…But yet we are skilled in the act of distraction from sorrow
If I don’t laugh, I will cry
So instead I will laugh at the foolish housemates on big brother
Rather than erecting a mirror in front of me that will make me laugh at my gullibility …
I haven’t grown up, I’ve only evolved and my poetry has done the same. I pick random things that people don’t usually talk about and gift them a spotlight in my pieces. I performed my first poem during a camp where I didn’t have my phone for a week. I was fully locked in and I wrote something special.
I’ve carried that mindset in every piece I write, I never use my phone to write. Instead I lock myself away with my laptop that only has Microsoft word paired with a thought-racing mind. Most times before I write a good poem I’m very hungry, I probably wouldn’t have eaten the whole day. Me being uncomfortable pushes my brain to lock in, not get distracted and finish the work so I can be comfortable again.
I don’t have a role model in the industry because this style is not duplicated . I’ll be the pioneer. Many people will call it comedy, or limerick, or just a bunch of puns. But it’s poetry and you will force your brain to make sense of it when it has made sense to everyone else.
NIGERIA SPITS IN MY MOUTH AND I SWALLOW
This piece is called Nigeria spits in my mouth and I swallow. Over time I’ve seen the economy of Nigeria plummet and people quickly adapt, it has been a constant downward slope. This poem elaborates on how the country constantly spits in our direction , but instead of dodging and igniting a revolution, we open our mouth and swallow the saliva.
Like a first born son that has gone astray, Nigeria sprinkles white powder of corruption into its nose and has gotten high on the notions of tribalism
The country stands tall but never sober, prices constantly high without drugs
And the youths moral low without an anchor.
But yet we are skilled in the act of distraction from sorrow
If I don't laugh, I will cry
So instead I will laugh at the foolish housemates on big brother
Rather than erecting a mirror in front of me that will make me laugh at my gullibility
gullible for accepting abnormalities we have been given a hickey and a whisper in our ear to swear is normal.
I love my government like love is a cricket bat with nails and thorns that I use to design my skin
But who said I don't like pain or bdsm
That's my kink.
Paint this picture in your head
You are driving and someone reverses into your car and hits you
Normal pattern
You come down shout small and insult their mother.
The arrogant bagger responds with 'do you know who I am"
Yes! I know you
You are my brother in suffering
We are united by the stronghold of backwardness our nation brews
But even a truck jerks backwards in order to move forward
We will jerk off not wank
Jerk and move forward as a country
as Africans
maybe not today
And definitely not tomorrow because weekend is for resting
But one day.
- Stories From Young African Poets: Love and Poetry of Boluwatife Emmanuel. - January 7, 2025
- Stories From Young African Poets: On Growth And Wana Umoh. - January 1, 2025
- Stories From Young African Poets: Career Choice And Erhimesioja. - December 4, 2024
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