By BUBBLY DOYAKA (Flowing Ink https://www.facebook.com/groups/362708401864267/?ref=share)
THE VOICE OF MY PEOPLE
The barking of dogs
The cry of infants
The steps; loud run
The voice of my people.
The sound of gunshots
The tension
The unending black night
The voice of my people.
The life but death me
The lost hope
The empty stares
The voice of my people.
The cry of children
The voices of women
The falling of men
The voice of my people.
They have come
They are here
Where do we run to?
The voice of my people.
The shot; within
The repudiated reality of life
The ceiling shelter
The voice of my people.
The knock, the breakage
The last shout of dad
The last cry of mum
The voice of my people.
The void room
The ablaze house
The dead hope
The voice of my people.
The full but empty land
The absence of life
The tears and sympathy of passersby
The voice of my people.
The denial of the existence
The jailing of peace
The child is the father of the house
The voice of my people.
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BACK TO FARM
Father with smiles, went he,
But return not.
Mother, eatery delivered,
And never returned.
Then the news. Herdsmen…
Oh, Ah.
Father, mothers, siblings.
Uncle’s, maize
plantation,
A people with yellow fever.
Aunt’s corn and cassava Feasted upon,
like wedding rice.
Yet!
Go back to farm; all I hear,
Go back to farm!
which farm?
Farm where our lives are taken without justice?
Farm we lack resources to maintain?
The farm we cultivate for cows to feast?
With tears, we smile
Knowing not our next expectation.
But certain
It will be good.
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MY HOME IS SICK
My stomach cry of lack,
My throat is dry as a desert,
The cloudy eyes,
The rain falls,
The dance legs.
The ambitious mind mourns its death,
The heart faint of its mislaid vision,
The soul witnesses its dream’s funeral,
Disappointed is the brain,
Never recognize; is a dilapidated investment.
My home is sick
Merit wish never rewarded.
Use of what?
My stomach still cry
Hope like Egyptians in the red sea.
Oh head!
I cry out loud!
Are your ears sleeping?
The eyes blind too?
The whole paralyze?
Do you need help to help?
My home is sick
Our home is sick
Quickly we bade farewell.
Carrying and leaving behind nothing.
History will be only a fiction.
Tomorrow leaders; denied todays fact
We need a cure
Who will?
Is beyond the doctor
Oh dear heads,
Please forget all hairstyles;
Attain to us
Cure us.
A finger is better than none.
A living dog is stronger than a dead lion.
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VOICED OF THE SURVIVALS
Remember how you run home
When faced with terror?
How do you use parents as shelter?
When the home is the only security
Needed to feel safe?
When parents are the only thing
Needed to feel protected?
When the home was indeed
Home sweet home?
Home now
Home sorrow home
Peace has been washed away by war and crises
Security invaded by terrorism
Parents forced to visit the land of no return
Home now in need of protection
Dying of hunger and thirst
Dry and empty like a desert
Though the streams still flows
The fruit trees still stand
And ever green.
Though empty, yet I remember
The sweet memories of home sweet home
As the memories live on
Home will be sweet again.
THEY ARE DOING WELL
They are doing well, aren’t they?
Lamenting over the suffering of the masses:
Yet with folded hands, with blind eyes and deaf ears.
They watch at their affliction?
They are doing well, aren’t they?
Make life become trash:
Trashed into big holes for manure.
Houses burnt to ashes?
They are doing well, aren’t they?
Running a system that…..
Recognizes leaders only.
What is a leader without followers?
They are doing well, aren’t they?
When they judge on;
All citizens have right
But some have more rights than others.
They are doing well, aren’t they?
Making citizens certified lairs
Providing employment in…..
Ministry of illegality and inhumanity.
Kidnap, fraud, social services, and terrorism
They are doing well, aren’t they?
Mirroring us as them
Been unaware of all happenings
Victims of twice beating?
Note: These poems are under protection, kindly contact the publishers (cliqjets Consulting ) @ +2349015582083 for permission to copy this work.
Interesting poems
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