Seized tears

These blizzards wreak the songs of togetherness
through the night all sounds are unheard
but the songs of the razing fire thatch I felt
the noise of the striking axes passing through deathless
spirits, bumping flies that missed their path
I can hear the songs of agony,
render by their sleeping spirit
beclouding the lids of my eyes, my hands
shivers as a stroke of canvass spited on my heart,
an unbearable cloud passing its enchanting chasm
so much pain, seized tears paints the picture of my frame.
(c) 2020 Martin Ijir

February 16: No to Violence

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