The soul doesn’t rest the body does
like the wrens the soul sings
music to the creator
Why then say rest in peace to a soul
when the journey became unstressful.
In joy does the freedom of the soul
occurs from the stained soil of the skin
the soul recall its body memories
using the experience to form new notes on lyre
may my body rest to free my soul from this hell
(c) Martin Ijir 2019
A group of men holding palm fronds
shouting next level as loose dogs
they form an enclave in the centre
five men holding palm fronds, chanting
old rhetoric as people gathered.
A group of men holding torn umbrellas
shouting let’s make Nigeria working again
in their torn heart they seek to change
the old scapegoating technique, their
leaders chants a new song of restructuring.
These group of men followers
thuds the streets with guns
knives, broken bottles
club’s or brass knuckles
ready to create chaos.
The rich and powerful are ready
to ride out of the storm
as the light of the sky beam
millions of goes dismay
and peasants leisure turns to dust of disarray.
Our dwindling unity is at the brink of collapse
those who benefit from violence becomes
happy to trade their resources:
millions of white collar workers
had nowhere to go.
The rich began to laugh
and wouldn’t offer a help
families would be torn apart
and hunger will strike many
and death will plead to ease their suffering.
Inflation and unemployment will become
a constant threat, foreigners will tap our
resources in the name of humanitarian aid
blood would flow if February 16 results to violence
i shall hide in my cubicle with my son
The time I share here would be lost to grief
I would freely go underground as a rat
when my beloved country turns into a fascist state
and my eyes will be betrayed by tears
as feeling of bitterness live inside me.
I shall hate democracy
for it has failed me
and the quiet street will be armed
by angry men, killing will be an orderly song
because greed, and power intoxicates…
(c) Martin Ijir 2019
There’s someone that occupies your heart
Like the air in the sky she journey through you
She creates a new smile and erased your sorrows
Like ocean you heard her tides when she’s absent
There’s someone so special you feel her love
When the days became dark she brings a light
Like the moon she shines inside you in amorous posture
Like a pasture she feeds your troubling soul with love
She becomes like an oasis in your desert journey
She enchant your heart to call her name for she’s your breathe
(c) 2019 Martin Ijir
Yesterday, souls where injured.
Many mute beings cried.
The injured ones where spit upon
Their bones where grind with boots.
How will democracy ever gets a feet?
Their body language is disgusting.
A mimicry of masses not to weep
Rather they preferred their tears withhold.
As powers collide on umbrella and fronds
My innocent eyes turn-off its chains
To decide where freedom and liberty lies.
How will democracy sailed on the earth?
When camouflaged leaders, maraudes our land.
A big fattened lamb cries for his shepherd
I am a lost thin lamb trying to survive
this bloody forest, where devourers feed
on the masses.
(c) Martin Ijir 2018
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