Nigeria a nation shrowded in darkness - Nigerian poets react

Nigeria a nation shrowded in darkness - Nigerian poets react

What is read in the news these days is enough make every well meaning Nigerian sad, much more make them afraid for their future, the future of their children and that of their fatherland.There tends to be no sector of the country which is really doing well. The Nigerian Senate is plagued with its leaders faces charges for which many would have thrown in the towel. There are indications that the house is divided,even on the issue of the leadership of Nigeria by President Muhammadu Buhari. Trust is lost,truth is missing and we have no virtues anymore.The media feasts on the ills that tends to multiply by the day, a miracle is urgently needed to save the nation.These poets have reacted to the Nigerian situation, however, their poems cuts beyond Nigeria and Africa, to a world that seem to have lost its way. The madness is everywhere, death is not the worst we fear, we fear more what living has become.The First Tooth.The first tooth wasn’t lured by oil and saltTo breaking the seal of the gumThe first tooth was called up by milk.…Milk in form of life itself.The first tooth fell in a coupFor the want of oil, spice and wineFor the want of meat, red and whiteFor the want of caffeine and plastics.And life went-on with the chewing of all these thingsAnd the king tooth changed in colorThat it’s become yellow, green, grey and blackAnd it’s all colors except its firstThat in strength, it curves the cap of a cork…and let the gas to the skies;That it tears the bark of the earth and let the tears flowAnd in height, it’s become a fangAnd grow beyond the circles of the lipsTo scare sweat and blood off poresAnd thereafter, fall and lost in wingless dust.Now with this tooth, we can find the truth……the coup that led the first tooth to the roofIn the company of seven earthly angels.
Dare Dan is a spoken word poet. He lives in Lagos and work in Lagos. He goes by the handle @damilaredan121 on twitter.Lost MemoryDark mood.BroodIt seems we’ve forgottenHow joyfully we walked intoPromises made by coming soonDo we need a new pair of shoeOr we are peering into holesAs our penchants dictate that we shouldHe went viral, saying yes we canFour years after, he appears as if carrying an empty canBlack hair turning whiteA tea party never thought hiatus was fun, and were now running wildReal commonsense saw signsA speech which began by a praise of his wifeTurned his fortunes aroundSo he won another roundNow ratings show him trending higher than Ronald ever didI wish I can tell you, he’s perfect in everythingHis words often are not polishedHe has a history of deeds, and myriad of things he abolishedHis flaws often gapeHeavily accented words, which gives few awayYou may have been to his gallery, his collections are scantThey say he’s a protectionist, that may be his artIt’s true things are slowIt’s true we’ve moved back, and basic radiance is now a dimmer shade of normal glowBut I can feel a train comingRemember the night was stormyIf rain comes in the morningIn the early days, a lover judges intentionsWhen x walked away from math, it was because x placed her in detentionDividends were stuck in vandalized pipelinesAn apple sliced down the middle, was divvied even furtherSo they could shower in the public fountain and glisten longer in the limelightThey seeded lands to girl-takersTurned their own warriors to serial undertakersDebts followed emptied tillsIn the aftermath of a disaster, we discovered how stealing killsIt’s often sad how garbage cannot be left in thetrashBecause of artificial tribal marksTwo seeing eyes could be blinded by prejudiceIt will also color the mind and poison the tongueA half full glass thereafter looks half emptyMaking every one of us feel our conditions have never been worseBecause we have mostly lost our memory…By Akeem OyalowoGo tell my sonGo tell my son…the things he sees todaythat glow with glitz and might,are things we saw beforebowed to hollow naught.Tell him…the seed he plants todayshall bear fruitsof good or illsthat’ll feed his nation’s bowelremind him…that life is full of thornsthat hide in transient homewhere saints are robbed of garband crowned with thorny tagsencourage him…never to date a causeto tear a man apartwith  pleasant spiteful wordsto win an oath of thanksprod him…to denounce his wedding vowsto things that fade with timeand sign a seal of love witheternity’s friendly br*astscounsel him…to open a heart accountwhere deposits of love are keptto earn bounty yieldsRemind him…to forget not the days of humble start,when poverty courted usAnd spend as wise he canThe wealth he has for nowWarn him…this path he chose to threadshall bring pain and gain along,but love shall see him throughwhen fouled by aching throes.Here I am nowstripped off - of life’s vanity’s veilwhere all I had beforerests on transient’s deskAdvise him…to attend funeral servicewhere kings are lowered to dustperhaps that will make him seethe twists that life presentsAllow him…to make his heartfelt choicewhen adulthood beckons on himso he may make his fallsand take a cue from that.Tell him,,,I swear I’ll cry againif he fails to heed my wordsand do the things he shouldthat lead to lofty Heights.Mikail Oluwadare Bashir is a creative writer. His passion for the screen led him to HamptonCourt Studio UK, where he obtained a Diploma in Screenwriting in 2009. He has attended local and international residencies. His poems had been published both in print media and online.