EYES LOOKING UP TO YOU WATCHING

EYES LOOKING UP TO YOU WATCHING

Deep in the boiling pot of passion,
I hopped in with Your unction.
The chalice of death is no sweet lotion,
For I hold high your bastion of devotion

I am that true, tired talentless tramp
That seeks to be sucked in Your trap.
I lean on every word You utter,
Melting in You like soft butter.
Open Your door wider for my bulk.
I cannot stay in the rain and sulk.

Pigs fly when Your voice rings a bell.
I can’t resist; to You enmesh and jell.
Fortune has declared our path providential.
Rain on me, let it be ferocious and torrential.
Mold me like molten muddy clay
Burn me as your ceramic attache.

Our combined effects will be felt
Like the impact of the astroid upon Earth.
Many blows upon me were dealt,
Have made my skin thick for a rebirth.
You sure are my salvation.
You must be my redemption.

You are omnipresent;You never abandon.
There’s oil in Your Horn.
In You I’m well born.
Let, no matter how late, Your will be done.

©️ William Warigon ™
📸 Google

NANCESPEARE: Nothing Small About Small By Nancy Ndeke

There is nothing SMALL about SMALL,
IF, as a word, mothers all possibilities and suppositions
Discounting with argued homilies and passionate heat.
As a night engaged with a visiting insomnia
Let’s the IF of man should he have had a say at creation,
Would he have vowed for the rib of my rib
Or would have settled for a deaf slave of a Samantha fame,
Would he have vowed for the flesh of my flesh
Or would have molded his own according to commercial measurements?
As for the apple of his eyes, would she have settled for a different variant of the same virus?
Suppositions. Possibilities. Insomnia and a mind playing truant with WHAT IF
Wonderful IF PERHAPS imagination was the real against the fantasy construed as empirical?
Words are the wind that sings the mystery of the universe.
Sail them with measured respect.
They live past the speaker.
@ Nancy Ndeke
December 2021

FEEGLE THE FAMOUS By Ian Wilcox

FEEGLE THE FAMOUS

Feegle the famous

Feegle thinks he’s Human
He even lost his Tail!
Purchasing some clothing
He noticed in a Sale

Feegle thinks he’s Human
With them spent much time
Slowly he became one
As one he did shine

He was quite a celebrity
All they did adore
Media wanted shots of him
Then they wanted more!

No personal space had Feegle
Privacy a forgotten word
What started as an achievement
Soon turned to absurd!

Everything was Feegle!
Wherever he did look
From plates, mugs and Posters
They even wanted a self penned Book!

Received some certain ‘benefits’
Access to certain places
No cost to famous Feegle
Just be seen with certain ‘faces’

Celebrity became misery
The more did gain a pain
Not the thing that others see
Could easy drive insane

Feegle started to hate this life
Not what it did seem
Luckily for Feegle
It was just a bad dream

©️Ian Wilcox
All drawings by my incredibly talented Daughter Mj

A FEEGLE STATEMENT By Ian Wilcox

A Feegle statement

Look at the hopeless Dreamer
The things others don’t quite see
Look at the one that looks different
Look at one called me
Look at what you are thinking
Is it really you?
Look at your way of being
Ask yourself if true

Times have changed that is true
Ask yourself if includes you
Not just colour but the being
The living, breathing you are seeing

Look at the hopeless Dreamer
The things others don’t quite see
Look at the one that looks different
Look at one called me
Look at what you are thinking
Is it really you?
Look at your way of being
Ask yourself if true

Look at what’s around you
Outside your personal shell
Ask self if they’re enjoying
Being a victim of your Hell?

Look at the hopeless Dreamer
The things others don’t quite see
Look at the one that looks different
Look at one called me
Look at what you are thinking
Is it really you?
Look at your way of being
Ask yourself if true

View yourself in the recipient
Of insults that you make
If were the recipient
How much could you take?

©️Ian Wilcox

OSIBABA AND YOU:Garkuwan Yamma Nupe

While attending the turbaning ceremony at the richly cultural and profoundly historic Bida Emirate today, I reiterated our country’s need of more men and women who are bridge builders and unifiers than achievers, the ones who see our ethnic diversity as a source of strength, and not as a point of difference.

It was a fitting event to make this point as I joined sons and daughters of Nupe to congratulate those who were honoured today, a wise choice by the Etsu Nupe, Alhaji Dr. Yahaya Abubakar, CFR, to celebrate and reward excellence and selfless service in the honourees, all of whom have brought competence, commitment and especially character to the positions of responsibility entrusted to them.

I thank the Etsu Nupe and Chairman, for my special conferment as the “Garkuwan Yamma Nupe”, meaning “the Defender of Nupe Kingdom.”

ISIBABA AND YOU

Considering our nation’s sheer size, extensive terrain and the global dimensions to insecurity, there is no doubt that in marshaling our security and policing efforts, we must be smarter and more imaginative.

To this end, leveraging technology in the deployment of intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance tools to compensate for the human resource deficits within our security establishment has become increasingly imperative.

While I congratulate today’s graduands of the EXECUTIVE INTELLIGENCE MANAGEMENT COURSE (EIMC) 14, we must together commend the great foresight of the founding fathers of the National Institute For Security Studies, in recognizing the need for a place of learning and research of this calibre to equip members of the security and intelligence community for our evolving needs.

THE RECIPE

THE RECIPE

A longer line of time ago,
The older ancestors gave a recipe
And bid us never to let go.
We hid it under armpit of Calliope.

The time tested tanginess of the ancestral sauce remained tasty.
It became the envy of the neighborhood.
Like Coca-Cola, we kept safe the recipe from fiends of barbarity.
Yes, with our blood we guide it good

Attempts were made to pluck the eyes of the recipe
But the ancestral vows are alight and new daily.
Threats poured in, the removal of philanthropy.
Like the stance of mangroves, we can’t be moved any.

With a sigh we will win till we breathe our last.
To our kids the line of legacy shall stay tight;
To keep alight the fire of the boom good d fast.
Other fights we lost, we won’t lose this fight.

©️ William Warigon

THE RECIPE

THE RECIPE

A longer line of time ago,
The older ancestors gave a recipe
And bid us never to let go.
We hid it under armpit of Calliope.

The time tested tanginess of the ancestral sauce remained tasty.
It became the envy of the neighborhood.
Like Coca-Cola, we kept safe the recipe from fiends of barbarity.

Attempts were made to pluck the eyes of the recipe
But the ancestral vows are alight and new daily.
Threats poured in, the removal of philanthropy.
Like the stance of mangroves, we can’t be moved any.

With a sigh we will win till we breathe our last.
To our kids the line of legacy shall stay tight;
To keep alight the fire of the boom good d fast.
Other fights we lost, we won’t lose this fight.

©️ William Warigon

LILLIPUTIAN DEBRIS By Collins Hillz

Lilliputian debris

My heart is not punctured but like a fractured bone
Seconds and milliseconds it seems like Lilliputian debris
Or like lost dunes in the shine of the moon
Beleaguered with ruins, like the lost city of Memphis

Where’s Cupid? Oh dear Cupid
Lost in the wild, like an oaks fall
Where do hearts monger, I need one truly
One to talk of and shout while besting a chest as tall

It’s just like Lilliputian debris
As though its fall was harder than Lucian’s
Hard on the ground and deep in seas
Where’s the heart with no thorn but crowns
Maybe I need me a dive, maybe faith to dive
To find this warmth, this antidote to survive

©️Collins Hillz

JUSTICE FOR SLYVESTER JUNIOR By Chichi Alintah

#justiceforslyvesterjunior

After torture
He was given a substance to silence him
Although his dead
He spoke before his death
He is still speaking after his death.
They couldn’t silence him
Let ears hear him
Let mouth speak for him
Let hands take action for him
Let Justice be done for him.
Oh! Let the whole wide world seek Justice for him
For his pain must not be in vain
He moan in pain before death
He groaned in pain as he died
Till death he experienced
excruciating pain.
He died in discomfort
He must not die like an animal.
©Chichi Alintah

SITUATION OF SATURDAY SATURATION

SITUATION OF SATURDAY SATURATION

The Harmattan mists like the song
Heralds the dying days of the year.
The vistas open for weak and strong.
Something good smokes out fear.

Cobwebbed minds clamour the brightness
Of the languid Saturday
Where novel lovers linger on the happiness
Of a blissful holiday.

Attired in my perspectives and deep thoughts,
Tendrils of situated hope fall like snowflakes.
Pieces of yesterday are buried afterthoughts.
It’s time to smell aroma of what future bakes.

©️William Warigon™️
📸Self portraits