Category Archives: Poetry

Musings from a broken heart mostly:)

ABUM NWAFOR BIAFRA (A poem inspired by the book #SectorIV

Sometime last year, I got a DM from @dictrace. We had met for the for the second time at the #GrillandRead book party. I will be sharing his DM with you, with hs permission of course and I hope you enjoy it toošŸ˜ƒ 

 I just finished your book SECTOR IV and it inspired some writing, I’m a closet writer (I write for my own consumption) but I thought I should share this with you…


I believe in the land called Biafra

I believe in the people of Biafra

I believe in the spirit of Biafra

I believe in the Diplomacy of Zik

The Dexterity of China

The Ferociousness of Kaduna Nzeogwu

The Courage of Ojukwu

Nwannem Abum Nwafor Biafra
I love the Calmness of Enugu 

A town akin to that talked about by the Messiah

Indeed it is set upon a hill

And enveloped by nature

Oh! What a city to behold

I’m in love with it’s industrious people

The serenity of its environs

The language of it’s people

Oh! What a song to behold

Imana Abum Nwafor Biafra
I love Rivers State

A land laced with aquatic splendour

A land where I have found a home

This land is the reason I can dream

I love the pride of the Kalabari’s

I love no nonsense Ikwerre man

And identify with the struggle of the Ogoni’s

This land is indeed the treasure base of Nigeria

Yet its people carry on in poverty

No wonder they avenge

Nwannem Abum  Nwafor Biafra
Sadly I hear cries of death in my beloved Biafra

Sounds of war, though distant but near

These sound are carried by waves 

By the people who claim to love my beloved

I hate to think these sound would envelop my beloved in no distant time

I hate to think that destruction may abound
Have we not learnt

From Stories

Stories told, though not by moonlight

We cannot yearn for more destruction

Have we not learnt from 3 years of Destruction

Nwokem idi sure na I bu Nwafor Biafra
Remember Aleppo?

The once bubbling city brought to rubbles

You want an Aleppo in Biafra


My Enugu would not be brought to rubbles

Our garden in Port Harcourt shall not be turned to death fields

We shall resist the calls for War

We shall rather jawjaw

Jawjaw that our Biafra may remain 


Abum Nwafor Biafra…


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Posted by on January 7, 2017 in Poetry


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Daughter of No One

What do I have to do?

To get you to notice me too.

I got this Malaysian hair new.

Eyelashes and this flashy shoe.

Hoping it will make you to.

Turn me into your beau.

My name ends not.

With a hyphen but a dot.

I have an appendage glut.

No prefix to be sought.

All doors to me have been shut.

Cos I am Ms So and So not.

Just give me a chance.

To prove to you I have fans.

In the ball room I can dance.

My character I’ll enhance.

I will not bow to happenstance.

I’ll let nothing be an encumberance.

See, I can laugh like the elite.

With their intelligence I can compete.

Like the buorgeoisie I greet.

Mixed accents, a dash of conceit.

Come with me take a seat.

Table the caviar and sushi, let’s eat

What do I have to do?

To get you to notice me too.

I have to be a Buhari.

To get to marry an Indimi

I have to be a Dangote.

To attract a prince, make him stay.

I am the Daughter of No One

So destined

I am 

To perish as Mrs No One.

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Posted by on January 1, 2017 in Poetry


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Allow Me To Gloat


Allow me to gloat while I choke on these oats prepared with water and a pinch of salt, no sugar or milk, not a sprinkling of malt.

Allow me to gloat while without sail I float on this boat of an economy directionless, flowing with the tides this way and then that.

Allow me to gloat, sotto voce. What else do you want to provoke? You sold us this dud, while I groaned and moaned, you called me a toad but now do you see?

Do you see the error was yours?
Do you see you thinking was wrong?
Your projections off point? Did you think that you could teach a fish to walk?

Allow me to gloat
To laugh as long as the fuel queues
As loud as the inflationary cues.
As wild as the idea of trading in Chinese Yuan.

Allow me to gloat for that is all I can do before I have to suffer these pains along with you.


Posted by on May 5, 2016 in Poetry


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#SocialLeague: Story Five


Niyi looks at his watch the moment he takes his seat.  This was one reason he hardly agrees to meet anyone.  He keeps giving people the benefit of the doubt and they keep failing. Perhaps he should join them.  His phone flashes red and he looks at the notification, debating in his mind whether he should read it or not.  He has been receiving some hate mail since he wrote an objective analysis of the current administration.  He had known some people would be angry but he had not expected the type of anger and hate that he got from people who should know better.  He had even considered closing his account after Victor set his followers against him. He had expected much more from Victor. He had expected better.

He looks at his watch again. He wonders if coming here was a good idea. But his curiosity had got the better of him. One thing he knows for sure that Osi is a troll and not the humane type. You could tell from reading his tweets firing salvo after salvo at anyone and everyone.  It was as if each day he wakes up and asks: which group should I annoy today and then he digs right under their skin. Niyi would have been out of his mind not to accept to have lunch with him.

Niyi looks at his watch again and then succumbs to temptation and checks his mentions.  Osi had sent an open message.   “20 minutes”.  Niyi automatically looks at his time. He has another 10 minutes to wait. He goes to Osi’s TL to see what he has been up to.  Apparently, someone had been accused of rape and after playing Devil’s Advocate,  Osi had turned around to troll the living day lights out of the ‘devil’.  “Didn’t your mother tell you that every married man  should keep his jack-in-the-box?” Niyi couldn’t help laughing out loud.  Then he looks round to be sure no one is looking. But who in their right minds would have tweeted such a pun. It has to be Osi. Only Osi.

He keeps scrolling down his TL wondering what really should be the correct order. Shouldn’t older tweets be at the top?  He suddenly realises that he has absolutely no idea what Osi looks like and so he could well be seated across from him and he wouldn’t even know. That was Twitter for you.  The anonymity helped a lot.

The whole of his TL was talking about the adulterous guy which means they had moved on from him.  He heaves a sigh of relief at that.  One of these days,  he really should leave Twitter for good and face his day job. Very few people knew he was a trained doctor who decided not to practice medicine. He had become a doctor just to make his father happy. He switched to real estate because he loved the thrill of a sale and then coding because someone dared him. These days he is delving into fiction writing. His father is still trying to get him to join the family business even if at an administrative level but he wasn’t sure he wanted to get used to the smell of a hospital. His phone rings and he picks it.

“Hello!” Niyi injects all the excitement he can into his voice. The man at the other end of the line had become a good friend and had even become instrumental to his selling a few luxury properties.
“What’s happening on Twitter today?”
“No ‘hi’ back? Just what’s happening on Twitter?”
“This is important… any political issues making the news?”
“Not that I know of.  The entire TL is talking about a tweep who left his wife and shagged another.”
“That’s Timeline…the space where we read tweets off.”
He sounded worried and Niyi wanted to know what the problem is. He remembers how when he just started real estate business and wasn’t making much of a headway,  he had randomly generated some numbers for the sake of direct marketing and his was one of them. They hadn’t met physically but were always in touch. Sometimes such as now he spoke with so much authority,  Niyi could feel the power he wields.
“Is anything the matter?” Niyi finally asks.
“I’m afraid there is but I can’t talk about it now. Give me a ring if anything appears on your TL.”
“You’ll know when you see it”.
He ends the call and Niyi is left with an uneasy feeling. He knows his friend simply as John who lives in Abuja.  Last time he travelled to Abuja  he had thought they’d finally meet. They hadn’t. Something had come up that took John out of town.  He had a weird feeling then and he is having the same feeling now.

“Are you alone?”
Niyi looks up to see a dark skinned woman standing before him. She looked early thirties,  wore little make-up and had this lovely smile. She had this aura around her and her eyes looked like she always got anything she wanted.
“I’…waiting for someone.”
“You must be Niyi then,” she says as she takes her seat before him.  “My name is Maria, but you must know me as Osi.”


(Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.)

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Posted by on February 3, 2016 in Poetry


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Who am I?


Who am I?Ā 
I ask each day as I
Rise and hear the morning cry
And IĀ 
Get ready to start the day

Who am IĀ 
The question returns as IĀ 
Lay in bed hearing the muezzin cry
And IĀ 
Get set to end the day

Who am IĀ 
The question recurringĀ 
In my head
As I tread
The path many like me have trod
Trying not to be so slipshod

Who am IĀ 
The search continuesĀ 
Each day
Every day
Looking in corners and cranniesĀ 
Hoping to find in each crevice

Who am IĀ 
Maybe if I stop probbing
Perhaps if I stop prodding
And look in the mirrorĀ 
Then maybe I’ll find
The me I should be

I’m lostĀ 
In this great universal space
Trying to run my own race
Trying not to end up in disgrace
Hoping on me God will shine his grace
Believing I can seek his face

I’m lost
Sinking deeper into earth’s crust
Trying not to return to dust
Trying to be that which I mustĀ 
Hoping that the God of the just
Can see I never exchanged love for lust

And then just when I thought
I have looked everywhere I ought
A new door is opened to me
And what do I see, free?Ā 
Set free by the undeserved kindness of our Lord and the Father of our Lord,Ā  Jesus Christ.
And I ask who am I no more
CosĀ  I.Ā  Found.Ā  Me.

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Posted by on January 17, 2016 in Poetry


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My Looter is Better than your Looter

My looter is better than your looter
My looter is in Abuja
He drives big cars
And has the ears of the Messaih
He is in the party of winners
And so has no case to answer

My looter is better than your looter
What did your looter do when he was in power?
He did not recognise the yoots
And we the influencers
We chased him out
With the help of Twitterers

My looter is better than your looter
Stop with these chants of Aluta
No matter how often you gather
At Unity Fountain or crowds you garner
We can’t still be compared to each other
Cos my looter is better than your looter


Posted by on December 10, 2015 in Poetry


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Death to Opinion

It is bad enough you think these thoughts,
That you will voice them as if they were sought
After,  keep your opinion to yourself
Get rid of them take them off the shelf

But did you not say
Please thee I pray
That I can think as I choose
Use anyone as my muse

Rules are rules and must be obeyed
Your opinion is yours but must be stayed
When it runs contrary to mine
Politically correct, you must align

Please thee I pray
Who has made you, 
Arbiter of causes
Guardian of consciences

Be gone with you
Lest you be buried
By my horde of minions
Ready to pounce
on the click of a button
Speak not
Unless you speak mine thoughts.

Opinion died
Death to Opinion.

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Posted by on December 7, 2015 in Poetry


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