MUSHIN...!!!

Mushin in my blood, it is where I was born

The lifestyle, the culture like a shirt I’ve worn

As a kid I was exposed to violence and porn

Fearless and desperate, taking the bull by the horn

Densely populated, dominated by thugs

Here, we chop knuckles we don’t give hugs.

Prostitutes half-naked, parading our streets

As a kid, I would watch lick my lips without a sweet

Few churches, few mosques, more hotels and bars

Street-fighting, bottle-breaking, boys are kept behind bars

Many streets untarred, full of retards

Children treat adults with no regards

Street-hawking, child-labour haunt the little minds

Parents want to survive so they never mind.

Gun-shots every night, we all live in fear

Police pose with armour-tanks with enough gas to tear

Every junction, every corner, boys are smoking weed

Teenage girls warming beds just to meet their need

On sanitations, we play football on the streets

No jerseys, no boots we tackle hard with our feet

2Face from  Festac, 9ice from Bariga

We are proud of our own Alabi Pasuma

Now the change has come, guys are back to school

Violence has disappeared, everywhere is cool

Teenage girls quit flirting, they keep their pride

They are getting married, guys make them their bride

Being born here is a blessing and not a curse

I’m proud of my hood, I don’t know about yours

                                                                                                                        

by Olaide aka Poetstreet (inspired from the street).

MYTH OF MY CHILDHOOD (A Spoken Word Piece by Yommy Bishop)

There is a myth that was told since I was born

The myth that gladdens my heart when I was young

The myth of where I came from, and where I belong

The myth of our fathers

Of who takes over when they are gone

The fallacy that left us shattered

The truth that doesn't matter

The colors they painted with their palette

The path they treated as a scarlet.

When I was young father once told me to be strong

That one day to the top I belong

My teacher mantra me ‘leader of tomorrow’

Perhaps they said these to wipe away my sorrow.

But seems tomorrow never come

Or maybe I’m just forever young.

Though I can haul and urge them no more

No more can I endure to bear their brunt

Its dawn but the cocks still don’t crow

Ticking of time but our infants still don’t grow

Days roll into months, months into years

Our drumming rain turns lazy dew in the ears

While our waving sun changes to sleeping moon.

Our well is running dry, metamorphosed into a stony pit

Surrounded by dancing leafs

From the leafy branches of a sheltering tree

In the still of the night, our fathers stole away our right.

Rotating and revolving in selfish pride

They raped her and left the groom with no bride.

The rulers I know are still ruling

While tomorrows leader are trapped in their childhood myth looking.

The myth of my childhood

The myth that rips me off my manhood.

The Ecstasy that bind us

The love that blind us

Lying on my mother's chest

Sucking on my father's breast.

My lips on his hard on nipples

Excitement spread in like ripples.

Federal character a wailing abracadabra

A predicament sweet as venom, 

the treasure stolen in billion

We seek freedom from the rulers of this kingdom

They using us to rise to stardom, while our lives abandoned.

Sing it in their ears that again she’s in her period of Ovulation

Sing it all through the nation, 

on TV and every radio station

As we the youth are set on edge, for an un-ending Revolution.

By 

Yommy Bishop