MY COUNTRY By Sulaiman Kabiru Isah

My country

The sod of grief and nervousness
The sod of guilty and stealing
The sod of bribery and corruption
The sod of cheating and killing
We hunger,we anger,we cry,we die

Oh Nigerians!
Our bucolic foot spoiled
Our bucolic eye closed
Our bucolic ear damaged
Our bucolic heart broke

Oh Nigerians!
How can we orbit our life portion?
Our sod leaders don’t care,
The pipe of our terrible situation
We lost luxury life generation

Oh Nigerians!
All we are the witness
We failed to have happiness
But we are in sadness
All thee and i lost happiness

Oh Nigerians!
The blood box bleeds
In our bucolic grief’s
From the Nigerians body’s
But our leaders kept eyes

Oh Nigerians!
The Bribery and corruption
Harvest in our bucolic generation
Our bucolic leaders steal the money
As a result of harvest of corruption

Oh Nigerians!
We wake-up to endure
And pray to our bucolic obstacles
To turn into zesty situations
And to be forgotten in this sod

©️ Sulaiman kabiru Isah
01/01/2021
Copyright

AT THIS STATION By Egong Eku

AT THIS STATION

Now that I stand here close to
The top of this mountain
Some good distance yet to make
I look down at the mammoth
Crowd nestling at the deep valley
As they begin their own climb

I remember my time at that
Exact position a long while ago
Looking up here at those who
Occupied my present station
This ladder meant for all mortals

I can vividly recall the thoughts
That filtered into my fevered mind
The many things I wished and
Dreamt to do at this very height

How I held those who were
Here and accomplished neither
Of those wild dreams of mine
Not deserving of their places

I look back at the journey afraid
To even think of those experiences
The very nature of the difficulties
Encountered on the turbulent way

The excitement disappointments
Betrayals and failed dreams

The web of frustrations and how
It managed to penetrate every
Content of my effort to make a leap
And scale the ever present obstacles

Those were the days of youth where
The mind remained so impressionable
That everything wore a garment of
Possibility in a never ending dream

Today I look back and all that I see
Is a city of regrets in a world
Governed by memory where
I awake to a new consciousness
Considering things in the way I
Could never do under the stupor
Of exuberance where I made my bed

These are the days of adulthood and
The color of the sun is fast changing
I look back at the things I did and
Did them quite wrongly also the
Ones I didn’t do at all which were even
Of greater importance at the time

I can not turn back the hand of the
Clock to start all over again no matter
How much I wish but to contend
With what lie within me at this station

To use the experience of my tortuous
Journey up here to create a legacy
To bear witness of my timely sojourn

©®Egong Eku
August 1st, 2021.

GREEK MISERY By Agber ElDread IBrainz Monaday

GREEK MISERY

GREEK MISERY

On the bed couched McTie,
Dead apparently he appeared
Numbers, his ribs could
Be given names A to Z
His sight could get glimpse
But only the Acheron river of tears
Streaming down his ever opened eyes
Few words his mouth could say,
Is woe in convulsion.

Gently, left him the body
Himself found tween life and death
Signing vows with
the river of unbreakable oath.
The waters of Styx
Before the god
And thus his soul moved.

On the bank of river Lethe
(FORGETFULNESS)
There stood McTie waiting
Shuddering his nerves wracked
Sorrow cloud him a crown
For the Charon’s boat,
He await to be carried over
“Over river forgetfulness”
Spoke his mind
The pain of loosing his memory
Up it well tears
In the eyes so red.
He looked behind
Throng thrust on to be blinded
From their life time actives
The memory he could call up
His mind brooded over jealously
Like Father talking to his angels
About man his image.

Behold, on the steam
So cold river
Hazily come the boat
The sailor, unrevealing creature
In black hoody cassock sailing
Ferryman.

Move in.
The horrible deep voice
Grew devil bumps on him
More even when the sailor’s
face got revealed
Fierce fiery red hot eyes
Glow up as the boney
white skeleton yawned
Yawned to bid him farewell
Of his senses.
Now and even this you may never Recall when we’re on the other side.

Oh, my mind
Held him his head up tight with his hand
I’m loosing it
The understanding is vapourizing
Upon inhaling the cold vapour on Lethe

Pyrolyzed his soul began blazing
When they had come close to
Phlegethon (river of fire),
He had nothing on his mind
But only the Cocytus,
river of lamentation
Passing by his side
Consumed by it he was
Thus only the mouth and throat
was now employed for years
Not when a mercy hand picked him
Out of Cocytus up into
Mercy river he never stopped screaming

© 2021 August 1
ElDread iBrainz

WHO OWNS THE EARTH? By Priyanka Banerjee

Who owns the Earth ?

Rocks harder than the crust of earth break the bones of the dancing tribes !
Streaks of light touches their hearts .
Their painted faces unfold the saga of those primitive lives ,
As pure as the fountain spring ,
Yet ,Dark and unexplored !
A foetus knows
how the secrets of midnights
Give birth to solemn truth ,
Shaping up the lives of the leaders , saints ,
Pregnant mistresses or
Jobless bachelors !

The Foetus prefers to die than to be a jobless bachelor ,
Decades later –
Centuries later –
Years after the bloodless Revolution
Or freedom of the nation .
Freedom was gained at the cost of
Lives of loving fathers , mothers , sisters ,
Brothers , leaders ,
Sons ,
Daughters –
Pure , virgin daughters .

Balloons and rainbows and watercolours
appear and then disappear in their Rainsoaked dreams –
They are still fighting for torn clothes ,
Silk ,
Rice ,
Tasted chocolates
Or a bottle of pure water ,
Produced at the cost of lives , lands , purity of earth and
breath !

Are birthday cakes more precious than the conquered lives ?
Fancy dress competitions deconstruct the myth that the earth lacks coal , gold and fire !

Who cares for him or her ?
Who still respects the liars ?
Who is in dire
Need of love , respect , cheap oil or care ?
What is foul and what is fair ?
Who dares
Challenge the discourses
that forcefully enter
Into the minds , psyche , souls
Of fools
Or innocent , floating fairies ,
Searching for light , cloud , vapours , mist , foggy nights
And warm , cozy beds –

Dark bodies donot always love to cherish dark thoughts
Of massacre !
Temporalities of the fluctuating movements of the dancers
Negate the untruth
Of the heartless lovers
Of distorted truth .

Tremors create a new mantra of boldest resilience –
Flags and lyres lead all to the infinite space of silence !
The woods burn slowly creating dense
Smoke –
Roasted flesh is more tasty than rice , rice and rice !
Who still sacrifices
For the rise
Of a nation ?

Bottles of Soda create a new saga of holiness and suspense –

Insanity has become the norm of new life , lived in utter hollowness .

Who owns the earth ?

The Black body
or the dark soul ?

Copyright @ Priyanka Banerjee

Shaping up the lives of the leaders , saints ,
Pregnant mistresses or

WHO OWMS THE EARTH? By Priyanka Banerjee

Who owns the Earth ?

Rocks harder than the crust of earth break the bones of the dancing tribes !
Streaks of light touches their hearts .
Their painted faces unfold the saga of those primitive lives ,
As pure as the fountain spring ,
Yet ,Dark and unexplored !
A foetus knows
how the secrets of midnights
Give birth to solemn truth ,
Shaping up the lives of the leaders , saints ,
Pregnant mistresses or
Jobless bachelors !

The Foetus prefers to die than to be a jobless bachelor ,
Decades later –
Centuries later –
Years after the bloodless Revolution
Or freedom of the nation .
Freedom was gained at the cost of
Lives of loving fathers , mothers , sisters ,
Brothers , leaders ,
Sons ,
Daughters –
Pure , virgin daughters .

Balloons and rainbows and watercolours
appear and then disappear in their Rainsoaked dreams –
They are still fighting for torn clothes ,
Silk ,
Rice ,
Tasted chocolates
Or a bottle of pure water ,
Produced at the cost of lives , lands , purity of earth and
breath !

Are birthday cakes more precious than the conquered lives ?
Fancy dress competitions deconstruct the myth that the earth lacks coal , gold and fire !

Who cares for him or her ?
Who still respects the liars ?
Who is in dire
Need of love , respect , cheap oil or care ?
What is foul and what is fair ?
Who dares
Challenge the discourses
that forcefully enter
Into the minds , psyche , souls
Of fools
Or innocent , floating fairies ,
Searching for light , cloud , vapours , mist , foggy nights
And warm , cozy beds –

Dark bodies donot always love to cherish dark thoughts
Of massacre !
Temporalities of the fluctuating movements of the dancers
Negate the untruth
Of the heartless lovers
Of distorted truth .

Tremors create a new mantra of boldest resilience –
Flags and lyres lead all to the infinite space of silence !
The woods burn slowly creating dense
Smoke –
Roasted flesh is more tasty than rice , rice and rice !
Who still sacrifices
For the rise
Of a nation ?

Bottles of Soda create a new saga of holiness and suspense –

Insanity has become the norm of new life , lived in utter hollowness .

Who owns the earth ?

The Black body
or the dark soul ?

Copyright @ Priyanka Banerjee

AUGUST By Theddy Theddy Theddy

“AUGUST”

I hear men flatter you,
Call you names and crown you with titles,

I hear them sing your praise,
And adorn you with a garland made of expectations,

But i am here for a bargain,
A trade of benefits,

My hard work for your reward,
My prayers for your answers,

My faith for your fulfilment,
My persistence for your victory,

I am here to claim everything i own in a dream that must come true,
To lure my imaginations into a fortune trap,

I am here to claim the trophies,
These things that are already mine,

For you are just a messenger,
Bearing rewards that carry my name,

I am here to take,
To receive what is mine.

“EXCERPT”

T.s_Theddy.

WHITE BONES AND BLACK WAIST – TRAUMA OR DILEMMA? By Priyanka Banerjee

White Bones and Black Waist – Trauma or Dilemma ?

The show must go on .
The dancers and the Beduins know how the secrets of Split hearts
Can negate the rhythm of the Earth !
The kisses on lips and those shadows of drops of rain
Can absorb the ruthless Cleopatra’s pain .

The setting sun spreads its hue over the Prison cells !
Even imprisonment can destroy sterility of the Soul
That needs to be Resurrected !
Bodies become alive when souls get connected !

Between life and death , Love leads the show that amuses
The eunuchs ,
Who stand as barrier
Between love and lovelessness !
passions triumph over the hollow
Structure of Power !
The sunkissed domes of the land of the mystic
aspire for more freedom
And the last shower !

Freedom of speech can smoothen the lips and the rocks of the domes !
Even the empire of Rome
Was built up at the cost of savage pain !
Rain , rain and more rain
Can soak up the warm bed of sand
Of the lost desert land !

Timelessness has been deconstructing the concept of Time –
Time is ripe for absorbing
a new amalgamation
Of passions
That will breed a new phase of life ,
Bringing the Past , the Present and the Future on one plane !
The Revolutionary can never be a sane .

The verdict negates the concept of sanity and lust !
The colonies are no more spreading the virus !
They are no more ominous !

Black skin , black hair , black eyeballs
Can create a new brown earth
Where the rebels will paint again portraits of broken guns !
The savage man embraces his white woman !
Too much of love
Can turn the white skin into a tanned
One !

The dancers sway their black waist
In a bid to find out the centre
Of the earth !
will oil come out at the cost of white bones ?

Bones are always white –
No matter what .

Copyright @ Priyanka Banerjee

FLASHBACK By John Ettah

FLASHBACK

I’ve taken a trip to the onset,
where His love pleaded guilty
for the actions of my nature.
I’ve sat on the wheels of recall
and I have driven to the spot
where He sacrificed His will
on the alter of my rescue.

His freedom went to the jail
That my soul should have gone.
On that mud of 2000 years ago,
I saw His will, it took on dumbness
and amplified the voice of God’s wish.
His pride stayed completely deaf
to the pleas in carnality’s luring voice.

As I flashed back through the pages
of the proposal of my creation,
there, I foreshadowed the glory
that lay behind the thoughts and plans
of the superatural and wonderful Potter.
Then I wondered why simple obedience
Should have become so hard a task.

And now, even in this now,
His words constantly build the core
where the walls of my faith gain anchor.
Even if I sometimes can’t see or feel Him,
The conviction of His reality
comes from the blinking of the days’ eyes.

©Jonny’swrites | August 2021

The River By Dr. Agoso Huladeino Bamaiyi

The River.

By

Agoso Huladeino Bamaiyi.

…………………………………….

Welcome to the month of August, the beginning of the flood season.

……………………………………..

As the flood season begins, let us take some time and consider this blessed river that has turned monster due to human activity; the River Benue.

……………………………………..

The river gave life to the people and prospered the communities that settled on its banks throughout its entire length in Cameroon and Nigeria. For hundreds of years, these communities drank its water and fed on its rich flora and fauna, farming its fertile plains, and growing into towns and cities: Jimeta-Yola, Numan, Ibbi, Makurdi, etc.

Kings drew from its rich resources and built kingdoms and dynasties with long, rich histories and enduring cultures and traditions. Poets and songwriters of yore told about and sang of its glorious beauty and resourceful generosity. Women washed household utensils, drew water from its banks and danced to music set to the rhythm of its unrelenting waves. Children swam its branches, buoyed by an expectant hope for a bright tomorrow where all things are possible.

Crocodiles, hippos, manatees and other water animals bred in its backwaters as various species of fish swam its depths down to the delta, spawned and swam back to its source in the Republic of Cameroon, to repeat the natural cycle a year later. It was home to some of Africa’s iconic aquatic animals.

The wind whistled across its banks, as various waterbirds – black crakes, jacanas, dippers, kingfishers, ducks, screamers, geese, storks, swans, pelicans, flamingos, cranes, coots, irises, egrets, magpie geese, etc, – and other types of birds, drawn to its accommodating embrace by the expansive grass planes fed by its waters, exhaled beautiful choruses of contentment and robust liveliness. It was a story of nature at its best: an interdependence, fuelled by the river, that benefited everyone.

Adventurers, company men, merchantmen, colonizers and missionaries followed its meandering and expansive gracefulness, establishing posts and stations, all the way from its confluence with the Niger in Lokoja, Nigeria, up to Garuoa, in Cameroon. It opened up the deep interior to Western civilization, education, Western medicine and health system, colonial administration and eventual self governance, etc., and thus hastening development and putting to an end intertribal wars, slave trade and various forms of barbarism.

I know, that came with its own problems. But, generally speaking, it heralded an era of better things, brought on the waves of the river. The march towards the realization of potential and greatness of Nigeria began. The river contributed to this with a ceaseless flow of life and resources and by serving as a reliable means of transportation for goods and services and an enabler of communication.

…………………………………….

Growing up in Numan, the HQ of the Southern Senatorial zone of present-day Adamawa State, which also hosts the confluence of rivers Gongola and Benue, I saw the river in its majestic glory: wide, deep, full of aquatic life, with its banks lined with soft sand mixed with shiny gold dust, supporting year-round navigation. My childhood friends and I used to play on these soft sands and wondered how much of the gold dust we needed to collect to have a kilogram of gold.

I personally rode on the ferry linking the lands on its northern and eastern banks. I also saw the bridge grow to displace the ferry, sending it downstream to Ibbi, and I saw the giant power lines crawl across the land, from somewhere on the banks of Nigeria’s premier river, River Niger, deep in the heart of the country, sending electricity over the river’s bank to service the provinces of Adamawa and Sardauna. All these were big events that held hope for a better future for the river and it’s people. But it was not to be. The onece-glorious river is now a shadow of its glorious self. It is at the final stages of dying.

Why?

………………………………………

The Peoples Republic of China came along and offered the Republic of Cameroon “help” to build a large dam across the Benue, “for free”.

“You can use it to boost your economy and drive your national development through ecotourism, hydroelectricity generation, irrigation farming, etc”, they assured our neighbours.

In reality, China wanted to use Cameroon to experiment, and thus acquire experience and expertise in dam construction, to solve river problems back home in China: the Lagdo Dam was an experiment to acquire experience and practical expertise to build the Three Gorges Dam on the Yangtze River in Yiling District, Hubei Province, China. Construction of the dam started in 1994 and was successfully completed and opened in 2003. Built for flood control, navigation and power generation, it is one of the biggest hydroelectricity generating plants in the World.

Is it not rather ironic that the expertise acquired by China on African soil to successfully build dams and control floods in China has resulted in floods here in Africa?

Well, it figures: the developed World always uses Africa as a Guinea pig! Most of those so-called “development aids” are actually crafted to benefit the giver more than the receiver. There is hardly anything “developmental” about them. The truth is that, in such one-sided relationships, nothing goes for nothing!

Cameroon swallowed the offer, hook, line and sinker. Lagdo Dam was built. Downstream, the Benue began to die.

Hmmm.

Now, Nigeria share riparian rights to the river with Cameroon. Nigeria was contacted. Experts are divided whether this “contact” was properly done or not. That not withstanding, an Environmental Impact Assessment Study recommended that Nigeria builds a buffer dam at Dasin Hausa, among other recommended remedial measures. This dam would receive excess waters from Lagdo Dam and then re-release the same, at the natural volume and strength of the river, back into the Benue trough. This way, everything would continue normally all along the length of the river without any major side effects or disruptions caused by the building of the Lagdo Dam.

That was way back in 1982. Till date the Dasin Hausa Dam has not been built, nor any of the remedial measures recommended by the EIS, carried out. We hear that it has been contracted out again, over 30 years after. With the non release of mobilization fees to the company, I am afraid it is yet another dud contract.

Besides, even if the contract is executed, and the Dasin Hausa Dam is successfully built this time around, I am afraid, this is coming rather too late. Reason: River Benue, through the process of siltation over time, has filled up with sand. Building Dasin Hausa Dam, without dredging the whole length of the Benue, may actually make things worse for communities down stream.

Now, we don’t want things to get worse; do we? So, #DredgeRiverBenue.

Take away the suffering and pain.
Bring back the glory of the river.
Bring back the flora and fauna.
Bring back the prosperity of the communities.

Nigeria MUST ACT NOW, or else our people will continue to suffer because, without dredging the Benue and building the Dasin Hausa Dam, things will only get worse. Next time the floods may make the 2012 deluge look like a child’s play!

Is anyone listening at all?

#Agosotó
#DrArnobb
#DredgeRiverBenue
#NigeriaGoBetter
#TakeAwayTheSuffering
#BringBackTheProsperity

(Photo: the Numan Bridge over the River Benue, from the lens of my phone camera. I took the picture in the summer of 2016, standing on the eastern bank of the river, near the old ferry landing.)

LET NOT OUR JOY JOURNEY ALONE…By Marilyn Donita Miller

Let not our Joy Journey Alone…

We are incomplete if we stand alone.Be happy all on your own.Rejoice and give thanks
If you find someone who compliments you.

No One is perfect; we all make mistakes.But isn’t it nice to share a piece of you with a sweet Soul who has your back and is a friend who tells it like it is ?There is no greater gift than that of a friend who always is honest even if it hurts:You have to care to tell them the truth….or it really isn’t a friendship at all….it’s just queued.

Who looks after you when you are all alone?Let some one in who really does care…Life is too short to waste always walking alone.So you’ve been hurt: that’s just part of Life’s Journey…So just begin……Time to start ‘your story”…Life doesn’t go on forever….Quit waiting to be happy when you are finally on the other side…..Grab Life now before you’re let go….

07312021
©®™
Marilyn Donita Miller

MAGICAL ADVENTURE By James F Cunningham

Magical Adventure~
Alice became like the Hatter,
Over time it began to show.
Normality did not matter,
Like in Wonderland long ago.
~
Alice had a lovely daughter,
They had tea parties every day.
She made it using spring water,
It tasted better made that way.
~
They both lived a fantasy life,
There was magic no one could see.
Alice was the Mad Hatter’s wife,
The Cheshire Cat lived in her tree.
~
The White Queen would come to visit,
The Queen of Hearts was always loud.
Alice never asked once, “who is it?”
But the White Rabbit always bowed.
~
The caterpillar was smoking,
He never came into the house.
The thick smoke had Alice choking,
Her coughing woke up the dormouse.
~
Life is a magical adventure,
Living life in a Fairytale.
That no one could ever censure,
It is such a wonderful tale.
~
James F. Cunningham © 07.30.2021