar!!!

Like beetle my sons command on land
Like flying butterfly in air
They spray dragon fire down like rains
Like soldiers which they are
Robot their hearts is mean
Fighting for the nation and self-centred me,
On sandy game of power
Who claim to be too old for battling
Yet young for embezzlement
Guess we all sourly soar!!!

“Anika, Lola and Ada”
May these words not fall on empty ears
Save the green
Ooo Save the white
Mind you the green is double
Share even
For responsibility not dis-unity
For your brothers
the Unknown legends’
Just ghost away in battlefield..
Raise your kinds
To live not in splitting Biafra
Or abide by the river boundaries
Or set sequins for head-shot
My daughters grow your kinds
To live as one.

The True Poesy




          The University is a rich planet with three pregnant women, One carrying a good child, the second carrying a bad while the last carrying a slightly bad and a slightly good child.

        The university is as organized as the economy as they are governed by a student governing body; SUG, which protects and fight for the students.

On the other hand, most student politicians strive to hold a post all for the sake of ‘hammering’ and looting ‘cash’ from both students and the government.

‘Freshers’ they call the newly admitted. The matriculation day is a memorable day to them.

‘BRING THE MUD AND GET THE CAIN!’ they received a beat ‘but after the wince keep my gift’.

The matriculates match in with their matriculation gown to sign an oat. If the oat swearing was done by an oracle many if not all would have been dead. God so kind, ‘It’s just a paper signing and after it they go for refreshment with parents and well wishers.’


             Students seem serious only when examination is at the collar of their shirts. For most, having a first class is a misery especially the sophomore and the final year student. To the fresher, first class is all they see but shortly after the first semester examination, majority of them FLOP; “DREAMS ARE MISERY”.

For those who are heading down the prohibition grade, often at times become next to a priest. Indeed, Lecturers are of different kinds, thinking about the bad ones, SPOOKY!!

But a student surprisingly can go to a nightclub even at the night before their examination.

             Moreover, the social life is mostly captured by the ‘JJC’. Students who are not bowling love feel not wanted and often at times become ‘winos’. While those who are attached, hooked or even searching, feel the globe is theirs. For the males, jabbering and using fancy things is a common way to trill ‘babes’. Those who got ride cruise the block wining the ladies laurels.



         Most males also won theirs by becoming JACK THE LAD and flying high maybe because they got one two electrical appliance in their room. Unisex in the campus becomes good, bad or stock somewhere in between; it’s MURPHY’S LAW. From observation, 70 percent of the males while 30 percent of the females go around smoking with the idea; ‘SMOKING IS DANGEROUS TO YOUR HEALTH’.

           Though fighting is sporadic in the university now as compared to the passed, they still indulge in cultism but frightened by the cord of rustication.


                 Factually, “I ONLY WISH I CAN MARRY A VIRGIN”. The females so wrongly read freedom by choosing prostitution and lesbianism as their flair, which they cover up by name ‘RUNS GIRLS’ unknown to them that they are ruining their life.

‘How would I associate with a pansy?’ The careless ones even got pregnant, ‘Was it an incubus?’

            Once a gussy gorgeous looking girl says ‘I HAVE JUST A GUY’ then she is either a cripple or she is married. The average and ugly girls are mostly blessed because graduating is a certainty while the ravishing ones have ravishes stories to tell. Girls who never would have worn an anklet or used a brooch of such glamour receive expensive JEWELRY, LOCKETS, BEAUTIFUL PENDENT, MEDALLION, and PEARL NECKLACES AND HOOP EARRINGS from guys who wear cheap wristwatches.


              As the males believes in words like ‘your pleasures are mine, your request are lined….’ even with nothing in their pockets and as long as prostitutes would never get tired of gussying up for the road, social life would never seize from the Universities.

               The most glamorous event is the getting together of students both from within and other universities. Excitingly, students get together for occasions like fashion pageantry, Miss campus, Most handsome guy, most beautiful girl on campus, best dressed, best couples and other stormy awards. All these energize the electrifying atmosphere that for an angry President; the charming smile of a tall slim, spinning waist and cat-working model would make him smile for miles. What an African abundance with talents unmentionable. Your mouth must joyfully blare when your eyes set on them. Secondly, the NUGA games aids in uniting universities and searching for young talents as well as developing sporting activities in the country. All competitors are aware of the arcane role of games and tend to avoid blubbering like little babies when they hear side comments. Students mostly the females who play basketball aside other sporting events like field events, football and track events; dribbling, passing or even making a dunk while holding the hoop isn’t it all but those with bad legs and blemishes had no trousers nor make-ups to cover them, as students who were supposed to be cheering them jeered at them. At the end of the academic run, the graduates are blessed with water and after the scream is the party.

Finally, the university is a memorable fantasy that seizes not but remains in the minds of those who are presently in it and were there; singing ‘it worth to be tasted’, chosen because it tells of the future. The university has opened the Pandora’s Box of evil deeds.




© June 2008


Dingo the Doggy Dog


Men refuse to give them blood yet used them in detecting bloody scenes.

The hood grew in transactions and tranquility, but he vibrated and immersed fear in the hood.

Dingo the doggy dog barked deep and captured the smaller cats… that made more of the soprano sounds.

Tails standing, with the strength of that hatred of man, they all barked in same rhythm.

The chains hurt. Isolated, they felt shame and hungry of taste.

‘I’m leaving here this summer’, Dingo the doggy dog hummed as he battling with his hind and forefoot.

‘We haven’t eaten the meal of our choice. Too bloody, man is wicked.’

Just as he cried out in pains, a beam of light flashed at his face. It was his master.

He raised his ear and muzzled pumping his withers.

Dingo the dog who understands ‘sit and remain quiet’ jumped up and fed on his masters’ flesh.


Oh local, mixed bread and foreign cats, arise let’s see to our freedom.

Beasts of the dark ages, alien, and vampire cats come taste fresh self-hunted blood

Men are gnomes and deserve to die. Out there is our peace of eternity.

Our Otiose services must end. We helped most them gain independence and they despised us.


Arise oh Eskimos, American cocker spaniel, Irish wolfhound, and Labrador retriever.

No more gnashing of our whitish teeth, rebuff swaggering and wagging of our manly tails

Arise oh Rottweiler, Bloodhound, Akita, Bullmastiffs, and Bulldogs. Let the claws twinkle like stars willing to turn red.

For the period of otiose loyalty and stupidity is dead.

No cats shall be kicked out of the house if a new pet is bought. Beautiful Saluki shall grow fat and you Pekingese, tall you will become.

We’ve secured them for way too long. They rather watch us die than to grant us freedom. We were torn, beleaguered, and beaten up. They drove us from the wild forest of sheltered freedom. The chains hurt and contribute to our early death, now we wonder if father cat would return. At least to tell them that we are the king of the forest not the out and out humbug epitaph on their gravestones.

Now it shall not be miraculous, their flesh is ours. With our golden eyes, we stared at them as they fed on our fellow cats.

‘Same Blood…!’

Same Blood that feeds our hearts; we have been humiliated

Even the ants tussles our bones and operate made fool of us, as they tossed the bones at us.

Arise from the deep forest, copse, homes, and streets. Strong, steadfast, and superior we are.

Brave die in the battlefield, fools watch their kinds chained by men.


The summer had come, Dingo the doggy dog, led all cats killing men and gaining freedom forcefully.

Battle won; they celebrated standing on their hinds and showing their brisket.

They passed on bucket filled of fresh human blood. As Dingo was about to sip, something pulled him backward.

His eyes opened; it was all a dream. Dingo the doggy dog and the only father cat brood would never be free until the sky falls. He barked; ‘the chains hurt… I’m leaving here next winter.’

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