CYCLE OF VIOLENCE by Osowe Gbenga

I was thinking about Domestic Violence and how it continues in a cycle (men who grew up to see their fathers beat their mothers are less likely to see anything wrong in beating women etc) and the thoughts brought this poem titled CYCLE.

CYCLE OF VIOLENCE

I have chosen to speak

to lend the world my words 

and let my voice be heard

loud and clear

Against the violence of silence

perpetrated against the ones we ought to hold so dear

causing them so much bodily and mental harm.

I sound the alarm, 

that the cycles might be strengthened no longer

that our females may suffer no more

and that our wives and daughters may weep no more.

I choose to speak,

at the plight of children who witness their mothers being beaten and battered,

watching as her cloth is shred into tatters.

As she  is stripped of her dignity and humanity

By the same man who once claimed to love her,

swearing an oath to honour and protect her.

But,

Now, his fist is her face's unworthy yet willing companion daily.

She sheds tears, 

losing blood

not for man's ransom nor eucharistic communion.

She shed her blood, 

her life,

dying in bits,

cowering and pleading, 

while he beats her.

and she stays silent.

A victim,

and a  perpetrator of the violence of silence

She stays,

keeping mute and enduring

for the sake of her 

Son,

who now believes that  the answer 

to every female's daring questions and smart retort is a punch

and a kick.

Daily, his fragile human mind is being transformed

to that of a savage,

who thinks that the body of a woman is meant to be ravaged.

A victim of the vicious cycle

So for him I speak, 

and for the sake of his younger sister,

in whose mind is etched the imagery of her father's savagery.

She hates men with a passion,

her life a lesson in delusions.

The words of her mother fill her ears,

"Men are bad,

they are the spawns of the devil

and in them is the seed of evil."

She knows not, 

that not all men are brutes. 

Even if to many you dare not ascribe the word cute.

She is a victim,

caught in the cycle strengthened by our silence.

And so for her I speak

against RAPE, domestic abuse and sexual harassment.

And I say

break this cycle

and STOP THE VIOLENCE NOW!

by 

Osowe Gbenga

LETTER TO MY BELOVED by Pauldesimple

Dear beloved
I'm sorry to inform you that I had resolved
And arrived at the conclusion
To stop our distant communication
And put an end to our beautiful relationship
And glowing friendship

For I'm becoming insane

And can no longer bear the pain

Of traveling to your place

Before I see your face

Furthermore I'm tired of writing

And endlessly waiting

For days

Before hearing from you always

For whenever I pick my handset

To call your gadget

It's either switched off

Since power in you area is always off

Or out of service

The usual from our telecommunication companies

So I decide to do this

That we might have peace

Finally I'm coming to see your mother

And ask your father

For your hand in marriage

Because our love has come of age

And I can't give away

Whatever the pay

Thereby saying goodbye to a relationship

And welcoming companionship

But before I end this letter

I have a question that needs an urgent answer 

Baby

Will you marry me?

Your truly

And faithfully

by Pauldesimple

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

Imagine you were MARY....lol!!!

Sometimes I think of what Mary went through being the mother of Christ. I realize that I could never quite grasp it.

Just imagine Mary walking to pick her 8 year old son from the safe place in the forest she left him to go gather woods for fire then she hears a loud terrifying roar. As a mother she instinctively moves towards where her son ought to be and discovers he isn't there. Frantic she starts to look for him. Then she hears a giggle followed by a roar, "o my God! That thing is near my son!!"  She starts to run towards the sounds regardless of the danger she is putting herself in. 

Oh, did I mention she is pregnant! Yes, she is 5 &1/2 months! So what you are imagining is a pregnant mother running to snatch her son out of harm's way while trying to be careful so as not to endanger the life within. Awkward running style I guess.

Then as she moves closer to the area she believes the sounds are coming from she hears, "o stop jor! I'm tired of playing"

Her mind races, "Mo da ran! No be my son voice be that? Playing with who? Can't they hear the fearsome sound of that animal? Omo yi o ni pa mi!" 

Then she comes to the clearing and comes to a total stop with shock on her face. She sees her son playing with not 1 but 2 tigers. Not just playing, he is scolding them for not letting him rest. His hands is right in the face of 1 while the other has it's head under Christ's 2nd hand as though begging for a pat. 

"Jesus!! Come here now! Leave them alone. No don't run, walk." 

The tigers start to growl at Mary. Then Christ says, "will u stop that this instance. That is my mother." 

The animals are contrite and move back.

Then Mary turns to Christ and says "I know you created them but please remember I am your mother and I'm human. I love you and would try to keep u safe even though I know in our case u are the 1 protecting me. But Jesus I take your name beg you no use worry and fear kill me. How many times will I tell you, you can play with other animals but not WILD ANIMALS!!! Jor ma pa mi! Ha!" 

Just imagine if you were Mary, would you tell Joseph?
What will you even say? I met our son playing with Tigers.





by Dupe Holloway