I had slept in peace
but woke to echoes of gunfire
the kind that doesn’t come from enemies
but from brothers turned into rivals.
It spills like crude oil in rivers
like wildfire tearing through dry hopes
leaving behind nothing
but smoke and dust where life once stood.
I fear for Myanmar
a nation drowning in its own reflection
chasing power like it’s oxygen
believing dominance is destiny.
I remember Sierra Leone
eleven years of blood and ash.
I know how a country collapses slowly
so yes, I fear for Myanmar.
Look at me
At my green eyes and my blonde hair
I'm beautiful
Aren't I?
Look closer
Look at my face
Revolutionised to your likings
To your expectations
You like blue
So I sealed my green eyes away in a case file
A homicide that will never be solved
A cold case you will forget about
But will always linger on my mind like brain freeze
You like brown
So I drenched my hair in crude oil
And soil from your garden
And coffee from your kitchen
Look closely
That I do
As I watch your head turn away
Your presence fade away
And my blue eyes and brown hair
Remain
The feeling-cheated Igbo of Nigeria
Now judges her a worse malaria,
To keep celebrating Donald Trump
While bemoaning his angering dump …
But plans he to start smiling at Biden,
For one should often one’s options widen,
When at stake is life-transforming Crude oil,
With huge pipes channeling it to far-off soil.
The Fast-choking-with-anger Igbo
Might start an emergency Judo
For an ending of his humiliation,
That took off from the day of assimilation.
Now, I see a colder shoulder
To all Negotiation Tables,
A Stone-throwing kid trying a boulder,
And hangmen’s dropping of ropes for cables.
Already, it’s a kung fu- movie – watching people,
Disturbingly worshipped by their cripple.
Colonial master:
A lot was doing faster
Many stubborn chains able to loosen
Like the vessels whom Christ had chosen.
Colonial master:
Hatefully fought by Rasta
But they were also safeguarding Jamaican rights,
Which sometimes would their sanctity lose
In the darkness of tragic nights
At the hands of The Conquered by booze.
This Great Master though was a great slave
To every African cultivable soil
And ready to hysterically rave,
If we twice looked in the direction of our own crude oil
Ever willing to perish wherever it was in huge deposits:
An assertion of blacks and white being irreversible opposites
More than fifty years now he our bridges built,
Whose survival lengthen our Engineers’ guilt
For having worn the same bowler hats
And chances had to use the same enormous CATS
Beside daring to look as much decisive
In the rarest of bow ties, very massive!
Still the shaking out of the Middle East,
Sometimes its carnivals rescheduling or feast’;
An as much engulfing tremor as an earthquake,
A time the normal man there rejects a piece of cake.
Hit targets like Michael Jackson dance,
Witnesses struck dumb by the mischance;
Ripped apart bodies described a free fall,
While answering so early a home call.
As guns sing their rat-tat-tats,
Removed in homage are many hats;
Their nozzles continually obeying fingered triggers,
The meanest blood bath encouraged to linger.
War its appeal loses outside the cinema,
One can’t under a carpet sweep combatants\ dilemma;
A dialogue with the Devil is wisest from far-off distance,
Whoever would forget the Hiroshima instance?
The jihadists’ wars are their passports to paradise,
The ethnics, a rubbishing of tribal ties;
The gulf’s was some guarantee of crude oil,
The Gangsters their macho men’s toil.
An oil port
He is looking on to shore and sees an oil terminal
waiting for the pilot, he may arrive today or tomorrow.
Well he is not going ashore at this Arab port it is
usually boring full of men smoking water pipes talking
excitedly about the next revolution and he knows
as a white man, he viewed with suspicion.
He never understood a culture where women are cattle
sit indoors and wait to be pregnant again.
This is a society of men, and as such, they make a mess
of daily life.
It takes 12 hours to load the ship with crude oil, bound
for Antwerp, which is more like the home he understands
the people there can have a beer in a bar and not starred
at with hatred.
Mind, he knows well the white people have done much
harm in this part of the world, nevertheless he dislikes
their culture, but he doesn´t care to understand them.
what the!
did you say
we the people
are living
in a bad new age
we can no longer
live in a melodramatic
irredeemable way!
oblivious to
what, we do
and how it will
hurt the children
of today
you say
we the community
need to act
in a uncivilized way
clean up this
right away
and do all we can
on this very day
cut down on
things that cause
environment toxic waste
shout no more
crude oil spills
in the river and lakes
and not to live
with plastics
severed up
on our family's
dinner plates
no! you didn't,
just
try and save the World
by getting manhandle
by every cop in the world
whats that you say
its time to
get up and march
its another
fu*k with the
man Friday
Ok! lets do it your way...
With him was a jar of blessing,
Assembled before him were different maiden for their own portion.
Nigeria: A dark maiden went forward,
And on she he poured half of the dreg:
Crude oil, Cocoa, rubber, timber,
limestone, gold, silver, diamond,
ore, Iron, Coal and numerous others.
Then America: A long-nosed colleen agitated:
'Tuteur, to Nigeria have you've poured half of the dreg.
Japan: 'It is but few to us is left'.
Britain: 'Should we by power strife on the remains? '
Asia: '154 countries, to have a drip of the remaining ointment?
And then he said to the maidens:
The wind blown retired to listen.
'I'll pour on you remains but little,
Go get the little used.
And of the dark maiden who's given so many a virtue,
Let's see, what she'll use them to do'.
And then he vacate the meeting.
And now he's still looking.
Nigeria, what have you used them to do?
18: 01: 26: 19: 43
Whatever God you believe in, he must be crazy,
Everywhere in the world there seems to be turmoil;
It seems to me that the Gods have gotten lazy.
In Canada, we have issues with our crude oil,
In the U.S. there are deadly tornadoes, storms;
Everywhere in the world there seems to be- turmoil.
The world nowadays is just full of prickly thorns,
The Gods must be crazy to allow all this to be;
In the U.S - there are deadly tornadoes, storms.
Shooting, stabbing, terrorist! Oh, can you not see,
Refugees of horrible wars are flooding countries;
The Gods must be crazy- to allow all this to be.
Coalition forces attack far off cities,
Global Warming- Canadian balmy winters;
Refugees! Of horrible wars are flooding countries;
Coalition forces- attack, far off cities,
Whatever God you believe in, he must be crazy;
Global Warming, Canadian balmy winters,
It seems to me that the Gods have gotten, lazy.
___________________________
December 25, 2015
Terzanelle
For the contest, The Gods Must be Crazy, sponsor, John Lawless
Fifth Place
As I land,
You hold my hand
As I fall,
You stand me tall
You opened my eyes
Removed my icecap of blindness
To expose my inner core
And showed me that I’m worth so much more
As I bend,
You mould
As I cry,
You show me the how and the why
About the apeman
That added one plus one
As I live and breathe, I evolved
His greatest gift to the world, is love
As I play,
You knelt to pray
As I itch,
You took a stick to teach
As I scratch my head in class
You stretch my mind like hot glass
The mystery of the life was made clear
A seed of knowledge planted where there was only fear
As I raise my hand to reach
You enrich,
As I reflect on your impact
You’re my retrospect
We waste as the greenhouse effect
We burn in crude oil as dinosaurs went extinct
And as mining coal is our goal
We mirror smoke and turmoil
Thank you,
Mnr. Hilary Ramokgopa
Born in a perennial sand storm
Baddies tweet humble extremism
The dove of peace shot down
The white flag glowing crimson
The sand blinds red eyes to the truth
Chronically digging for the anointed oil beneath
To evoke spirituality atop a sharp spear
To mimic the men in drench coats we fear
Compassion as desolate as their desert home
As black and volatile as crude oil aflame
Void of love, confusion like blank dice
Bitter as coarse salt in the Dead sea
Thirsty for knowledge in the sandy ice
Zigzagging targets like tearful bull’s eye
Wink on a weaponised Quran
Chaos high on a flipped brain
An agenda dripping bloody ink
Advancing like an armoured tank
The landscape flattened to Arabia
The exorcist resurrected Hitler
And his offspring seek to avenge
Father and farther into the stone age
Oh I cry for Nigeria!
Revealed sadness from
Book of enlightenment
Opened the dam of tears
That floods away joy
Oh I cry for Nigerians!
Tears crying for freedom
To escape d eyes
And mobbed by a peppered cloth
Patriot of poverty!
Suffering elites!
Wearing d smile of sadness
Enthralled their greatness
Crude oil refined to crude suffering
Oh I cry for Nigeria!
Jobbing unemployment
Receiving salary of calamities
With the roar of great quotes
Taken to knowledge not wisdom
Theories of revolution
Recited like poetic lines
Like a body with no bones
Noising fake development
Publicising engraved unity
With immeasurable hospitality
We accommodate the great Boko!
Ye Hitlers of Nigeria
Your ploys shall be televised
Your spells shall be broken
Exposing d lies under your garments
Like I always say
" There will come a time
When the blurry would be seen
The dumb would be heard
And joy would coup tears
To let smile reign"
*Larry Beryl*
They said we are monkeys of the first order
that they found us grimpering from branch to branch-
they said they found us in our wildest state-
unredeemed and unrefined like crude oil.
They said we were but a primitive breed
No more important as the dirt beneath their feet.
Yet still, our land furnished their barn
Their very women run to our lands for tan-
They holiday here and have taken upon themselves
those very primitvities they had so decried-
They have come begging, to be among us
for their own lands have been defiled tenfold
By the lust of man after man
gross Lechery of woman after woman-
All, the decadence of their society.
Since they have defiled their lands
and made it a haven for the antichrist
They have run to our sweet land
with unfathomable plans in their hand.
Lord bless Africa.
By Gerald Nforche
Though I`ve left the stage of unemployment,
I`m yet to achieve full accomplishment,
I toil to do better by not being a mediocre,
But,yet my skill and strength receive disappointment.
Feel ashamed that I could not even woo you-my love,
due to status that is not ordained from above,
I made several advances which have been turned down,
yet,my heart tinges for you for being a lovely dove.
Give me a chance to show you that I`m amiable,
though my present state may not be acceptable,
I cherish you more than jasper and sweet myrrh,
Allow me to treat you like a queen that is invaluable.
I planned to be a rich crude oil merchant in the past,
but due to my dad`s death, this idea did not last,
I`m working so hard to break away from this incarceration,
For not being where I want to be makes me wane so fast.
Our lamb has finally flashed his mane.
Crashing through the Bush.
Into the Armageddon plane.
Tail twitching, slashing fangs.
He's going to liberate a people shrouded in our blood.
Clean up those weapons of mass destruction.
Make an oasis out of glass, an oasis theology.
That open palm has turned into a fist...on a dime...on a dollar.
Over the top of a barrel of sweet crude oil.
To prove you're not a ***** like those tea partiers think you are.
You're the lion president, feeding our enemies.
While our children go hungry.
It's been a long, hot summer.
Did you know our schools don't have air conditioning?
But I'm getting off topic....
Fruitless war
your biggest blunder...to date
leaky intelligence
trigger finger
eagle-eyed bombs
charring children
lamb to lion
on a dime
on a dollar.
Over the soul of a barrel of bittersweet crude...
Now I'm probably censored for speaking against your wishes.
I could give a $hit.
Let the truth clear your opaque transparencies...
The pinkies are laughing hysterically.
Tea party, anybody?
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