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| WINNER POEM OF THE MONTH |
LIMITLESS SKIES – POEM OF THE MONTH
You may
choose not to agree or see
The thin
line between need and greed
You may
think its mean
To consider
needs as greed
Or the needy
greedy
But it is
somewhat tough
To know when
it's enough
To know when
to stop
When to hop
on to the train of contentment
And leave
the basement
That fine
moment
You realize
You already
have the prize
It's not
about being frugal
Or placing
straw on a camel
But at that
moment
Needs
dwindle
Dangling
carrots get ignored
There's
suddenly a limit to more
Debits
become credits
Baskets
become buckets
Cracked eggs
make omelets
Rags get
turned into puppets
To see the
thin line between need and greed
First
picture how some seeds
Birth weeds.
Erhio
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THESE CREEDS OF MEN
The unborn
thoughts threaten our sanity
The air is
thick with them
All the
senses feel the tension
Every
opportunity shows its fruit
As we plunge
ever deeper into normalizing insanity
These creeds
of men
Made by men
For men and their
vices
They affirm
it is in His honour
And lead
only to Him
To give
credence to their authority
The creed of
men chose the thief
Their kind
over the innocent
And still do
the same today
The form
changes
They change
their cloak
They think
they are wiser
As they head
south
In creeds
vast desert
There will
always be an oasis
Ifeanyi Okwosha
////////////////////////////////////////
*HUMANE HYPOCRISY*
A menace, a
spiritual disaster.
Which human
dwells in.
It is above
conquest they say,
while it
depletes humanity.
Fallen nations,
Innocent deaths,
as a human
find satisfaction
in his
brother's asset.
Meanwhile,
he has got millions of it.
Brothers of
Joseph,
of the same
blood and gene,
forsook
their genuiness,
and embraced
greed as a companion.
Actions
birth reactions.
Greed birth
conflicts with no resolutions.
A rich man
in a mansion,
killed his
poor friend over a land.
It is a form
of passion,
as it drives
its host crazy.
He drives
hard to satisfy
the
intuitions of the devil in the guise of exuberance.
Its cure
sinks into Earth every second,
as humans
fail to recognize its significance.
Even when
they claim to have search its four poles
to no avail.
Humane hypocrisy; a stale tale.
–JesusOfLagos
/////////////////////////////////////////
BANDAGE
I'm a man
with damaged soul
Breathing
with a worse heart
Like old
furniture
Bless with the clearest biggest eye
And unable
to see the world
When I have
sealed in life prison
Like caging
birds
Tapeworm
termites and invisible wicked insects
Were turning
my body to their perfect home like Rome
And bones to
playing toy
As the
stunning moon insisted to frying me like suyar meat
Life too
playing me like soccer football
Pundit
Yusuf Adisa
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LETTER TO MY FELLOW BLUE BUTTERFLIES
this poem is
water;
an open
letter
to the
fellow blue butterflies
that fly on
my head.
it's a
letter; a poem
that
soliloquies, &
reads the
notes on our grief.
dear fellow
chained blue butterflies,
i read in
the book
written by
the fingers
of our
grandfathers
that all the
boys
in our city
were meant
to write
memoirs;
memoirs on
how they
enjoyed the
wind
of our
fatherland. but here
we're,
reading the red notes
that
resemble my father's blood.
& i
asked the standing moon
of our
galvanized homes. i asked
the
gallivanting sun on the men
who
swallowed our land. all silent,
afraid of
being taken by rough
men. &
the fearless stars
escaped the
imminent sky
and said
motherland’s eaten
by the men
we hanker to
have our
heads touched
by their
cruel hands.
dear pained
fellow blue butterflies,
it's now the
beginning of the end;
the drum’s
to be beaten, again.
remember,
it's our fingerprints
that can
give them another breath
that might
rain us an acid rain, again.
Salim Yakubu Akko
//////////////////////////////////////////
GREED
Saw a mad
man smiling today,
There was a
swagger about his feet’s,
He must have
found treasure.
What kind of
treasure?
An hidden
buffet?
In
cellophane bags
His treasure
unfolds
Grey headed
bread,
Crippled
sardines,
Lazy
fruits
Stuffs
Saw a normal
man today.
There was a
drag on his step
Two
daughters, Side by side
He must have
lost treasure
What kind of
treasure?
A bundle of
fame?
In cellophane
bags,
His treasure
missing
Leaves from
trees
trees called
banks
Can’t take
note
Currency’s
fool
Blind to
podium,
Olympic
stands,
Of both
treasures
by his side
Who is
really
really Mad?
AlexDeScribe
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////
GREED
She is that
woman in charge
Serving
party jollof and meat
"Yes
it's finished" she yells
But goes
home with a black nylon
Enough to
feed a community.
She is that
woman in black
Soaking in
loud tears for the loss
"He was
such a good man" she cries
But reddens
her lips with his blood
To
amass wealth, she killed him.
She is that
woman in the office
Sitting in
the heart of the governor
"You'll
be richer" she whispers
Projects
undone; hospitals dilapidated
Corruption
blew a kiss to embezzlement.
She's that
woman in church
Watching
over the tithes and offerings
"Falsify
figures" she suggests
Even God,
Himself understands this
You eat from
where you work.
Esther Okekwuo (REHTSE)
/////////////////////////////////////
GREED:
Pride,
greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath and sloth, these seven in addition to their
close cousins, sadness and vainglory.
But the one
under consideration is greed.
A thing
which drove Marlowe's Faustus, amidst all the confusions and contusions of
life, learning and literature.
A subset of
which is, making many endless books, which weigh down the psyche and the
collective unconscious.
A doctrine
of good greed as propounded by the Gekko of Wall Street and Ayn Rand's Virtuous
Selfishness, which results in isolation and suicide for the rich and envy and
murder for the poor.
At least,
Dostoyevsky's peroration in the Brothers Karamazov drives that belief.
Greed is
good by some reckoning, because it can serve some beneficial purpose in the
context of motivation and inspiration;
making the
push for better, bigger and faster
social and economic outcomes.
than they have.
But greed is
not good.
It is
tripled with avarice and lusty epithumia.
Altruism is
better, but has little or no sex appeal; no drive, no oomph nor charisma.
Declare your
Jihad on greed and all it's relatives, seen and unseen, and then you can fully
unleash all of your light, if I understand all that Al Ghazali is saying.
Greed is a
torrent which overturns the good of life and derails the trains of advancement
and development.
ANDREW WHYTE
///////////////////////////////////
MEN DO CRY
Men do cry
For I know
what the eyes of a father
Looks like
When they
see
The shallow
graves
Of their
sons
Dug by greed
Greed is a
lazy worker
With
sparkling lights
And flurry
sounds
But often
dies before
The lights
shine the brightest
Greed strips
a man
Make him
stretch out his hands like palm fronds
Swaying to
every stranger
Gaunt eyes
like the eyes of poverty
Non-descript
Empty
Chisom
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