POEMS READ AT LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 6 EPISODE 3 "WAR"

WAR

Cometh the hour, cometh the man

By popular demand

I have come to you with war

It’s a simple word

Which happens when friendship changes color

And often innocent men are charged with acts of terror

It is not just about blood

Or the leadership of bloodhounds

It is not just of unleashed running dogs

Or the brutality of human greyhounds

It is just about stuff

Real life effects of things, when they get rough

War is error in response

And no matter what, a victim must respond

War is what we caress when we are angry

It is our gnashing of teeth while we are battling

War is the aftermath of our memories

When we conclude that laughter and joy is such boring harmony

It is a rush of adrenalin defined as glory

War is a rationalization of necessary evil

The beginning of the end of everything civil

War is the happiness of the historian

He has a job now, and only victors become Victorian

Check the records

The archduke was murdered in error

And Helen was wrong to kiss him

Odysseus was wrong with his feelings

And if Emeka were to come back to life

We would still tell him, his killings

Started this

To respect the memory of the dead

We would never become friends

We are the thoroughbreds

And you, your kind who were once known to be lacking bread

Seem now to have lost the thread

And have started thinking we could both trend

Using platforms that are similar

I hope what follows to you is familiar

Because believe me it is only for apt for me never to believe you

Your truth says you are the victim

Mine says you lack reason and should be struck dead or tortured in prison

My heart burns at the way look

You are enslaved but your brains have been cooked

In reply she said, my truth is yours

I hoped you would wear more and cover more

But it seems to me you do not know how to be feel shame anymore

Perhaps war will help

In cracking what words cannot resolve

If you cannot win the argument and cannot walk away

War will come in with polished shoes and make someone pay

And there are some who do wish for sooner their ends to come

They have tried to stop breathing but reluctantly gave up and have carried on…

Don’t talk to me about women and children, we are all humans

Have our loving wives concluded dangling rods to be inhuman

Do they in their hearts, think of us now as pets

Who must be pampered and sex now is like being treated at the vets?

Tell me, are ordinary men less inclined to live

Just because war is all their kings worship

When a face can launch a thousand ships

Kings prove anything they can give is utterly cheap

But it’s not a cake you want to bake

How irreplaceable the things they can take

Please gaze into my mind and do not misconstrue

War often is like dreams come true

Like turning water taps on and discovering it pours oil

Like discovering yams and plantain, to hence study the make of the soil

Like entering the city of sheba, to discover a beautiful queen

All is fair in love and war, and all women have a chance of giving birth to twins

War is simple

It’s a word often used by those gleaming with dimples

It is done in the name of the people

And if millions starve and hundreds of thousands fall, only he with the flag and eagle

Enters the books

War lets us know what has been cooked

Like the tale of the north falling to the guns of only six hundred

And that all Paris wanted from Helen was for her to undress

War often is the unlearning of facts

And if you experience it, your liege is without tact

War is a prayer point

I want all my enemies loosened at the joints

War for me is like going to work

Every day from eight to four

War is all about winning her heart and winning over the parents

Owning the product and distributing the patent

War is when finally I succumb

That the state believes I am better off with crumbs

War is democracy in the making

And armies exist to make you behave

When you are looking forward to fulfilled promises and is patiently waiting…

Akeem Adetayo Oyalowo

March 2 2015.

THE SELF

Boom! Crash! Blood!

Pain and Flood

A cloud of judgement

In a plough

Calmly confused

What had transpired

Flowed in thoughts

Before he met his guardian

A few seconds back

No pain just dreams

Rushing to the next stop

Valentine saw the smile

Wait was the word

Patience was the deed

Self was the goal

It was a road

Self became flood

Rush had no hurry

Time did not stand still

Memory did

Road runner stops

To look at the wolf

It was not race track

Not catnip nor krypton

Regret tells the story

No longer visible

He stood

Starring at his decisions

Oluwemimo Bonuola

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Amidst this waging war
Buzzing flames
Consuming the courage of men
Fresh blood
Making memorable artworks on canvas of snow
Smoke souring into the air
Birthing dark clouds
With no hopes of rain

Swords clanking
Everyman fighting
All that matters is living
Amidst this waging war
Two dying souls
Laid side by side
Telling tales of making love in caves
Oblivious of the extant chaos
The red blood
Painted season of love
The flames,
Burnt passion beyond death
This imminent death
Can't stop me from kissing you one last time

With a sword through my heart
Blood gushing from my mouth
Flanked on both sides by war
Extending to the seashore
And raising the desert sands up north
With death's incense putting me to sleep
Still I'll find time
To fall in love, again.

AJIJOLA HABEEB

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MY WAR

Resurrecting what was buried

In the sands of time

As the cycle closes

All that is dead is awakened

To pass through the mills

The war is fought within

There, where it is won or lost

Where beauty or the beast lives

Lies gloom or paradise

Choices are free

Free choices

A process

Not free

When mature

In the island of hope

I sow my trust

In the river of Love

I shall swim

As I experience Justice

My war is within

  

IFEANYI OKWOSHA

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NIGERIAN LOVE STORY

Babe,babe,yes you babe.
Look me for eye i wan talk to u.
I wan reason mata with u.
Shebi u go love me the Nigerian way?.
Me i wan be ur noun
Anything you name i go buy.
I wan be your verb.
Babe me na action man.
Na only action full my bodi.
Babe my love for you be like Nsu.
God forbid,e no go ever expire.
My love for you be like Nigerian fuel price.
Babim na up up the love dey go.
I love u pass as tonto dikeh love bleaching cream.
Roses,dandelions,lillies and hibiscus i no fit buy.
But for you i go measure Egusi,buy Ugu and waterleaf.
Sisi I know say dem be your favourite flowers.

Babe ur luv dey do me like Peppersoup.
E dey bring water to my eyes.
But na tears of Joy you dey bring.
Babe ur love dey do me like Army man slap.
The thing dey restore factory setting.
Babe my love for you be like poetry.
Sisi the thing dey jam packed with powerful emotion.

Babe abeg i wan make you carry me for mind.
That part of ur mind wey you keep ur goals,aspirations and dreams.
Involve me for ur plans.
Make me and You together
Become conjuction
Make we build our Nigerian Love story.

UGOCHUKWU EMEBIRIODO

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LET’S JUST CALL DEATH ‘BEAUTIFUL’

I
Let’s just call death ‘beautiful’
Tonight, let’s improvise
Let’s fix him a chair free of dirt
Let’s clean the foot mat off the grains of earth
Let’s set him a dining and wish him safe on his journey of burden
II
If death won’t come… if he won’t come tonight
Let him resist sending any of his relatives
Who will only sit by the window shed
And whistle away the silence of night
Or that, who will only hover the roof like dark sky
and deny the warm earth its cold tears
This poem is to strike you dead and bring you alive
With the deceitfulness of flesh and truthfulness of bone
… the faithfulness of bone
III
I have been to the seven dens of sin
and find death host no feast
of all that I have known of beauty
innocence is prime
and death, having gone as swift as he has come
leaves innocence permanently on the face of a life
so let’s just call death beautiful
tonight, let’s improvise.

DARE DAN

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THE SUN IS RISING

The sun is rising

But I shiver in spite of it

In the memory of trekkers I have pass through

To be feverish in the shadow days of childhood

Days of darkness, days of ignorance

The nightmare of market days

Still alive in my eternal memory

Those strange days

Which smother sweet dreams

Within the crowd of the market

Under the canter of our mothers

Safeguarding the four angles

With old stinking wrappers

Those strange days

Tyrannized dreams we should have had

With lustful zeal of being the father

And a girl-child being the mother

Then, we had full length drama

Drama that burnt unconscious dreams

The sun is rising these days

With jacks of guilt upon my conscience

Generations had lost behind me

And new ones are having same nightmares

I cannot go without waking them

They must be conscious of their golden dreams

I offer them a thousand screams

Screams of graveyard, screams of vulture

Screams that wake the long sleeping dead

To wake them from their unconsciousness

They have long gone in their nightmare

Like a moon abandoned in the wilderness

BADA YUSUF AMOO

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A GAME FOR LOSERS

Nobody really plans to start a war

It’s like having to do an unwanted chore

An endless cycle of ‘hate’ ‘defense’ ‘folly’ ‘pride’

‘shortsightedness’  or ‘revenge’ …you decide.

Everybody loses in the end

There’s no need to pretend

As friends turn on friends

Backstage playing harps

Are blood thirsty political sharks

Handicapped by their cravings and blinded by their lust

They play while destiny’s are simultaneously crushed

Nobody really plans to start a war

But it only ever ends….moments before.

ERHIO OBODO

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PLAY THAT TAPE AGAIN

Play that tape again

If we that have ears

Have refused to hear

Play it for the deaf

Maybe they can hear

What disaster that draws near.

Play that tape again

Let's hear the profaine

Let the tape roll their insanity

Maybe we can deduce sanity

From the syllable of profanity.

Play us that part

Where the laborers

Spoke about 'rig'

Or was it 'bed ridge"

That my ears heard?

And let's hear those voices

Of traitors who have been making noises

Play that tape again

Let it roll in the stereo of our mind

One which we shall not forget

For years to come

We shall tell our kids of it

How men sold their dignity

At the detriment of our unity.

Do not hide it

It has been leaked

And if you burn it

Our minds shall make duplicates of it

Through our tongues

And it shall implore our hands

To write of it again

and the pen shall dance steps of letters

To show the world we lived to see this.

Yes we lived to see

Our feets step on defecations

And our bodies bathed with shame.

We lived to see polluted power

We lived to see merited madness

And the nation's treasury become personal kolo*

Play that tape again

Let it play us to warning

Of how men in lust for power

Would love to joggle one's destiny

And threaten to send men to the gallows

For refusing to drink from the same tea cup.

Play that tape again

Let it play our brains to rethink

Of what beholds this sinking nation.

Let it be a forewarner

Before we raise a banner

Beguiled as transformation but deformation.

MUYIDEEN AYINLA

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WAR

War like a hymen when broken cannot easily be forgotten

War the ravager of women, children and also men

Men ask for war like a stubborn child ask for a snake

Men speak of war but when war speaks  . . .mmgh

When war speaks those who speak of war melt

War speaks with a loud voice and the next generation hears

But it’s soon forgotten like a mist that lasts only the morning

War make sorrows common and joy a fable

War performs prolific fates’ script

And we must bow to our fate no matter the cost

When darkness comes and fear sets in war is the nightmare it brings

It is said that when chi calls men and they don’t listen war is what it brings

A man’s chi most times leave him when war comes

Men threaten war hahahaha war laughs

At these finite naïve infant beings who don’t know

Where were they when the heavenlies shook

Where were they when angels were cast down

War laughs for when he comes

Heads will be served for dinner.

CHISOM OHUAKA

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LET ME!
Dance in the stadia of life
With thankful gesture                                     

The dance of warriors                                 

That I may demonstrate with every motion
The act which christen' me Victor

Let me!
Let my tongue speak effusively ;
The eloquence which endears
The listening of mankind amidst life' malady
The truth which cuts across the slums And dark corridors of hierarchy,
Set upon the blood and tears of the Frail;
Walls decorated with deceit and treachery

Let me!
Stand; a sign post yet alone
Across the divides of truth and modern philosophy,
Born of apostacy and spherical fantasies
That with my arm held forth,
I may hold the torch which blaze the path of repentance and eternity

Let me !
Live full of his glory
That I may die, empty a sacrifice consumed on the alter of service
Let me live!
Oh let me!

FABIAN MCROB UGBECHIE

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TEACHING MY DAUGHTER TO PISS UP WALLS

You asked the gods

If spiders sweat,

If water could be held in a basket;

Daughter you struck some wrong chords

And now you must dance to the rhythm of ants beneath your skirt.

You dared me to rhyme,

To make for Esau a stew with curry and thyme,

To make an old friend,

To begin from the end;

To stitch the temples veil, that which the lambs bleating did rend.

Too easy a task,

Even toddlers know

Masquerades are mere men behind an awful mask;

Of course every arrow needs a bow,

Rhyming is summer, in it the birds must bask.

Too bad you only just knew

Of rhyme sugar in rhythm tea served in imagery’s cup,

C’mon that was last served at the Lord’s sup;

The gentiles did not betray the cool Jew,

Funny when he left the piano, only the blind boy knew.

Of course

Powerful words paint potent pictures,

But old Bartimaeus and new Steves different dimensions captures;

Beware the salvation you seek in the scriptures,

Look up, there’s a brazen serpent on the cross.

Every line that rhymes holds a lie,

Rags for one is regal in another’s eye,

How sad that not all flowers possess teeth;

Imagine the sculptor’s joy when the statue first kicks its feet,

O! Daughter Shakespeare is dead in peace; in piece please let him die.

SOONEST NATHANIEL

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THE ANATOMY OF WAR

The anatomy of war.     

Sun Tzus art of war.       

The 48 laws of power.     

50 cents 50th law.                       

 Learning the uses of power in the prosecution of war.     

The hammerhead.         

The mailed fist.       

Frederick Forsyth and the Dogs of war.               

The war to end all wars.   

The second war.           

The two Koreas.       

Biafra and its half of the yellow sun.               

Kenya and the parboiled Mau Mau wars.                                                                         

Afghanistan.                   

Iraq.                   

Syria.                 

Libya.                               

Lebanon.             

Samaria and Judea

Georgia on my mind.         

First the Crimea and now Ukraine.         

The two Sudans.       

The psychology of disagreement

The physiology of quarrelling.   

The physics of disenchantment.                 

The biology of dissimulation.   

The dissection of battle.     

The delineation of conflict.   

The management of disillusionment.             

The marketing of vitriol.         

The bottling of bitterness.   

The coagulation of choler.   

War, rumours of, clogging our psychic space.               

The reality of, disturbing the equilibrium of our earth bound lives.         

Low level internecine warfare.

Not formulaic ground movement of troops in lineal formulation.       

Ghouls weaving through the equatorial density of multiplied Sambisas.           

Hard to hit.     

Slippery as whirling dervishes.         

War.                                 

Peace by other means.           

Making war in order to find peace.                       

Not turning the National other cheek. 

Refusing to go the extra mile. 

Taking it to the mat.         

Canonical just wars for the preservation of territorial integrity.                       

Anything goes.             

Almost.             

Inspite of human rights and wrongs

In the climate of the time and times

Explanations, justifications, clarification and sometimes disinformation.               

This is war

Where the casualties, the first of which is truth, multiply and die.

ANDREW WHYTE

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THE AUDACITY OF NON CONFORMANCE

We fight a war within ourselves

This war began even before we were born

And will be fought after we are long gone

Our fore fathers were not left

And those before them had their fair share

We fight this war sometimes alone

Sometimes the war is fought for us

Without regard for our free will

If we could but once observe

That no one cares

This way or that

That our hat is askew or

Our skirts do sweep the streets

If we could but once realize

That the sky will not fall to the ground

Neither will the moon cease to shine

If we do not have a law degree

Or a thousand dollars in a bank account

So what if my shoes are red

After all even the judge forgot to bow!

KEMIBON