Poemify Magazine

POEMIFY MAGAZINE ISSUE III: 3 POEMS BY ABIGAIL-TYDALE BASSEY

There’s a sorrow in the sound of her words Where the past lingers to torment her…

JUNE 12

Your eye was red, fiery_
Seyi Makinde chanted:
‘I wear no tough skin
like the armadillo
to be walked upon’.
Cholera from your
stale agenda.
Dictator as a saviour, on the
nation’s list.
I saw many youthful hands
re-write that same
history, waving above
roofs
to the skies. As I watched,
drenched
in sweat
surrendering like ashes,
men and women
digging to the depths. June 12,
you blew
gruesome gases through
thin air
Till, blinded in true
patriotism of our leprous
country
Sacrifices hurt me,
souls, down as cut wood in
the forests.
The president must go, when
June 12 tears flood the roads,
I must not drown. After those
requests would only be
remembered; #endsars, #endpolicebrutality, #endbadgovernance

when the sun sets.

BLACK HISTORY

There’s a sorrow in the sound of her
words
Where the past lingers to torment
her
the inhumanity and the prejudice
that is described as colonization
which Europe never feel

for it’d damage their thinking faculty
and put them in a situation as
orphaned kangaroos from
the Australian wild fire

But it’s built the strength of
the Black people
who climb on new hopes
where reality smiles again

But they’re having hard times adapting to
for they are displaced mentally;
it’s a consequence of being suppressed

But their blood never goes cold.

HOW TO PROTEST
(20.10.2020)

Comrade,
to sleep with your eyes, open
on a fateful night on Tuesday

Uche Njie

to smell the stench of death
as you wake up on a lively morning
and you can’t choose your office
over the streets _
your cars, at home
feet running among many
only to meet bullets leading you into Hades

your tears unerased, flowing on the highways
and the people following you,
can’t stop_
they fall one after the other.

Whoever thought of turning grievances into yellow pages _
How old are we? Perhaps growing means bondage;
a giant living in the mud.
Or maybe, a toddler can still jump over a scorpion.
There’s no point in leaving although it feels like_
don’t you feel this rebellion? It is right in my veins.

As I look around, this is more than I can bear
so much more than I can wait
it might mean, I’ve lost trust in where I come from.

NO WORK, NO FOOD (#justiceforhinyumoren)

1.
remembering you thought about it. everytime there was a hunger, a break. you thought it silently green, blossoming but not crops. something like an ear of corn, or vegetable. you thought it with or without a plate. in the morning or before going to bed, a food store and there wasn’t any money. finally, you didn’t eat. you just sat and thought it.

2.
the stomach waited to quarrel. it led a revolution: a question. an answer. to address it is only with impure water_ soda. one of those days after a hard laughter. your hands on your bowels, squeezed it. crying. this always taking you backwards. yet you’re pretending.

3.
now you’re not lazy what is the way forward. writing on twitter; in search of a job. arriving at an interview. the unexpected rape and murder; here, there, everywhere. always a chance and you were seeing wealth. working that out and having it lost. everything happened. after you did not work or eat.

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Poemify Magazine Issue III

POEMIFY MAGAZINE ISSUE III: A POEM BY JOSEPH OPEYEMI

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POEMIFY MAGAZINE ISSUE III: IN THE GAME OF FORGETTING BY KAYODE ADEDOYIN

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