I Don't Want to Write a Poem.

I don't want to write a poem

Since poems aren't meant for MEN.

Men drink their pain away in whiskey every night

And smoke their sadness pretending to be all right.

You ask what brings this pain and sadness.

What instance was it? What madness?

Well just guess and I bet with the first try you'll find it.

Yes, of course! What else. My woman, not anymore, was it.

And I am trying to avoid all my friends

But stuck I am with all their clichés.

You'll forget her. She doesn't deserve you or even worst

Don't worry. It's ok. She will regret it and it's her loss.

That's why the whiskey I love.

Lost I am in this dark bar.

To the always nice songs from the 80s listening.

They don't really help. Who am I kidding?

My chest, my lungs is squeezing.

It hurts so much, even the breathing.

And at the end I know that I myself became the cliché.

My feelings for her so stupidly in this trap led.

I didn't want to write a poem

Since poems aren't meant for MEN

And this unbearable pain in a poem I ended up writing

Until I wake up one day and go back on leaving.

by

Geopapas

Source:

http://voices.yahoo.com/i-dont-want-write-poem-3944218.html?cat=42

#WarOfWords - They were all lies by Titilayo Mabogunje

This babe dey flow o,
and no be small yarn she yarn.
Guess what,
she is just sixteen,
but flows way past her age.
Deep words from a young mind,
words that can give sight to the blind.
She is definitely one for the future.



War Of Words - They were all lies by Titilayo Mabogunje 

Let me tell you a story
Of a girl I once knew
About fifty or sixty years ago,
She was just born and literally brand new.

So men came to take advantage of her
They said "Lean on me,"
They said "Trust me, believe me,
" 'Cause you can be free with me."

Now, indirectly what happened was,
They found another way to say
"Hmm, this girl is beautiful,
"Why don't you give all your money to me?"

Naïve she was, she believed them.
She unfortunately lost control.
And one by one they left her.
And bit by bit she lost what made her renown.

Now if she only opened her eyes
She would realize
She was no bride,
That there was no prize,
'Cause they were all lies,
She had been taken for a ride
So tears filled her eyes
Every day and every night
Like a thorn in her side,
Everything that had been right,
She threw away to the night
But now, she tries to fight.

Now she is thinking "How can I right my wrong?
How can I fill up a cup that is already gone?
How can I think of a melody when there is no song?
Why did I stray from the path I started on?
She closed her eyes
If just for a while.
She thought back into the past
Of the people who were most vile.

It was her own family,
Her very own friends
The ones she held close
Are the ones that held her fate in their hands.

The ones who now mock her, tease her,
They used to treat her, pet her,
But now they are sick, tired and fed up of her.

They'll say nothing good can ever come out of her
Her own people will be the first to shame her.
But when they need oil to fuel their cars,
That's when you'll see them going to her.

However, my story isn't over.
When they eat and are full,
That's when they forget her.

They'll say "She's not my sister,
"I'm not related to her."
They'll say "Why are you asking me?
"It's not as if I know her."

What a wicked family
That throw rubbish all over her bruised body.
Look at the streets around you, they aren't clean.
That shows how wicked we can be.

So to answer the questions
Who is her family? Who are her friends?
You needn't search any further than
Who you see through your glass lens.

Because the culprits here are you and me.
It's the truth, or don't you see?
We are the ones bad mouthing Nigeria.
We are the ones who litter the area.

We are the ones who give her a bad name,
Ruin her fame, Put her to shame.
When someone asks us where we are from,
We don't even want to call her name.

You think you're helping your country
But you're really just setting her up.
When you say all these negative things about her,
How can it bring anything but bad luck?

Honesty stands and knocks at the door,
But bribery enters in.
When there is no noble man,
How won't corruption win?

When tribes keep on fighting;
Igbos against Yorubas against Hausas
We all claim to love one another
But if there were unity, why are we not together?

So if you really want a country
For your children and their children to see,
Let us come together to stop hypocrisy
Start love and charity,
Be proud of our nationality
And endeavor to practice transparency.

So next time you have a problem,
Don't say "Watin Jonathan de do?"
Let's stop looking up there
And start looking at me and at you.

We have been given this fertile land,
A land flowing with milk and honey
And it isn't for one man alone;
It's not for only you or only me
Lets not forget that whether you like it or not,
This is and always will be our country.


Watch the video here

#WarofWords - They were all lies by Titilayo Mabogunje

http://youtu.be/QFZJMV2rcXE

The mystery of the Cane..........!!!!

I have a fine bamboo cane

Mounted on my window pane

Even as a five months old babe

Kaka my daughter knows its name

Correction is essential for upbringing

Just like the young sprouting yam tendrils

Entwined on a stake in the farm of my granny

To ensure they survive and do not stray

Teach a child the way in which to go

And when he grows from it would not go

This the holy book to us made known

From Him to whom all mysteries know

The Igbo saying is always repeated

Correct the child with the right hand

Console the child with the left hand

A saying that I always hold dear to heart

by Miss Lotanna Nnoli

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