BLOOD ON THEIR TRAIL!

We have in our hands
a situation of unbelief

Our elders have gone mad!
And there is no sign of relief

Bloody markers write our names in uppercase!
Who's next, whose turn is to cry!

Blood In Borno...by D'Ola

Blood in my hands,
the enemy has struck again!
Here in the East of Borno!
Vultures thrives and have made a niche

My house has been razed!
The smell is of cushion and flesh!
My property destroy'd,
my conscience pierced!

The turgidity of my mind!
now re-engineer'd towards revenge!

HE RAPES AGAIN!................by D"ola

Call that man a warrior?
He fights the vulnerable
He pins them down with his fist as armour

He shadows their movement,
acting with preciseness,
only to attack to their bemusement

He raped me, twice but once
the first with his seeming innocence
the second with his violence and lustful pounce!

I traded with him words as a Kindred
he ignored and persisted the more,
all he wanted was my cherry-red

The agony was much!
The thoughts alone killing,
I felt my life in flesh, and yet out of touch!

Arrest that rapist!
twice he has escaped the cops
he charms them and his arrest is kept on resist

Now, I suffer in pain
He sees me and act being in fame
Oh! fire of shame please rain!

Lest you repent, may footsteps of evil draw near you
daily in reality and in dreams
Just as death catches up with you

May the lives you have shattered
call for your gut
and your name be ecstatically battered

The sun shall smite you by day
even as cold torments you by night,
this minute, this day!


D'Ola

OF ELDERS, PENISES AND VIOLENCE......by D'Ola

OF ELDERS, PENISES AND VIOLENCE

Man-made problems unveiled yet again
in the stream of our once cultured society
where integrity isn’t fed to the unruly
Praises aren’t ferried to the corrupt

WE ARE ONE NATION.......by D'Ola

What a mighty frat we have
holding the nation to its jugular
smashing on our faces the guilt of our misdeeds
of voting them into power

LOVE-LORN NATION

There’s much to lose when love is least

As loving less can't tame a beast

There’s all for gain if love is most

For love permeates ethno-religious coasts

Snapshots of Sorrowed Sights

(You may waste not your wages
Writing the story)
The vista of those gory ordeals
Is mounted on our memories
The charred chests of mothers’ sons
The battered beauty of fathers’ loves