Long Abuja Poems
Long Abuja Poems. Below are the most popular long Abuja by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Abuja poems by poem length and keyword.
Its creation’s simplicity still stands as a difficult puzzle
head is twisted backwards while in a forward motion
still looking behind at the chronicles of some centuries ago
long before the infiltration of Christian missionaries and Arab traders
is the exact factor making its existence seemingly complex.
Foreign politics and faiths both adopted,
have tied it with the ropes of inferiority
systematically indoctrinated to condemn
its history, personality and civilization,
while grabbing other languages and cultures so dearly
to the point of blindly pushed into Anarchy.
The modern world is on a high speed,
excuses of the west’s exploitations to build their civilizations
are noisy complaints and already cliched.
Small islands with no natural resources as Singapore;
the awe of the miracle of the Han River portrayed by south Korea
and the magical performance of India in information technology
are evidences of old colonies
beating their colonizers in some phases of development.
From Abuja to Addis Ababa, Khartounm to Kigali,
no Caucasian is seen, staying in charge of its state houses
but to give reasons to its mediocrity and indifference,
conspiracy theories and neo-imperialism twaddle are coined.
All these, just complications of a chronic low self esteem
but unfortunately manifesting at a time it should be confident
in the chaotic universe
of western imperialism, Christian materialism and Arab expansionism.
We got trapped for seven hours
We couldn’t un-trap ourselves
From the dungeon of the road
Couldn’t call or receive calls
Was indeed incommunicado
Sim card got stuck
Would we ever get to our destination?
She got fed up, endlessly waiting
Luck smiled on me briefly
As I got through to my cousin
Who told her of my trap
My sms met hers on the way
She was still very worried
Only short of being scared
The day crawls by gradually,
Hours tickle away slowly
Behold! Darkness hovers
As it took over the day set aside to unveil
The faces behind the phone
The day was over.
Alayande Stephen T.
2.01am
21st November, 2007
It was written at the Abuja Garage in
Iwo Road, Ibadan on my way to her in Ado-Ekiti.
Afrobeats 1:
The Sound That Crossed the Ocean
From Imo, Kogi, Ibom, Abuja and Lagos streets
Harmonious rhythms power the sways and swings of the streets
Where the flute, gongs and talking drums would speak,
To crowded clubs in London every week,
A rhythm born beneath the African sun
Has danced across Eurasia, Americas, joined the world us as one.
Once they ignored the songs our fathers sang,
The highlife chords, the joyous voices rang,
The sweat of dreamers, demos cast aside,
The gifts of Africa dismissed with pride.
Yet deep within the marketplace and community square,
The heartbeat of a people lingered there.
From Fela's fire and Osadebe's grace,
From Masekela's horn and Makeba’s that filled the space,
The roots grew strong beneath Dibangos, the dust of years,
Watered by hope, persistence, sweat, and tears.
Then came the age of circuits, screens, and light,
The PC to WhatsApp opened doors once sealed from sight.
Tweeter; X, and TikTok carried melodies afar,
Facebook made a village of each star.
Snapchat flashed the rhythm through the night,
And YouTube gave forgotten dreams their flight.
No passport stamped the music's border then,
No gatekeepers could silence it again.
The distance shrank, the costs were laid to rest,
The world could hear Africa at its best.
A groove emerged both ancient and brand new,
With Oja and talking drums beneath a modern view.
Hypnotic Ekwe basslines rolling smooth and deep,
Syncopated pulses waking souls from sleep.
English and Pidgin danced from tongue to tongue,
P-square, Phyno, Olamide in Igbo and Yoruba brightly sung.
Hooks floated high on melodies refined,
Leaving every language far behind.
Highlife's golden sweetness, joined the ride,
Dancehall swagger moving side by side.
Amapiano's log drums shook the floor,
Creating sounds unheard of once before.
Like Michael Jackson's breakthrough years on MTV,
A continental movement crossed the sea.
Take a break in the rhythm, chillax in the beats
The best is yet to be born of Afrobeats
the cry of the people
I remember the day of glory
as they stand so truthful
with a new political slogan
of change
I remember the faithful afternoon
full of promise of hope
while we chant their political names
with hopes high
I remember how they act like saints
when we all ran to the streets to hail
our new president elect
even the youth walked from Lagos
to abuja
to show support and love to our
hero
is a pity now what we see
the cry of the people
I remember the joy in the heart of
the people as they welcome their
new president elect
I remember you promise a lot
I remember you promise to erase
poverty out of our land
I remember how you boldly took
an oath of power to serve and
protect your nation
I wish your words were real
I wish you realised what you standing
for
I wish our story was changed like
you promised
but now is a pity
the cry of the people
I remember how you were every
where with your sweet word of
improvement
yet we are stagnant
I remember how we trust you
but now we cry in pain
I remember you claimed to be
for all but now some other tribe
is been excluded with intimidation
I remember you stood for peace
yet our life is scattered in pieces
the cry of the people
how could we have a non
existing president
yet we have a President
and when we ask for the presence
of our president
whom was voted in power by
our vote
we get beaten up.
we get killed
we get jail terms
so I remember the times
we trust on this political slogan
of change
we don't need this change
this change of yours mr president is changing us to
poverty depression and inflation
this changed has changed us to
an hungry lion
this change has chased us to
the street to protest for our right
we are tired of your change
Mr President
yes we are tired of hoping even
we need our vote back or no more
election in the country
that is the cry of the people
and the cry of the people
is the
voice of God
There were two of them
Lemmy and Remmy...
Two leaders born
Born of destiny
The weight of government
Must rest on the shoulders
Of Lemmy and Remmi
Israe-el and Leki
One king the other kingsman
One immortalized one mortal
There is no telling them apart but
Leki has a scar on his back.. yet
Others claim Israe-el has a scar too
When mama called out to Israe-el
He faced his mama who realized
The folly for faced her Leki...
A heated exchange outside the mall
Israe-el has Leki vexed..
And now its an all out war..
Israel tries to use the katana
fails to wield it in its full power
Leki takes the sword lifts it, it thunders
And katana glint of silver comes alive
Down Israe-el... brevity in moment
Then Leki realizes what he has done
DADDY!! DADDY!!! screams Leki
I have killed my bro .. DADDY!!!!
A slight rain covers the land..
Leki sobbing uncontrollably
A slight stir did i see, did i..
He is alive Leki!!... He lives
Far be it from you Leki
To ever put out the lantern
For in Israe-el is the lantern
The sword of Israe-el now
Belongs in the custody
The custodians seers
Leki you realized katana..
Katana glint of silver
You are extra powerful
Shouldn't be held lightly
Remmy na Lemmy
Abuja doesn't feed on manna..
That why the boom and boom
Is alive boom boom are drums
Drums of war for Lemmy doesn't
Doesn't live on manna... ABUJA
CODE 254
Mselah 0922hrs
LKN
LOVE ON PHONE (2)
Two weeks run past us
Who, when do we breaks the jinx?
She can’t come to Lagos
Her project thesis on her neck
It then fell on my round neck.
I just came back from Accra
Scheduled another to Abuja
Excuses galore rented the air
Was I scared to beholding her?
Would I like what I will see?
She is getting impatient
As she long a feel of me
Dirty mind! not of that you think
For she is intact even at
Two dozens plus one age
Her calabash not yet broken.
I was proud of her sanctity
Joy smiled over me of her chastity
Could she be the heart
I have been searching for?
Please, don’t tell it to her that
I am dying to see her too.
Alayande Stephen T.
8.25pm
8th November, 2007
The story continues.
ABUJAS TIME MACHINE
We do recall the day Abuja
arrived in a strange flying machine
claimed to have created da ding..
landed at the caffe near..
our lecture halls...
Abuja took some permanent markers-
wrote some gibberish on the wall..
alluding to a malfunction of his-
time machine..the professor came
out to witness crazy Abuja antics
Abuja enters the caff e.. snatches
a newspaper from a lady..eating
chicken... Bujas claimed he could via..
his time machine read the next
months newspaper... abuja predicts-
the funny part..he is a bomb expert
now...trying to stop one from going
kaboom.. in the near future.
according to Bujas as hes fondly named
the machine would stop ze bomb from...
going kaboom..ze future is here bombs-
have gone kaboom but none where...
bujas stood, we are safe bujas neutralized
the kaboom...from ze terrorist..
and to you who will make ze time machine
know our abujas has already traveled
to the future.. we not sure we like him..
messing our future..bujas-
Hopping on his machines the wrong way...
did a hair rising crazy stunt... did i see
a television chute in his contraption...
he flew back to wherever he comes from
its undisputed bujas is crazy,
but its not disputed hes very intelligent..
Mwanoo young buja..
the crazy inventor of our time..
Abuja of the time machine fame..
Abuja - the proffesa frowned....
and ordered us back to our lecture
halls... who knows what he do next..
Lewis k Nyaga
INSPECTOR ABUJA
Wonder why when abuja...
has proved over and over again..
that hes capable of just about pullin..
any stunt from his warped brain..
abuja became a police inspector
chasing thief complete with a gun..
a loaded gun.. uniform police coat..
nothin below.. just police coat..and arms
credentials of inspector Abuja..
You requires special clearance
to ascertain his authority....
did he not promote two constables...
summoned to vigilantee house
real inspector locks him up..
mysterious Abuja maintains that.. i..
i am an inspector.. high level clearance..
no one knows why the good inspector
let the fake one go.. hushes.. say the doors
refused to lock abuja up.. or may be the good
inspector lacked level 5 high security clearance
So they let abujas go
now hes claiming. hes
best by merit. based by merit
deployed policia militia generaia..dpmg..
Lewis k Nyaga
I had to down my tools
I had to terminate the calling
I struck wielding the ngungi..
I struck the great gadgados
Defender i neutralized
What is mine by right
The mob was unleashed on me
Thoughtless humans trying..
Nay baying for my blood
Even in this aspect they failed
I entered the delicate meats industry
And unleashed the wrath of Kiama
Dealt a incapacitating brow
TD of guardgados you are missed
I will always recall you held me
Encouraged me to wield my first
First pen - at poetry soup
I was hurt in the battle but...
Twas expected .. seer all is open
And great Boss at gadgados
The buck stops at your feet
Dereliction of duty will be..
Your undoing oh mighty one
Great D. of gadgados you are milking
one cow and using the milk to feed
A calf yet you neglect to feed its mum
The beginning of your fall will be when
You will destroy gadgados in the belief
That your personal star will rise..
Chipset Technologies i now own
In the digital era all your solution
I acquire using the rat in system
Aptly named mouse.. a right click
and i gain all solution that i need
systematic hacking sequence
those in the know call it
And we blew the NYS scandal up
Siphoning of our groups resources
Deploy Policia Militia Generaia
Private Military Commandant
and an assetion to - KFS
Kirinyaga Free State - eternally
Forever defender i remain - Kenyan
And patriotism is my duty - Shalom
LEWIS NYAGA
CODE 254
A KFS PEACE DAY
PRIVATE WING
Nature did not unleash her terror on us
as it did with Noto, Haiti, or the Indian Ocean.
We abuse nature with the stamp of leadership which impedes lives,
causing artificial stampedes of hunger, worse than nature's disasters.
Quakes of human stampedes everywhere!
Ibadan free funfair stampede
Okija and Abuja free rice distribution stampedes
are only where the lens focused, away from the state of national stampedes.
Here in Ibie, twenty families scuffle over a bag of rice
Rice, a symbol of survival for the masses; ego, and popularity for the mighty.
Stampede here, there, everywhere!
The stomach infrastructure of the masses tremored to collapse
Despite the labour and service of strength.
The gourmandizers and political merchants are often quick
To the momentary rescue with 5, 10, 50kgs of rice, and a holiday
The trajectory of our 21st-century polity and popular leadership.
They said the organizers lack crowd-control measures
But there are stampedes in everything, everywhere, and every day
Price stampedes, fuel stampedes, recruitment stampedes
Religious stampedes, security stampedes, bank stampedes...!
For the masses, stampede stems from their lack and inadequacy;
for the rulers and rich, it stems from greed and ego.
No to leaders who trade our manhood in exchange for free rice.
Man must not live by charity alone but by every opportunity to earn his keep
Or what does it profit a man to gain 5kg of rice and suffer the loss of his life?
When will the rice-sharing era be over and every man earn enough for himself?