No more tears by Daniel Ikekhuah.

No more tears

I feel shame when I look into the mirror;

I feel bitter to see what I’ve become.

I can’t tell my friends or family; who would believe me?

I can’t tell the police, they will only mock me.

I am that girl who people describe as little;

But you really don’t have a clue what I’ve been through.

The ones who are supposed to protect me;

End up taking advantage of me.

At sixteen I was called a pretty teen;

But daily I deal with low self-esteem.

Used and abused by the ones I look up to;

I being pushed, and might take my life if it comes to.

Marriage was supposed to be my sweet haven;

Nothing else to compare except God’s Holy Heaven.

But in the arms of the one I truly  loved;

I suffer the pain of his fist as thick as gloves.

And when he is not hitting me;

He speaks uncaring cold hearted words, stinging me.

For better fore worse was the vow I took;

But better remains oblivious,

As this journey keeps growing worse.

I am that woman next door;

We even go to the same market, in the same bus;

I am that girl in your classroom;

Who you think is being pompous in your point of view;

I am the little girl in the playground;

All by myself, ensuring no boy is around.

I yearn to tell my story

That justice would take the glory

But will you accept back in society

And not point your fingers back at me….

I beckon on you;

Come to my rescue.

Help tell my story;

That justice would take the glory.

Else I'll cry; till I have no more tears in my eyes.

by Daniel Ikekhuah

Word Up Volume 6 is scheduled for November 23, 2013 at Terra Kulture, V/Island, Lagos, with the theme, "Stop the violence." The event theme is centered around the United Nation’s “International day for the elimination of violence against women.” 

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).

Justice Has Been Kidnapped in my Country (Spoken Word Poetry) by Efe Paul

Justice has been kidnapped in my country and nobody’s willing to pay her ransom

She was absent at the tribunal when the verdict was given,

So the marauders were declared winners, 

even though we know the votes were phantom.

Chaos convulses the land, 

we’re on the verge of catastrophe, 

the tranquility’s been shattered,

We can’t even piece together the peace,

Justice has been kidnapped somebody please call the police!

But my friends mock my naiveté

Poets that they are, 

they blaspheme,

Claiming the patriotic men in uniform are part of the conspiracy.

Justice has been kidnapped in my country and nobody’s willing to pay her ransom

When was she last seen? Errrr, I can’t remember.

She was missing in the years of IBB when Dele Giwa was blown to pieces,

She was absent when Abacha reigned and Justice Auta hit the gavel, Saro Wiwa was hung,

To hell with the critics.

Justice has been missing in my country for so long,

The 4th republic gave us a made-up version of her

But she was promiscuous and so wrong,

Worst of all she could see.

Distinguishing between foes and friends of the government ,

Working through the hands of the EFCC.

Which reminds me,

Nuhu Ribadu was acclaimed her champion, that dispensation’s faithful man.

Until wiki leaked, and we heard him sing like a canary,

Humming a different tune before the Americans.

In fact, Justice has missing since the 1st republic when Awo was thrown in prison for treason,

Since the soil in Oloibiri bled oil,

And the windfall from the boom accentuated our division.

Believe now

Justice has been lost since Nigeria was found.

A friend said he saw her at Mile 12, lately

When a pick pocket was mobbed and set ablaze, maybe

That was Justice, but I’m still not sure,

Cos I see sticky fingered politicians and officials roaming free, even on TV,

sitting in the assembly were they make laws.

Justice come home we miss you,

Justice come back we need you,

Justice we weep for everyday,

Even the Church can’t remember what you look like

Though for you they fast and pray.

Activists and youths

Tweet, blog, even march on the streets in protest for you,

But I don’t trust them, cos while their leaders get famous

I still don’t see Justice free amongst us.

I wrote a poem for you Justice,

But I fear that’s the best I’m willing to do. I guess I’m just as guilty.

Just as complicit as the politicians and Judges, the police and all of civil society,

Who speak like they love you, but won’t dare to bleed

To see you freed.

Justice has been kidnapped in my country

And for her freedom we’re not willing to pay the cost

But until she’s found

We, my people, will be lost

Justice has been kidnapped in my country

And nobody, not even you, is willing to pay her ransom

Efe Paul performing "Justice has been kidnapped in my country." 

at 

Chill and Relax - The March Invasion edition of 2012. 

Chill and Relax is an open mic Performance Poetry, Spoken Word and Soul Music event in Gbagada, Lagos. It holds every 2nd Sunday of the month.