IFRC photo
By
Ngozi Olivia Osuoha
Spare Africa
They sell us for gold
So we are on hold,
They exchange us for oil
So we are the soil,
They traffic us for sex
We are the climax,
Spare us, Oh cyclone.
We are the laboratory
Our organs are rare,
It is mandatory
Because we are bare,
They buy us for labour
Because we are strong,
Please spare Africa, hurricane.
Our skulls are in museums
And our skeletons in galleries
Our heritage is pain
And their inheritance, gain
Spare Africa, oh disaster.
Leaders, lead themselves
Followers, follow one another,
Politicians, pound
Religionists, reprimand
Academicians, abolish
The society is in disarray,
Please you have to spare Africa.
Hunger thrives, thirst survives
Starvation learns, humiliation yearns
Exploitation sustains, violation maintains
Lack, want, need, poverty, all boom
Hope fasts, faith waits
Cyclone, cyclone, if you have sense,
You would spare Africa.
Choices are lean, options are same
Alternatives linger, compromise is deadly
Songs come from wrong gong
Cries, from angelic voices
Rhythms, harp against future
Melodies lambastes harmonies
Cyclone, you don’t have to torture Africa.
Well of blood, blood in wells
Oil boiling, boiling oil
Minerals for funerals
Funerals for minerals
Sacrifices against talents,
Rituals fighting gifts
Spare Africa, whatever cyclone.
If you have eyes
You will see the African cyclones
Cyclone birth, cyclone survival
Cyclone school, cyclone job
Cyclone living, cyclone growth
Cyclone life, cyclone death
Enough of the cyclones,
Spare Africa, spare Africa.
No interest, no eagerness
No passion, no patriotism
No selflessness, no service
No love, no nationalism
No knowledge, no oneness
No values, moral decadence
No steadfastness, no peace
War, war, and violence
Abuse, abuse, and misuse
Looting, looting and loots
Corruption, hate, bigotry
Backwardness, unemployment
Greed, chameleonism
Dirtiness, ungodliness
Africa already has enough cyclones.
If you have sense, spare Africa
If you had sense, you would spare Africa
If you have no sense, still spare Africa
Listen, cyclone, cyclone, Africa must be spared!
The Guts Must Be Crazy
There he lies, bleeding
Gasping for air, rolling
Unconscious, far from reality
But there you are, recording
The guts must be crazy.
A dream struggling to survive
Vibrating speedily
Fighting to win
But there you are, videoing
Helping fate to conquer,
A conspiracy of silence
The guts must be crazy.
Riches left scattered
Wealth home and abroad
But here lies he accidentally
Head bruised, jaw broken
Fractured legs, internal wounds
Yet, you are standing
Taking photographs, making fun
Forgetting that the rich also cry.
The other is over there naked
Stripped, to take a walk of shame
Flogged, stoned, dehumanized
You were so cool with the scene
Because things have fallen apart.
Look over there, the poor is hungry
He is begging for alms
But your camera rolls
Because you have the audacity of hope.
About the starving girl
Hawking on the streets
Your quest is her skirt
So you filmed your conquest
And for her, since then
Things were no longer at ease.
The old woman standing in the bus
Old, haggard and worn out
Pale, sick and lean
You pulled a stunt
And have it stored,
Because the dreams of our father died,
The guts must be crazy.
Doing drugs, thuggery
Ganging, hanging
Stealing, defrauding
Abusing, polluting
Yet recording, videoing, storing, sharing
Because the society is becoming,
The guts must be crazy.
You could help dying victims
But no more conscience
Emergency patients, needing care
Yes, you can save them
I mean no one but you,
The guts must be crazy.
People fight and strip themselves
People gather to strip someone,
They burn, kill and murder
Even innocent people fall victims
But you will be there
Snapping, photographing, posting
Because you want to unleash the arrow of god,
The guts must be crazy.
Dead bodies, corpses, burning humans
Ugly sights, ungodly acts
Barbaric beliefs, jungle Justice
You laud them with silence
And aid all with pictures and videos,
The guts must be crazy.
WhatsApp, Facebook, Instagram, blogs
Newspapers, all the media
Instead of socializing
We debase humanity
And commonize the sanctity of life
Because we need a long walk to freedom,
The guts must be crazy.
How we lost it, I do not know
That accident victims would be lying helplessly
While we take photos of their helplessness,
Secrets, sacred and consecrated matters make headlines
Because our values are gone and eroded our norms
No wonder, the nightfall in Soweto.
Drop the phone, close the camera
Help victims, save lives
Life is a journey
What goes around, comes around
Even half of a yellow sun.
A purple hibiscus
Can light the twelfth night,
The concubine
Can save the mistress
Stay awake at the watchtower
Because there was a country,
The guts must be crazy.
Cry, the beloved country
The gods must be crazy
Because no retreat, no surrender
So think and grow rich,
The guts must be crazy.
The guts of insane men
And the gods of weird women
All, push my pen
In this crazy world.
We are humans not animals
Accident victims are not sightseeing
Let us not make them movies,
Save, rescue, help
Anybody can be a victim.
The gods must be crazy
When we are no longer at ease.
When we are no longer at ease
The guts must be crazy.
Mobocracy
Hardened and gullible crew
Not far from the madding crowd
Suppressing the calm voice of few
Roaring, moaning and roaring aloud
Beating, destroying, crashing and crushing,
Mobocracy, a tent of lions.
Haters bringing clubs
Foes leading crossroads
Crucifiers positioning the gallows
Rivals lighting the match.
Mobocracy, a voice of chaos.
Envy punching, pinching, lynching
Gossipers in spirit of worship
Singing and praising their news
Lifting frequencies and high notes
Orchestral display of passion by busybodies,
Mobocracy, a killer of Justice.
Jungle justice, a pedal of urge
Rigmarole of rhemas unseen
Blunt excess of inhumanity
Mobocracy, mobsters and monsters.
Lies feeding dubious hearts
Rumours greeting curious souls
Scandals chasing zealous prayers
Slanders waking dreaming giants,
Tales entertaining wishful thinkers
Jungle justice, a hole on the sole.
Shameless statues, pounding
Fearless jokers, enterprising
Ungodly idealists, razing, grazing,
Untidy cycle, harsh like hurricane
Windy slopes, topless mountains
Fighting wrongly, untimely, unjustly
Mobocracy, a tool against the people.
Truth with no glimpse
Hope without glance
Faith under curse
Love dead and gone
Hate, cherished
Division planted, watered, fertilized
Jungle Justice, a people so bound in chains.
Innocence, doubty and faulty
Courage, dizzy and lazy
Trembling, tiny, helpless, gutless
Ashamed, afraid, vulnerable
Jungle justice, a yoke on the ox’s neck.
Mobocracy, hurtful and lamentable
A smoke from intolerance
A path against the poor
Jungle justice, a hungry demon.
False witnesses, many a time
False allegations, possibly
Wrong accusations, likely
Hidden intentions, ulterior motives
Dirty deals gone dirtier
Man’s inhumanity to man
Wickedness in the highest places
Bitterness raining coals
Adventurous skeletons organizing crimes
Leaving the root, route, cause, curse.
Dear Sex
Dear sex
You are a god
And a creator,
You make and mar.
Dear sex
You are a deity
And a shrine,
You bless and curse.
Dear sex
You are a calling
And a vocation,
You pay and borrow.
Dear sex
You are a pleasure
And a leisure,
You kill and save.
Dear sex
You are a necessity
And a choice,
You tempt and lure.
Dear sex
You are an alternative
You satisfy and compel,
You push and crush.
Dear sex
You are a need
And a craving,
You force and rape.
Dear sex
You are a dog
And a pig,
You bite and dirty.
Dear sex
You are a chameleon
And a dragon,
You change and burn.
Dear sex
You are a hunter
And a killer,
You shoot and waste.
Dear sex
You are a rapist
And an opportunist,
You overpower and overwhelm.
Dear sex
You are a disaster
And a mischief,
You devastate and ruin.
Dear sex
You are a joker
And a choker,
You trap and suffocate.
Dear sex
You are a beast
And a lion,
You tear and shatter.
Dear sex
You are a magnet
And a diamond,
You attract and blind.
Dear sex
You are a ruler
And a leader,
You order and mislead.
Dear sex
You are a government
And a panel,
You quash and manoeuvre.
Dear sex
You are a terror
And a horror,
You capture and detain.
Dear sex
You are a grave
And a cemetery,
You bury and cement.
Dear sex
You are a myth
And a superstition,
You influence and decide.
Dear sex
You are a coven
And a skeleton,
You meander and manipulate.
Dear sex
You are a ditch
And a witch,
You halt and hurt.
Dear sex
You are a peg
And a spell,
You castigate and rubbish.
Dear sex
You are a mountain
And a fountain,
You exhaust and tire.
Dear sex
You are a green snake
On a green grass,
Deceitful and blindfolding.
Dear sex
You are gallows
And Golgotha,
You behead and murder.
Dear sex
You are terminal
And sickening,
You possess and destroy.
Dear sex
You are a coward
And a fool,
You misbehave and malpractice.
Dear sex
You have turned ungodly
And made yourself a lord,
You have become an army
Going on rampage,
Killing, looting, and scattering homes.
Dear sex
From where did you get such power, this quest, so greatly devastating, appalling, alarming, disuniting, disorienting, dismembering and incapacitating?
Ngozi Olivia Osuoha
Ngozi Olivia Osuoha is a Nigerian graduate of Estate Management with experience in Banking and Broadcasting. She has published over one hundred poems in over ten countries. Her two longest poems of 355 and 560 verses are available on amazon, THE TRANSFORMATION TRAIN and LETTER TO MY UNBORN respectively. She is a passionate African ink.
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