Jaachi Writes

POEM 268: BEHIND THE MASK As the snow flies and the gold fish swim in the morning, everyone wonders why I wear a smile. As the even comes and stars into twilight crawls, everyone wonders why I wear a smile. Little boy with a runny nose interrupts my thoughts with a loud sneeze, and everyone wonders why I wear a smile. Angry man bangs his head on the wall and curses the government under his breathe, everyone wonders why I smile. With my face down to the ground and my heart heavy with grief, never one know nothing kills a man faster than hoarding hurt and imploding into many tiny bits. Never one knows a sad soul curl behind the mask of smiles basking in the euphoria of fantasies that he knows would never embrace realities. Never one knows Never one ever would know Never one would care to know how unto death depression dangles a rope from the forbidden tree beckons the sad and lonely to come pluck a fruit around the neck and be one with the tree of life, unalive. It's morning agai

Dear Lady, look how your smiles tear down my defense walls. You make me stand and stare like a Chinese doll. Click link below to watch the spoken word video on YouTube 😊 https://youtu.be/evAIxR0UgKM #Pengician #SSA

POEM 266: GOD'S PLAN (ii) From me to God: Dear God, good morning, Father Why do I feel like you slept last night? While I slept, as the manner of men is, you also laid you down to sleep? It's dawn but look, the sun is gone. Not one bird tweet a song. The little plans I tried to carry through, they've failed. The tool I thought to use, they're frail. Yet your word would not I sorrow, to pause a little while, and try, again, tomorrow? But yesterday, like years past, is lost, I can't see beyond this storm of dust. Got plans for me? I don't feel good. I might scale through, who knows? Do you? Your son, Stefn. From God to me: Dear Stefn, beautiful morning, son of man. I watched over you throughout the night. If you take me by the way you feel, then your faith in me isn't real. I say this not, to cause you shame. You're human, frail in faith, I was once the same. I have walked this path you crawl today. I once carried a cross of shame along this way. At a

POEM 267: BELIEVE You may be getting older, but you can still get in time. You may have been denied a lot, but all is not lost. You may be slow at it, you’ve still got what it takes to make it. Believe! It's a journey, no two friends took off same time. Believe! It will take a while, but you'll be right on time. #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA

POEM 265: I FOUND SOLACE IN MY STORM I'm at that age of wishes evolving, when a lasting sigh takes the form of whispers, sowed in the patched sod of life throes, allowed, for a long time, to farrow: There's a storm in my head, I seek solace in it. I'm at that stage of wishes shape shifting, to take the form of that bane, that same bane that ruin and make a name. Dare I say I am a martyr who'll never die? There's a storm in my head, I seek solace in it. I'm at that page of wishes, where God is neither love nor faith but along span of pain, and loss...and gain? What the next page holds, I dread to know: There's a storm in my head, I seek solace in it. At this age staged on a page of many tales, where I stand nonchalant on solid mud, staring at a tomb of me erected 7 miles away, from perfection, the sweetest fruit, of my induction: There's a storm in my head, I seek solace in it. I am not a zephyr of rhapsodies, nay! lasting love is graffiti of illusions, I

POEM 264: DARKNESS that scary moment when time stands, on one foot like an ostrich, while earth takes a break and spin no more on her axis you curl into a ball, like a scared porcupine, the spikes erect on your back, in vain, scares your fear, darkness looms, staring at you with the eyes of the moon, and it feels, for a moment, like she will swoop in, on you, with the speed of a starving raven, and wrap you in a cloak of dark clouds, she does, darkness, she wraps you, in darkness, you feel life evaporating from your nostril, you feel your sole giving away to the pull of gravity, you feel your soul floating away from the grip of your body, last night, before sunlight crawled away from your timezone, you went on your knees, and prayed god keep you soul, but what you never knew is this: dawn is morning mask of darkness, she giggled like an evil witch, when your prayers tickled her ears. darkness got you darkness is you #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now ea

What NAME do you answer to? Ugly? Lonely? Unworthy? See video below #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

POEM 263: THERE'S A BOY SITTING BY THE ROAD there's a boy sitting by the road he's looking at what I do not know he's not looking at the sun and gathering clouds fighting over territories in the sky, because there's no flicker of awe in his eyes he's not looking at birds perching on trees flapping wings in the winds and floating effortlessly in the air, because he's not a bit amused there's a boy sitting by the road, looking at a future because last night was a nightmare there's a boy sitting by the road, resuming another loop of hunger pangs, patched lips and outstretched hands there's a boy sitting by the road, why dash past him with a straight face? there's a boy sitting by the road, don't you notice his fading frame? there's a boy sitting by the road, a drop from your tap of goodwill would do. #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with f

POEM 262: YOU'RE MY SONG, JESUS you simplify my complexity with a melody and unravel my fears with songs. you assay, with laughter, my anxiety and by faith make blunt all thongs. when I dangle on a looping dirge you caress, with grace, my fainting soul your promises are no mirage therefore unashamed I hinge my hope on every line, verse, jot, tittle written in your timeless book of truth and when I wander away in wanderlust I shall lean, again, in your direction you're the melody of unfailing love you're my song, Jesus #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician   #SSA Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

POEM 261: DOORS AND WALLS Incoming and outgoing, cabbage and garbage, everything and anything, ever swinging on dry hinges to let out and let in: doors But son, you're a wall Firm standing and unshaken, Deep rooted and unwavering, Push or pull, Sunshine or dew. Don't envy the door All may seem well In the gleeful pretentious swinging; But he who stands firm Shall live above existing. Don't swing, son; stand. With love, dad. #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

POEM 260: THANK YOU STRANGER just when one thought one's a mess, a stranger walks into the cabin, falls on one's feet and like Elisha, requests a double portion. one wonders a double portion of my mess? 'no!' says stranger, 'You're a positive influence' a double portion of inferiority complex? 'You're superior', says stranger. a double portion of what? I have nothing to offer other than that which I lost. but stranger would none of one's cold shoulder take stranger points at his coat of rags and muttered in a confident tone 'you thought you failed, sir but you earned my respect' just when one thought one's a mess, a stranger walks into the cabin of self pity, falls on one's feet, and like Elisha, requests a double portion. I never knew this mantle here despised could make waters take sides thank you stranger #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy. Please help my blog grow by leaving a commen

POEM 259: ROSES & VIOLETS Roses are red Violets are blue Honey is sweetness and so are you But the roses are wilted and the violets dead. Honey's lost its sweetness just like your lack of sense. #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

POEM 258: WILL A BOY EVER LIVE HIS FANTASIES? a boy is like a piece of rag; dirty and yearning to be washed. he's like a mold of clay; formless and yearning to take shape. he's like a fertile land; uncultivated and yearning to be tiled. he's like floating cloud; heavy and yearning to downpour. he's a dream: sleeping and yearning to come through. will a boy ever live his fantasies? #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

POEM 257: OHAMADIKE (For Nnamdi Kanu) Cowards kept mum in the face of tyranny You didn't. Indecisive folks played hide and seek, You didn't. Elders 'so called' ate fat and belched loudly, You didn't. The ignorant ones may condemn you and say all manner of ill about you but my pen, like a book of remembrance, shall remember you and write all manner of good about you. You're an embodiment of courage and dogged activism. You dared 'integrity' with harsh truth. You stepped on sacred toes and ruffled hallowed feathers. You revived a dying dream and made us love this sleep. You defied boundaries and commanded an army of united purpose. True, you had your flaws. Isn't it human to be flawed? True, you were radically unbearable. But who heeds to the plea of a roadside beggar? You showed the world, we are not pleading to be respected in a nation that was supposed to be ours. You made it known we are demanding a right wrongly stripped from us. Today, I remember

POEM 256: GOD'S PLAN? at the funeral of his daughter, old pa Sule leaned on his walking stick, to a make speech with eyes fixed on his late wife's tombstone pa Sule's voice, laden with grief echoed "when her mother died, Sera asked me: 'daddy, why couldn't God save mummy?' My heart sank like a milestone dropped in a pond, and I said to her: 'I don't know. Could be God's plan' "so annually, we stroll in here, and lay flowers, tears, wishes, Sera beside me. but here I am, flowers in my hand, tears down my cheeks, staring at what I shouldn't see, and wondering, How is this part of the plan? How in fate's name is this God's plan?" ...and pa Sule wept heaven, silent. an eerie hush fell on us hearts questioned God. I walked away, wondering, how beautiful 'God's plan' could be, so beautiful He hurts faithful worshipers? #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy. Please help my blog g

COST OF CHOICE Earth! Dear earth, I'm drained drained by the choice in our loss perfection spells peace and freedom but our choice chose selfishly lost in its blindness of greed I sit yet I'm restlessly tamed tamed by meticulous necessity the beginning was bound in life but violation crept steadily and made a feast upon dust If I cried the world to war it won't fix the lost choice lost is man in his world lost we brood in the cost of choice living the impact of imperfection There is a reason my soul cries for a home yonder within the heart the tempest of a costly choice still these choices I must make till my eyes go dim to earth. #Pengician #SSA

POEM 255: WHEN PAIN'S ALL YOU HAVE LEFT a sage believes he is as good as his God and also, as good as god. so he dives into a pool of sin and cast aspersions on the papacy but a sage forgets to remember he is a son, a friend, a lover ans is an enigma flawed yet a sage would none of these acknowledge for to death does he love his heart’s chagrin. So much he dares the pain you inflict and cares little like less love's lingering plague a sage walks bare sole into an inferno of fleeting thighs and dips deep his unclad soul into dim lit life passages, trapped, a sage's soul sings sad lullabies to babies made while men slept and babies laid while none wept a sage knows it is a sin, blasphemy but he's as good as god and scribbles satire of a lovelorn rabbi what worse pain can sin repay? a sage doesn't know paydays don't postpone and karma would none of his deed destruct, until it beats to the rhythms of spent despair, a sage would kneel in piety prayer but none would h

POEM 254: DEAR NUN I pray thee, dear nun, a morning psalm don’t be to me. Would rather you sow, deep in my heart, the yearning of your bud, in the wake of twilight. I pray thee, dear nun, in vain doth my want restrain from wrapping us in a hell of heavenly bliss, for though I kiss my Rosary, still it be blasphemy to rise and fall in lust's refrain. The lingering whiff of your first menses nor the beauty wrapped in flowing gown, doth conceal you inert desires, nor veil, with virtues, you [I dread to say nor write], for we’re far beyond those pretenses in which we cage love in pious frown You could hold a smile, it won't millstone your soul and cast thee hence in heart of Sheol. Shed now your sigh, estranged the flowing gown and let your long-lost heart embrace wanton thoughts. For they both appear, to pay sin’s toll, not one word from thence shall condemn your soul So would you make me now sweat beads from your Rosary? Would you let me take to another realm where clouds shall we

They're here. God! They've found you! To run or hide? Your limbs needs no deliberation. You sprint off. Light's speed. Breathless! Their vision is based on movement. You're spotted. They give chase. Hot chase. Relentless! 'Run!' You hear your mother's voice echoing from wherever. You are startled. You halt. Turn around. No human in sight. 'Keep running, son!'  You shiver. Your hair is erect like an excited phallus. They're fast, too fast. they're catching up. You could feel their hands ripping your flesh apart. Turn and fight or hide? A rush of adrenaline. You turn. Their yellow eyes pierce your biceps. Your courage deflates. You turn. You sprint. 'Hide' The voice is still.  You stop on your tracks. Your heart drumming like hard rock beats. You don't trust this new voice. You can't deduce the owner. Your memory hurries to search past voices registered in it's index. You feel fragmented. No face to match the voice. 'H.

For Naija, any which way na way, but unto sey we no wan loss, we kukuma carry waka sidan for house. Who waka epp?  - Stefn Sylvester Anaytonwu WHICH WAY? E don tey wey I de pray make Jah show me the way; But e be like say Jah compass no de behave. I no go shock sef if boys don move am enter Agege. Test the thing sharply hail am that other way. In Nigeria everybody even pikin has to know the way, Everybody wey you meet go talk say all way na way. I enter bank say make I withdraw my change; I jam queue wey take small thing pass my eye gauge, As I de think my life for queue de wait my turn, Two men like that just enter sharply collect their coins; People hala but the sharp guys no even budge, The important thing is that their pockets have bulged. Toh, all of us know say all way na way. My editor guy carry im lappy de go work; I been tell am the night before say im dreads no work, My guy ignore me and to his utter shock, SARS stop am the next day ask am im handwork; As baba shape mouth to

I GREW UP in me words were trapped; they couldn’t find their way out they were prisoners locked up in my head so i grew up with tongue atrophied in my mouth once i’ve been told, ‘there’s a place in you where it is all alive’ so i searched and i searched till i lurched and i lurched then on a night the sky was filled with dancing stars on that same night my heart robbed of my appetite and sleep i found this place where it is all alive this place with people whose presence i felt we laughed, we played, we talked there i was taught how to mask my emotions clean as a whistle like a gift, I wrapped up my emotions with tape and i placed it away from my sleeves some days when i step out of my comfort zone i inflame, i drench, i fall for i couldn’t stand the gaze of vulnerability of broken eyes, healed eyes, stout eyes. . . so i fall back to my head “sleep little one sleep dear one sleep little one” there’s a place in you where it all happens” often, my mum would sit by my side and cradle me t

AFRICANS; TRIUMPH IN SIGHT FOR VIRTUES CONCEALED The mother land that instills in us spirited culture With varying smash of tones Rises in us concealed beauty from a toiling legacy Deprived and battered doesn’t begin to describe us From the rising of the sun to its setting  Ceaseless attempts at survival has become our only mindset  Striving to break from the holds of what we only know In ruins and slums innocent lives spawned are bred to survive Life gets devoid of definition and purpose  It only rings in us the call for a war we have to fight A burden we have to bear until the inevitable claws of death grips us To our birthrights we are bastards  Ones spawned for no inheritance of the treasures carried and spewed from the womb of our soil Yet our rage is neither justified nor considered worthy of us We are rejected by our blood  Cast out by our counterparts  In massive struggle to be accepted we adopted a culture That speaks of a different heritage to what we know of Yet we are never

The Path We Walk This is the path, A path of silent rattle of a labouring mother, She died in thousand eyes. The path of rot fleshes and piteous infants of 'milkless' breast. Children! This is the path we walk.... The path of our ancestral spirits, Of demons part without sacrifice of justice, The path gods and goddesses drew battle lines. Their blood, water and bones are still breathing. A path of curse. The path stinks of corruption and inhumanity. See them as they spray soothing aerosol to arrest their weaknesses. Both blended and stinks beyond adaptation. Nigeria here we are... This is the path they lay our legs The path of infant head facing other way in silence. Where are the elders? Alas, this is the path we walk on. About Writer: Popoola Oladeji Abdullahi is a 200 level student of the department of Aquaculture and Fisheries Management, faculty of Renewable and Natural Resources, University of Ibadan. He bagged an NCE certificate in Agric Education from the Federal Colleg

POEM 253:  ' if you can explain colours to the blind you'll save yourself from a sorry life ' a boy lifts his eyes above his perspective and catches a glimpse of floating beauty a boy's heart stops to beat and assumes the think role creating curves and wandering hands simulating soundtracks of cloudy nines filing into black holes a one eyed man a boy is lost... until a closer gaze a boy adjusts his lenses in remembrance to yesterday's lessons a closer look zoom in zoom out a boy sees scars in beautiful lines and masked cracks in smile curves a boy notices the bum don't bounce and perhaps, the hips doth lie a boy shrugged and remembered 'if you can explain colours to the blind you'll save yourself from a sorry life' a boy lowers his eyes below his belt and tucks his member into it's sheath. #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy.  I introduced Facebook Comment feature. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment

POEM 252: SOLITUDE  In times like this, I sink into a dark hole of self, noiselessly all my pain shed into lines of untitled poems, until I evaporate into shelves - solitude in books. #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy.  I introduced Facebook Comment feature. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

POEM 251: MOVE ON sometimes storm and a boy is terrified. sometimes calm and a boy feels safe and sound. sometimes sweet and the tongue dangle with drools sometimes stale and a boy dreads to belch sometimes up and low lands lay lower down sometimes down and above forever far sometimes there's neither this nor that that's when a boy circles the past move on, boy! #365DaysOfPoetry #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy.  I introduced Facebook Comment feature. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

Not your regular kind of poem POEM 250: WHAT IF TRUTH IS A LIE CALLED 'GOD''? my name is Stephen and stones my first death did precede. Forget reincarnation, I'm risen again not the Sanhedrin to finger as to tickle their hate I'm here with a quill to prickle your faith. that conjecture, as bestowed us, christened 'holy fear' it's gone beyond 'what ifs' it's another ‘lie’. if you would please tell me why faith be my first and ‘Last Supper’ and blood my sweet sin-pie I'll swallow my pride. you baptized me with doctrines without my will and urge me embrace convictions I would not permit this fear termed 'holy' you made me inherit could only keep me faithful until I taste of that tree. where then is the efficacy of 'holy fear' if the debt of Christ's remains my soul cannot keep, nor prayers you made us recite, my heart cannot cleanse? God and faith, are fear’s, coup de maître it suits up wanton desires in a cloak of piety.

POEM 249: PINE APPLE He smiled A pineapple in his hand. He chewed and in pain pined contained in his pineapple were spiky leaves of a pine masked in the alluring skin of an apple #Pengician #SSA Enjoyed reading? Commenting is now easy.  I introduced Facebook Comment feature. Please help my blog grow by leaving a comment and sharing with friends. Thank you!

SPECTACULAR ME Stealthy I walk Trying to hard to be brave I dread to blink lest they see my tears. Stealthy I sneak Through their raised brows I dare not blink Lest they see my fears That was then Fast forward to now Grey glasses Green grasses Glasses that shine Now mask my tears with glittering stars Smoke glasses Smiling faces now greet me on every side Googly glasses Dark glasses in the sunshine I can now see clearer because I've got mine. #Pengician #SSA

BECOME THE POSITIVE IMPACTOR Guest post by John Uchenna Uzoma. Wonderful greetings to you, before this brief moment. I believe you have started rumbling thoughts in you over the above topic, under today's WEEKEND MEALS. This topic, is boiling down to those who has already discovered, pretested and rejuvenated their destiny in various professional fields of human being and his mankind.  Oh! yes, you don't get drenched by rain and wear same clothes for over 48hours. Else, you get smelling badly, that one would see you as a dirty person, while such word isn't in your dignified dairy of living. Reason is: * because you failed to pull off those clothes, wash them, dry them and perhaps, wear them again or another. Taking the above into corresponding emphasis, * you have to share your knowledge with another... * show them the rights and wrongs in that field... * help them climb on bit by bit, until you see the person pick up and good to do with... * and always be there for such pe