LINES AND VERSES

Only steps away from the golden age, where mile stone others mark. Two steps from almost getting right; guns gone, khakis caged and erstwhile chiefs cram legal verses. Agbadas and baban rigas in new found freedom ‘democreate’ in theatres teeming with all manner of wannabes – old mistakes reborn, future blunders tenderly crafted and the more we scrutinize the less we recognize. “Arise O’ Compatriots,” this nation is ours, If you hear me say, “we have the powers!” But make that your private thought, or that’s all it’s worth if you discover your public saints nurse spiky talons and hidden tails. Snail the trail of rule of law and you’ll find old races end, new races begin on who robs the people the most, who deals anti graft the bloodiest nose, and who’s the latest out-grow of the penal law. And the cloud above is super silent. But let’s sing songs of freedom, and await deliverance of wisdom of new promises of old content. While more good men find pores in the vice to pierce hungry probos...

The most difficult part of letting go is not the tears that are shed, not the pains the heart may be going through, but the coming to terms with the fact that someone you hold so dear does not, or has stopped feeling the same way about you, the knowing that things will never be as you once knew them. At this point you are prone to reflections of the good times that were once shared, open to regrets of sacrifices and the much you had given up for their sake and that of the union, and then you surrender to the surge of painful contemplations. There will always be blames whether on you or on them, but the most essential point is that they have preferred someone else to you, and have left. And in spite of your good intentions, your love, your strength, you find yourself only too powerless to stop them. Sometimes the urge to hold on, which normally stems from prevailing sense of insecurity, can be so overwhelming that you begin to devise desperate measures to have them back, make costly mov...

I am the reason truth got shot, honour is sold, and the poor flee in defenceless lot. Every move at my redemption unveils a bigger monster, a mere of selfish interests, a new altar of dissent. I am that fountain of wealth, feeding my surroundings with lack, greed and strife and now i am blighted by my very lavish. This land abounds with gurus of all likes, philosophising, analysing and calling for a great arising... but each finger pointing to paths ending in their gluttonous tummies. I am fouled by the blood of the innocent, the just fighters , the gullible patriots. J.Ifeme Elo

They say the people are not patient, but is this what it’s about? They ask for more time to have things figured out, More committees to tell what it’s all about, For more money to spend on what they may find out, That they almost won corruption, and they will need another bout? But this is about re-baptizing problems if they can’t be fixed about Rebranding the surface and letting the inside rot about Unscrupulous deadwoods reincarnating in puppets about Monsters talking and acting like messiahs about Anti-fraud so effective only big catches slip past about A nation sacrificed on the alter of self, and about Always taking routes that lead to a roundabout