Tuesday, 15 March 2016
Tuesday, 13 January 2015
A single matchstick of uncontrolled anger can burn to ashes a long built tower of peace. We kill the world!
We kill the world not with knives, guns and explosives but with the burning rage in our hearts over our fellow men, we kill the world because we have chosen not to love but hate, not to share but steal, not to be kind but wicked. We kill the world because although we know, we know how much our neighbour needs a little drink, we know too well he can Ill afford it, Dont we also know how well we have it but yet we love to forget; we kill the world not with guns, knives and explosives but with the lies in our eyes. Since humans have abandoned the Bliss of truth, the world languishes in a tumult of falsehood; we kill the world when we see oppression and refuse to speak up against it, we kill the world when we relax when issues demand our opinions, we kill the world when we conspire against each other, we kill the world when we hurt ourselves. we kill the world with the hate in our hearts- because we find love in special people but choose not to give it back, we kill the world. We kill the world because we kill ourselves, each blood violently spilled on earth is a poisoned arrow shot at the world's heart, and now, the world dies in our hands, why do we live when our world is dead?
Wednesday, 17 September 2014
A poem by Okoye Precious o.
i love my little hut, tiny as it is
made of the red- cam mud
as pretty as can be
i cherish the coziness my little room doth bring
in the cold, warm; in the heat, cold
like a serving maid, changing as i wish
i have no gold, but in my own hut i am king
my wooden plates and broken cups are treasures i
-must pride in
no mutton meat to grace my table or costly reddish wine
no wealthy guests to visit me, for where will they even sit?
in my hut i have some fish my mama gave to me
and when we sit to eat porridge, what ecstasy i feel!
in my hut we grow some love, joy and harmony
which i know i'll never have in tall white mansions
when we kneel to pray to God, i know he smiles above
for the joy in my little hut makes the angels envy
i do not wish for a pretty rug to kiss my hardened foot
my smooth red mud is good for me, the little it can do
i do not pray for a 3-winged bird to make me cool and dry
the creator of heaven knows his own and sends me precious air
contented i am in my little hut and forever i will be
but now am grown and rich and smart...
i miss my little hut!!!
Thursday, 7 August 2014
Like an unseen vapor races to the clouds
So went you, when you took a bow
Like the raindrops fade away
So did you in that box you lay
Have you gone? Or shall you return?
Shall, we together face the dawn?
Will you, maybe, turn your face?
From that glorious, whitish daze?
Is it true you no more live?
And your smile shall no more be?
Is this how you chose to leave?
Silently on New Years Eve?
How will I now not think of you?
When all I miss is all you do
How will I still smile again
When you left me in this den?
You have gone but still you live
In your words and in your deeds
The elephant dies but his tusks remain
Yours is unbreakable, daring all men
How I miss you, oh friend of life!
I hope we meet in timeless time
Where you'd n'er leave so quick
But maybe till then, the days I tick!
Wednesday, 9 July 2014
The yellow world swimmed before his eyes
A life shrinkeled to a thin film
His heart grieved at the very thought
His mind so dark,no! not a beam
His thoughts raced into the dim past
A world so cruel, a life ill spent
Many bad memories came flooding
Even Maria could not stop him
A thin little rope 'd do the magic
He'd swing on top like a feeble fig
His tongue jutting out would wave goodbye
A life in oblivion seemed much better
The cruelties of life did leave him so bitter
Shouldst I tie the rope and end it all?
Or sit at home and bite my lips
Should I swing on top and end my life?
On and on, his thoughts did race
The thin little rope did the magic
His tongue jutting out, he waved goodbye!!!
Wednesday, 2 July 2014
Mighty words they were, weakening our souls
Strong proclamations we hear, stealing our essence
The Oracle has spoken!
From the glowing west, the words flew
On the wings of "ikwikwi", the evil bird
Hear you the words from the oracle
Hear my brother, and mourn with me
"Many days shall come and go
Many years will roll like winds
But you Afri, will wallow in hunger
Steaming poverty and deepening crisis
Your things will cry with sore-filled mouths
Dirty and unclad, they shall roam the streets
Your mothers shall die before they birth
And if they birth, a little afterwards
Your fathers will wander like the cursed tribe
No farm to till, no game to hunt
Your lands shall be ever barren
Dry and crusty, bearing no fruit
Hear! Hear!! You swines, the plague of all
Your precious treasure shall be taken from you
Your pride, the Black Gold shall be no more
And then you'll bow your heads in shame
For you shall be no more than-
a fixture of disgrace
On the glowing west you must pay tributaries
Beg for food, clothes and shelter
And one day, for it will come
You! Black swines will beg for breath"
The Oracle has spoken!
Composed by okoye precious o.
Monday, 23 June 2014
By Okoye Precious Onyeka
Our birth holes are sore and red
Alas we have been raped again!
Long ago lived a fair young maiden
Virgin at heart, in mind and body
Pure and fresh like a newly birth unicorn
Her name is Africa, a tall sweet thing
Her milk sacs were pillars of rest
The milk within surging in great fury
Her lithe body shone in the Eastern sun
Her gait, her poise, no one could feign
Praised by many, envy of all
Suitors from far lands sought her hand
The Arabs first with their whitish turks
But she was coy and bid her time
Then came the Oyinbo with the reddish skin
That looked to us like a freshly cut meat
He spoke through the nose and sniffed through the mouth
A strange fellow he was, though rich like a king
The young maiden ensnared by princely charms
And costly gems from far far Europe
Eloped with him before the dawn
Little rascal said no wedding vows
And now, brother, what is this we hear?
The pretty maiden is a haggard witch
Dressed in rags, begging for alms
On the far far streets of Europe
Our birth holes are sore,
Alas! We have been raped again!