Introducing the coal ambassadors (4)

Jennifer Dafwat - Poet/ TV presenter.

 "Though I give my body to be burned, or speak the greatest words, become the greatest writer, or the lowliest of men and have no love or my writings touch no soul then I am nothing"

I am Jennifer; Playful, fun loving, straight forward, thoughtful and industrious.
Literature is first a reflection of the writer-thoughts and beliefs, then her society. Literature is my tool to say what i feel needs to be said.

Kristen Haruna - Poet.

"Poetry is the elixir  to life. The question to All And the answer to all"

I am Kristen, best described as confident, elegant,eccentric and reserved.  literature is my question to all and my answer to all of the issues of life.It is the elixir to life,the one true thing that's firm through changing times.

Farida Adamu - Creative Fiction.

“The stories other have told shouldn't hold you back from telling yours.”

I am Farida;controversial, witty and intelligent. Literature is light. Expressions and inventions, voices that illuminate society.

Patience Attah - Poet

I am Patience, unconventional and adventurous. Literature as an art is how I breathe life into lifeless words.

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Custodians of African Literature (COAL)

                                   Presents

OPEN MIC

                   AN EVENING OF SPOKEN WORD AND MUSIC

FEATURING

• Short Stories
• Spoken Word
• Music and More                                        

                                                Special Guest Appearance 

• JeremiahGyang
• Joleeta 

DATE- 31st Saturday 2015

VENUE - Vintage Art Gallery, Jos

TIME - 3PM Prompt 

Tickets - FREE

Introducing the COAL ambassadors (4).

Lola Onigbinde - Poet/ Essayist. 

" A real woman does not compete. She knows her job description is unique and everyone can" make a difference.

I am lola, A classic placid sanguine; social, reserved and confident. In my opinion; Literature is a well of knowledge begging to be drunk from.

Justina Shemang Obadiah - poet.

"My words without poetry are a decoy"

I am Amah; soft at heart, quiet, humble and opinionated. Literature is my tool to create awareness to the ills of society and I believe poetry understands me best.

Daisy Odey - Essayist/Poet

                " literature is creation and often whats bad for the heart is good for the art"

I am Dee; Fearless, pleasant and provocative. Literature is an extension of who I am as a person, it is God’s gift to me, and in turn it is my gift to the world. 

Andrew Patience Finye- Poet & Singer

     "Any vision not people oriented with a universal insight based on truth will not stand the test of time"

I am AP, an ambitious lady, a humanitarian who loves truth in its rarest form. Literature is the light that sparks my existence and poetry, the tool for its revelation.

    

Maiden head.

One man savored her virginity

Seven others followed

With no regard to foreplay

Or a consensual pleasurable coitus

Rape!!

Revering not the hymen

Caressing not the vulva

Having a target and a tool

With a penile erection they thrust convulsively

Rape!! Rape of hope, Rape of life, Rape of joy

The hymen-standards set of old

The vulva-lives to be affected

The target-gains, desires, greed, selfishness

The tool-their positions

The culmination of Rape!!

The streets have this characteristic

The schools have this phenomenon

The offices have it going

In the end its all

Rape!!

On the street, one able bodied man

Sycophant living as a war-lord

Admirably foolish

Intelligence, morals, wisdom at point zero

Ironically, he's in a position, with the strength to Rape!!

They decide not to let you go

You decide not to work hard

He decides to cheat through it and fake it

She decides to use her reserved power

In the schools, a showcase of, Rape!!

Salaries over due

Projects unexecuted

Unqualified professionals

What swizz this is,

Another form of official Rape!!

What other form of swiping

Nothing short of that of the mind

More pathetic is,

We let them

Then on and on the cycle goes

So, before you go ahead condemning rapists

Before you go ahead bragging about your manhood

Before your prowess and libido goes ahead of you

Before the darkness is too dark

Give a thought to her feelings

Before everything sour turns bad

Listen to her pleas

Build her her sexuality, uniqueness and brand

Let ego down;remember cunnilingus and felatio

Build something, enjoy it-before its too late

Do not Rape our minds

Do not Rape in our streets

Do not Rape our rape our resources

Do not Rape our bodies

Just don't Rape!!

This is not a lawsuit

Its an appeal to conscience, to emotions

An appeal for hard work

An appeal to live

But failure to listen...

The rhythmic dancing and swaying of her hips

May remind you of one animalistic adventure

May remind her of one beastly night

May prompt her to take action

So do not rape!!

                                                                                                     JENNIFER DAFWAT

NIGHT OF THE SPOKEN WORD: Nigeria’s number one Performance Poetry and Literary show!

Simply Poetry’ in collaboration with The Abuja Literary Society
                        presents
                        the 4th edition of

NIGHT OF THE SPOKEN WORD
  
Nigeria’s number one Performance Poetry and Literary show! 
Hosted by award-winning Performance Poet, Dike Chukwumerije 
FEATURING

Reward Enakerakpor (aka The Storyteller) – ALS Poetry Grandslam Champion (Abuja)
Paul Word – 2014 winner of the War of Words (Lagos)
Anchorman –  Runner up 2012 National Poetry Slam (Jos)
AND
Bash Amuneni, AP, Dami, Bilzee Bilnigma, Eketi Ette, Michael Ogah, Oga Obeya and many others
PLUS

Showing for the first time on the big screen, ‘So, Where Is Jos?’ – a Poetry Video by Dike Chukwumerije
DATE: FRIDAY, THE 30TH OF JAN 2015
VENUE: HALL 10, 4TH FLOOR, SILVERBIRD ENTERTAINMENT CENTRE
TIME: 7PM 
ENTRY: N1500 (REGULAR) N3000 (VIP)

Tickets are available for purchase at:


The Salamander Cafe – 5 Bujumbura Street, off Libreville Cr, off Aminu Kano Cr, Wuse Zone 2, Abuja
The Lifestyle Media Store – 4th Floor, Silverbird Entertainment Center, Central Area, Abuja
Discoveries Edutainment World – Suite 8-9, Grd Floor, Jamnab Plaza, Sapele Street, off Ladoke Akintola Boulevard, Garki 2, Abuja

One: A cry from Baga.

     If you die a soldier in combat you’d be called brave, it is a privilege to go forth a hero.  When you die for a cause you understand, you know without a doubt there are blessings in the grave, No man dies for something if he's certain there’s nothing to gain. But when you die as I did, in the middle of a conflict that is not your own, you die a figure; "One of ten", "one of hundreds", ONE!.

  Caught between the cross fire, you become another anonymous tomb stone. No medals, no mementos.  You get a place in the local dailies, as another random doctored index. Your household will mourn, the nation might  grumble, and life will go on.

     I am one of the many who have gone. I am the nameless bodies littering the streets of Baga, I am the children massacred in the school in Yobe, I lie headless on the streets of Maidugri, I am a captive in the forest of Sambisa. I am in every place blood is shed, reported and unreported. I am one.

    Those conversations you have about how the blood shed  has gone on too long, where you sound passionate but know deep within talk is all it would be, I had them too. I spoke of how "somebody had to do something" I forgot I was someone. A frown creased my brow with every new story, I was livid at the killings but secretly I was pleased neither I nor anyone I treasured was a victim, till I became one.

     I could have spoken out louder, but I didn't. We should have protested, but we didn't. They promised to protect us, but they haven’t. I understand we have to live, and as long as we are alive we think empathy for the dead is enough. Sadly, it isn't.

    I am telling you this today so you would do what I couldn't; save yourselves, save your children. To tell you there is no honor dying a victim of circumstance. You will only be a number in a well written condolence message, a shadow in the beer parlor conversations, a thought behind a broadcast message.  You will only be one. A lingering memory of terror that has fallen. Fire burns as quickly as it burns far when it is left unattended. In the embrace of insecurity we are all potential victims.
                                                                                              Daisy Odey.

WORDS OF THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER ( In the courageous memory of our fallen Nigerian heros)

Suddenly, it all seems calm...suddenly, its all quiet....the sounds from the MGs, the Tanks, my troops & even that of the enemy seem to have all disappeared...

Looking back,years before this moment I made a choice to serve and protect my nation from external aggression, so I took the oath to fight for my people but in a dramatic twist of event I now find myself "fighting my people to protect my people".

I kept my part of the bargain when I left my warm bed, my lovely wife & little kid(s) to answer the call. Hopping upon that truck alongside selfless hearts like mine,we took that trip to unknown grounds to put an end to the brutal affliction brought upon innocent people....I crossed the Red line into hell on earth. Yes, I admit feeling fear run down my spine at some point, but I pulled my shit together and moved on because I knew only by this sacrifice will my nation have a slate on tomorrows books.

 We too were Men of class,style,talent,love and we too knew how to have fun like everyone else,yet, we walked out on it all for the call......do you know why?

Suddenly, I open my eyes and behold.....such bright light...and this sure isn't  the forest I remember...

Finally, it is  over, .........Not the battle, not the war, not the pain and not the suffering of the people...but  my life is what is over.....and I realize..... it wasn't  quiet because the tanks, guns and all had stopped pounding,but its all still and quiet because a bullet had gone straight through my Temple and drifted me to the afterlife.

 Now, I take one last look below and with so much pain I see my Father, Mother, Wife, child and all I cared for......and its too hard to say goodbye...

  Thou I have fallen, I fought the good fight for the good side, and I paid the ultimate price.

And though I and so many like me have gone away....I hope our sacrifice counts,I hope my nation sees a better tomorrow, I hope they know what we went down for....and most of all....I HOPE THEY REMEMBER US!

                                                                                      Written by Mutu'ah Samson

God Lives Only in my momma's arms

I can't find Him in the politicians, 

And all they do. These political derelicts

I can't find him in the four years promises

 Of course we know its lies

In all their propagandas

And the decree “I am for the masses'

Rising the spirit of lasses

Hoping in hope

Bloody murderers

These promises are thick ropes

Set to leave dangling

All our hopes.

I can’t find him in these dumb fanatics

These people should be dumped in the attics

Coldest coldest meanest of attics

Pawns of the derelicts

Modern Judases

Selling their pride for carrots

Transform into pillars of salt

Ye lots of lot

Abracadabra!!!

I can’t find God in them.

Alleluia!

Of course, preacher man!

Hands in the air

Frantically they move

One false prophecy

You shall be?

Be what?

I say be what?

'God says....'

God says what?

I can’t see God in Him

He sees the dream of God

Yet his followers dream dreams of the Devil

Good prophesy to the thieves

The liars

The fornicators

The killers?

I don’t think so!

I don’t see God in the followers

Of course the Sabbath day!

The solution day for all problems

Who cares what God says?

It is the doing days

Do it now

Now now now!

Alleluia!!

Shitty hypocrites!

These preachers

And these political derelicts

They made my society a field for battle

Man is hungry

Another is angry

I kill my brothers

He rapes his sisters

I steal my fathers

Sleep with my mothers.

My lover is my father

He gives me what society cant

My body is my asset.

What i have i use.

To hell with who i trample on

I must rule

Pastor says we are the chosen

Imam says we are the light

Crush all darkness

Crush all darkness to dust!!

The chaos begins!

Where is God in these?

Friends arent friends

Families arent families

The Ashes of good memories

Is the poison used for our death

Pour them into the rivers

Throw the damn thing to the wind!

God Only is a friend.

Yesterday they stole my sisters

Where will God stay?

How will the little ones find him

Preachers and derelicts

Look at the world you made?

Earthlings look what you let them make you do.

I just cant find God in anything!

This world of chaos

Only in my momma's hand is peace.

This world of chaos

Only in my momma's arms is God

In dark nights.

      SAS

  Kristen Haruna

Fatal memories.

                    

Tara stood in front of the mirror, unsure if this was what she looked like before the said accident. If her face was this oval, if her nose was tending to broadness of if her smile was beautiful. How could she have forgotten who she was and what her name sounded like? Nothing frustrated her more.

Her vision stood hazy. She was looking for a reason to continue living, she was looking for a reason to not drive the dagger she was holding through her stomach, she was looking for a reason on her wall mirror.

A fierce wind descended upon her window and made its way into her room. It carried the smell of rain. She wondered if it was the smell of rain or the tension in her fingers that had caused the tightness in her stomach. "How ironic it will be to die in front of a mirror" she thought to herself before driving the small dagger through her stomach. She felt pain and that pain brought back her memories.

And then it played before her eyes; that night in August when the rain fell in bits and lightening studded the dark grey sky, that was the night Jerome pushed her from the balcony on the second floor and that was where she lost her memory.
Then the smell of rain filled her nostrils and a dagger stood half buried in her stomach. Her memories came back but her life began to drain away. She had found a reason to live; to smell the rain, to feel the wild breeze caress her soft skin, to forgive Jerome.
 She dragged with caution to where her phone lay on the side wardrobe and she dialed Jerome.
                                                                                 Written by; Farida Adamu. 

"HUBBUB"

Again i'm wooed,
this time by disgraceful feelings,
I'm with another i beg,
But my plea seems to disappear with the night.
You want that from me that you get from another
Your desire has bits of forlony in them
Your ways speak of forlet intentions
Your words are formful yet void
Like the clouds splitting to reveal the sun
I spit my conscience to reveal a callous mind,
I'm no prey to an unstable heart
Shades of uncertainty dangles in your eye
You have pledged they will be there long before you are ready.
I won't monkey with doubts
I'll rise beyond them.
                         Omolola Onigbinde.