Skip to main content

BLEED NIGERIANS, BLEED.

 



Naija our motherland

Fertile but a fruitless land.


We live in pains 

With no gains


No hope for the unborn

Better not born.


Land, so much abound.

But few eating it abound.


What a country of greener pastures

But without futures.


An unholy monk

Dressing to mock


In a religious fashion

Adding more confusion

To the many problems afflicting the nation.


Citizens in hundreds so timid ,

Blaming the leaders so stupid.


They seem so fearless but yet so fearful.


Their hopes is their last resort

And pains their last result.


What can they do in a nation so corrupt

With their wealth in a bankrupt.


They live only for today

With their  hope on a delay.


The country is  cursed 

Without a cause 



Their leaders are deaf 

Swimming in debt 

With their name as a bait 

And the wealth even in death.


Her children are doom 

Yet  they look like they boom.


No way forward 

The future is backward.


To believe in this country is like a suicide mission

Though we have many vision 


But aborted on the alter of gluttons 

Eating the nation off it millions.


You can't stop to ponder but never to wonder 

Why the nation is in plunder.


Nigeria, a nation in tears 

That will soon be teared.


✍️ Patrick Ekong.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

DON'T LEAVE WHEN IT IS TOO LATE.

The story . Udauk was too weak to continue with the evening chores around the house because of her pregnancy. She bent over the kitchen cabinet in search of a tuber of yam she was to prepare before her husband returned from work. At the point of stretching her hands to reach the tuber of yam under the cabin, she felt a sharp pain down her abdomen. Her left lap was swollen from the beating she got the previous night from the monster's husband. She was still short of three months from her due month. That's when she was to put to birth. The shape pain was accompanied by a loud scream. She dropped the knife she had with her and tried to settle on a table-size stool lying close to the gas cylinder in the kitchen, but she couldn't. She fell and started screaming, reached out to her phone, and dialed her husband. Mr. Sam had branched  Madam G's Native Kitchen to settle for a while before heading home as his habit demands. He was busy at his usual joint with a bottle of chill
Social Media: Are we swallowed by it? It is alarming yet no longer news the rate of social media usage since the turn of the millennium. Social Media has become a tool in nearly every 9/ 10 persons we meet everyday of our lives. In fact it is estimated that youth particularly engaged in social Media taking 8/9 hours a day out of the 24hrs. Without doubt, social media has come to enhance and add more meaning to our daily life. Since the advent of social media in the early part of the millennium, the rate people get involve in these wonderful platforms keep increasing on a daily basis. To some youth and some fraction of older people, social media is like oxygen. They can't stay a moment without. A lady once said that she can't stay without visiting her Facebook page in a day. With the number of people flooding the Social media on per second basis, one will wonder if these technology has any bad effect at all. Millions of people use social media as it is the trend now,

JOURNEY OF NO RETURN.

  The story. The atmosphere was heavy, that of apprehension and uncertainty as Iquo stared at the open space leading into the compound. It was around 10:33pm that evening.  A time in Ikot Ekim community when every household had put off their lamps and retired to bed. The nocturnal sound of night creatures made the night even more looming and intense.  Nsek has never stayed out so late no matter how fierce any argument with his wife was. In their 24 years of marriage, no matter the nature of the fights Iquo has had with her husband he will always come back home to rest in his hut.  As time ticked away, she stared at the open compound, struggling to fend off the call of nature with the hope her husband would appear at the far end of the compound.  Using her hand to support her chin, she wondered how things could change so fast. Her husband Nsek was no longer the man she married. He picked fights at every little argument and would end the night with curses, accusing Iquo of turning his on