GIRL!!
- Poem of the month
This one is a memo for my girls ‘em!
The sky is falling, Girl,
Let’s hold hands while catching it.
Happiness isn’t a given, Girl,
It’s your job to hack it.
Power is never bestowed, Girl,
You’ve got to grab it.
Oh! I’m so tired of being stereotyped, Girl,
You aint even started.
Let’s just dance around these issues because Girl,
The world isn’t ready.
You are too loud, too strong willed, delusional,
Don’t know your place, Girl,
There is nothing new!
The Message
This message is clearly not of love, but Girl,
I love to preach it!
Oh, Feminism is bitter but Girl,
It fights your battles
Equality is the norm, but Girl
They love to twist it
They selling equity but Girl,
No equilibrium.
you love to work, love to clean, love to boss,
love to love, love to serve, Girl just go do it.
365 days, be kinging and queening, Girl,
However you like it.
And what’s more Girl,
I love to see it!
LOLADE OYE AJAYI
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Give Back My Soul & Take My Body
in this one, my mother is a back pain;
the reason I can't lay to bed since three
fortnights
she places her age-old cauldron over
my head—the fire
burning wild in blue flame. she never asked
why I disappeared in a scene of combustion
folded with waves of various wavelengths
stashed at a migraines fingertips
this is what we give; my mother and I
that we give to make peace
she has all the answers hung by the
dusty corners of her boudoir
look! look again!
this is what she gives; my mother
that she gives to make peace
to blink my tears away
to turn the telly off of those who watch as
grief
envelopes an innocent body like a
cocoon does a budding butterfly
this is what i give; i a butterfly
learning how not to do what i do best; to fly
to make do with the laundry ongoing in my
head
Olaitan Humble
//////////////////////////////////////////////////
Queen
of Philippines
Queen of Philippines
She is to me like pink
Sweet, blush
When my eyes rest on her fresh bloom
I feel a tug in my heart
Love
So perfect, this gift of nature.
Kemibon
///////////////////////////////////
GIVEN
'What's on your mind?'
fleets of cars?
Or sheets of scars?
What's on your mind?
darkness and luxury?
Or sadness and fury?
What's on your mind?
dark fantasies?
Or stark miseries?
Your mind? Or our mind?
What is there to find?
Or are we all blind?
Whatever it is on our mind
Is either given to us
Or given by us.
Chima Daniel
//////////////////////////////////
GIVEN:
POETRY
Gifted are these words
To fingers that scribed them,
Gifted are these words
To voices that speak them,
Gifted shall it be
To minds buried
Beneath landlocked sand grains.
They shall become your beam of light,
Healer of your soul.
Poetry is your messiah,
A pot of ink,
The burnt offering to gods,
The day and night
Watchers of your soul.
Your mind shall see the light,
You shall be free.
Kolade
Olawale Kabir Àdèlé
////////////////////
TO
DOMINATE IN A CONTEST
Our deepest phobia,
Is not we are going to quibble.
Our deepest phobia,
Is no we are going to quite.
Our deepest phobia,
Is to concentrate on our mission.
We have professor,
Who am I, to brilliant, talented,
Who am I, not to be?
We were born to manifest the glory of God,
That is within us.
Why are we misusing it?
Those women are the glory of God,
But we destroy the life story,
Just for 5 minutes enjoyment,
And forever sorrow.
We have let our own light dark,
Because we follow our heart desires,
Not care for others,
We off the glory light,
And turn the entire life on darkness,
Because of our stupidity.
They have turned our girls to windows,
Because they rape them and lift them.
They destroy the life our future wife,
And spoil tomorrow.
They are not Man,
But Animal,
Those who did not follow the will of God.
They shall not be forgive,
Who so ever commit such a crime,
Rape in our community,
Is nothing but produce bad children to our
community.
Say no to Rape!
A real man never Rape.
Say no to Rape.
Dhikirullahi,
Olayiwolah, Tatanbara.
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////
The
Journey
As he wandered through the forest of his
thoughts
Almost blinded by the storm of his emotions
He stumbled against his insecurities
Sweated from the heat of his fears
Staggered under the weight of his goals
Yet
He could hear
The silent whisperer
Whispering hope
Whispering a way
Whispering Light
The silent words gripping his heart
Yet he stumbled on
He felt glances pricking his skin
As he picked up another rock
To him it was a trophy
Telling how far he had come
To him it was needed
And so he stumbled on
Refusing to let go
Refusing to listen
Refusing to take what was being given
The silent whisperer whispered on
Knowing the wayfarer could hear
Yet he just stumbled on
Keeping on his blindfold
Holding tight his rocks
Grumbling under the weight
He journeyed on
Till he was late.
Erhio
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A Call for Prayer
That
the purity of the sky
shine through the heart of man.
Now! And ever!
That
the soil forgive man's many
trespasses and soil not our toils
but the unwholesome ones.
Now! And ever!
That
the sea and oceans see beyond
man's many afflictions
and seek not retribution
at our doorsteps.
Now! And ever!
That
the rocks, hills,
trees and valleys bears
with man more than a little longer.
Now! And ever!
That
man's unheeding ills
against the flying-diving-crawling neighbours
and the cousins on two and four
turn surely but quickly on man.
Now! And ever!
That
no known and unknown
tongue, creed and colour
shall n'ever subdue the humanity in man.
Now! And ever!
And that,
humanity shall n'ever come to amity
desecrating nature.
Now! And ever!
-Amami H.
///////////////////////////
BROKEN TOGETHER
They sailed on
and on
As the wind
blew ashes of a painful separation
Which the
elements absorbed like a sponge
The void that
was created on this ship
Which set sail
a long time ago
Hoping was like
a mirage
A waking dream
to a sleeping reality
Ashore it was a
calm wind and weather
When they set
sail
Now the tidal
waves of emotions
Have cast them
rudderless and birthed a blurry destination
The sail is
climaxing
Into a swan
song, a dirge
All mingled in
one
Yet as far as
the stars are in adorning the robe of the night sky
To this blue
speck
The pain became
painless
For pain could
not bear the pain they habour
It will kill a
billion and more
But its roots
lie in that that cannot die
For even in
death it lives
They sail on
and on
The anchor is
still very much on deck
As day turns
its pages to weeks, months and years
Within a prison
of the physically free
Ifeanyi Okwosha
//////////////////////////////////
For Brianna – Part 1 – A gift
They say bowed
heads can’t hold a crown
With my head bowed
in humility
You are the
most beautiful crown I can ever wear
When you were
given, there was worship because
You are the
church I am the congregation
I think I was
put on this earth to find love
But I found
you, you are better than love.
Bri
Chisom
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GIVEN 1:
Things that are assumed
and expected.
Philosophical, mathematical underpinnings;
Prepackaged judgements that make scientific
enquiry possible; that allow for philosophical formulations.
Without them, there is no
basis for determining what is.
The things that produce outliers beyond the
pallid self- aggrandizing claims of self-making and pulling up by the
bootstraps.
As if without boots and straps
any pulling can take place.
Understanding that if this is,
then that will be, without shock
and horror or even awe.
Much like Van Til's presuppositionalism-
things so self evident like equality and freedom, that denial no matter how
finessed must be deliberate.
A deliberation attracting swift vilification.
The basis of the simplicity that
is at the other side that is the complexity
of our lives.
Creating a starting point
without which nothing starts.
Ex Nihilo is not a part of the cocktail.
A word used in scientific theory
and hijacked by all the other fields of
study( much as they did with Paradigms and their shifts, an engineering/
physics word coopted and absorbed into management speak)- philosophy, theology.
Even life itself is a given.
And that is where we leave it!
GIVEN 2:
To whom much is given,
much is expected.
From whom much
Is taken, much is expended-
Much rationalization, much explication to
create a balm
for the troubled soul.
Many books.
Much learning.
Of which there is no end;
which makes diviners mad;
which is a weariness to the same
traumatizing traumatized- by oppression- soul!
They took, they were most certainly not
given.
They took Native American lands by dripping
blood on the trail of tears; by tearing out hearts
and burying them at wounded knee.
They took Congo, sight unseen
and never seen- the holocaust practitioner
who never saw the land, but built up his land with it's treasures.
They took African lands and told
us quic quid plantatur solo solo cedit and
told us res ipsa loquitor.
They took
They stole
They were not given.
Now, there are others- who want our sovereign
souls by guarantee.
This time not by force, but by financial
stealth and clout.
The difference this time- they
are both taking and being given.
ANDREW WHYTE
