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Tobechi Njoku Poem
Illusion
It looks like what it is not
It's not always what it seems
All that glitters is not gold
Though it's summer, some feel cold
At the point dream meets reality
Reality may become an illusion
It leaves me blinded in oblivion
Until I say my opinion
We live in a world of illusion
I've seen blind folks with vision
Mirror images give lateral inversion
Yet we admire the distortion
The same way we love to brag
Even when there's nothing in the bag
O'er the board we nag
Weakened by misfortune some sag
On the pulpit mounts a humbug
Tongue spitting gibberish
Hallucination baptised as vision
Ripping off his sole mission
The more we look, the less we see
The devil plays the Saint
Bet not a cent
In the darkness lies the truth
Images in the head like kaleidoscope
Flight of ideas sweet as honey
Ecstasy sweeter than orgasm
'Tis from grass; illusion
Copyright © Tobechi Njoku | Year Posted 2021
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Tobechi Njoku Poem
We live with masquerades
They call for accolades
They wear mean faces
Even when we meet face to face
Every day and night, they loot
Even though we go barefoot
We crown them kings
They take all, even as "kings"
Until hunger and anger reigns
They take all
they think they are winners
Alas, we suffer a hard-knock life
What a life without a wife
With guns and knives, they kill our wives.
Yet we live and believe they are kings
The cup is full and overflowing
Like a disrupted ant colony, the race for survival begins.
Oh! It has to be the new dawn!
Wearing the facade of #endsars, the people reject their masters.
Tanks and boots fill the streets
In the cover of the dark, they commit genocide.
What a cruel world!
The cup is full and overflowing
Hunger raged yet they waged war
Stacked food away from reach
We are sniffing out the food
Like dogs from hood to hood
Possessing our possession,
This is the new obsession
And it is just the beginning
It is not over yet
The masquerades can't stop the provocation
They mock us with their speeches
They suck our blood like leeches
The deprived are speaking
It is just the beginning
It's a new dawn
Copyright © Tobechi Njoku | Year Posted 2021
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Tobechi Njoku Poem
"Ratatatatatata"...
that harbinger of sorrow
women and children wailing and crying
men scampering and dying
on the farm plains lies dead bodies
bodies of innocent citizens
graffiti of blood trail everywhere
Flies feasting and buzzing
Police siren wailing and buzzing
Oh! They are late!
The gun wielders are gone
Into the thick bush they disappear
Promises broken and hopes dashed
Families broken and dreams crashed
Then they make speeches and excuses
Lives are lost
Human life, not cattle
Precious lives not meat
Hmm, Orphans are made!
We all blamed IPOB
with voice they fought
Like ants they marched
With sticks they pushed
But with tanks they were crushed
Alas, the gun wielders are criminals
The men of voice are terrorists
Yet in one country we live
What a fractured line!
What a world.
Copyright © Tobechi Njoku | Year Posted 2021
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Tobechi Njoku Poem
In the subconscious lies a litany of thoughts
Very many of them deep thoughts
The inevitability of the human mind it is
Thoughts masked by human facade
Or mirrored so the blind can see
Like smoke they may fade away
Like glue they may stick and stay
Action and reaction, choices cast
The effect embrace we must
A starry sky buried in the mind
Puerile, pious, profane, we find
But choices we must make
Hate, love, good, or bad, choices we must make
Sanity and serenity it can breed
Insanity and anxiety may abound
Boats rocked, or storm quelled
From the belly of choices they are birthed
Choices breaks barriers like torpedo
Buried in the mind ever green like avocado
Can make Homo sapiens lose libido
Get it right and behold El dorado
Developed cracks deep as crater
I see the sun shining down like water
Unbeknownst to me I was under the influence
Never shall I remain in silence
Make a choice and live with the consequence
Copyright © Tobechi Njoku | Year Posted 2021
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Tobechi Njoku Poem
Broken People
How ruffled a people we are, crinkled and cracked under the weight of economic hardship. Yet we attempt to grin and greet.
From their killer smoking barrels, innocent lives are snuffed away.
In the dark of the night, they abduct, rob, and brutalise. Did you say law enforcement? Tufiakwa! Like Nazgûl, they are agents of death.
SARS, FSARS, SWAT, no matter the rebaptism, this brutality must end. Justice must be done. Someone must be held accountable.
Copyright © Tobechi Njoku | Year Posted 2021
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