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Copyright © 2020

Society of Young Nigerian Writers (SYNW) & International Human Rights Art Festival (IHRAF)

E-mail: [email protected]

Tel: 08072673852

Published 2021

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical including photocopy, recording or by any information storage and retrieved system without the written permission of the Society of Young Nigerian Writers (SYNW) & the International Human Rights Art Festival (IHRAF).

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SYNW Publishers

A division of Infortude Consult

No 13, Queen Elizabeth Road, Mokola, .

08072673852

Email: [email protected]

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

EDITORS’ NOTE

BERMUDA TRIANGLE THE LABOUR OF OUR PROTESTERS Godstime Nwaeze SHALL NOT BE IN VAIN Daniel Singfuri Yohanna STATE ARMED ROBBERS SQUAD (SARS) SPLIT GREEN FLAG Frank Kaliati Chukwu Sunday Abel

ENDSARS, A DIRGE TO THE FALLEN END SARS! LAWMAKERS, OR LAWBREAKERS HEROES Olude Peter Sunday Zainab Adekunle Abubakar

WHAT I WANT US TO BE STRANGE TO MY PEN, A SILENT OUTCRY FOR Chinua Ezenwa-Ohaeto JUSTICE Lazarus Great-life HOW OUR LIGHTS WERE PUT OFF Nwokeabia, Ifeanyi John. THE TOOTHBRUSH Thomas Mzembe TALK TRUE Nkiru Onyeyaforo BLOODY FLAG Dooga Theophilus SPARE US! SPARE US! Adaji Elizabeth Mercy OUR VOICE, OUR STAND Kolade Olawale Kabir Àdèlé THE CRUMBS THEY LET FALL Ejiro Ekperigin THE SARS WE FORMED Oranye Chukwubuikem Francis GUNS END DREAMS Olawumi Oluwasogo END SARS Victor Chineme Okachi IN LEKKI, HEROES PREVAILED... Merife, Chisom Victor : FROM FREEDOM TO FEAR TO OUR HEROES UP Ofure Ehizogie Adefeyintola Adesegun FROM HUMAN TO #ASHTAG! REQUIEM FOR VICTIMS OF LEKKI Ugbe Emmanuel Unimniake MASSACRE Chidiebere Enyia SÒRÒSÓKÈ Olaewe David Opeyemi THE NIGHT WHEN DOVES CRIED Shola Balogun PLAGUED BY THE ANGER OF HUNGER OUR MOTHERLAND WEPT! Sunday Afolayan Etumnu Ugochukwu Bright

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END THE DEMONS CHOKING OUR Seyi Omotoso LIVES Ololade Akinlabi Ige JOURNEY TO HOPE Agada Patience Anthony WHO PULLED THE TRIGGER? Rita Udeme Effiong END SARS Umeorah Johnbosco VOICE FIGHT Bassey Asuquo THE TOLL GATE OF DEATH Obiwuru Chidera Rex BATTERED Julius Topohozin END SARS Ajayi Tolulope Olusegun CHEEPING EAGLE Mark Dave INQUEST FOR FREEDOM!. TILL OUR VOICES AND HANDS DINE Blessing Chinenye David THE ZENITH Chinedu Vincent Okoro HOMELAND IN PAIN Enyia Lilian Nkechinyere THE NIGERIAN 9/11 Uzodimma Deborah Chimdimma END SARS David Jonathan Inyang GREETINGS

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EDITORS’ NOTE

Literature and arts owe society the duty not just to entertain and educate but also to document the history of the people as well as mirror and x-ray the society. The collaborative efforts of the Society of Young Nigerian Writers, SYNW, and the International Human Rights Arts Festival, IHRAF, to harness the thoughts, feelings and responses of Nigerian artists and creative writers and the international writing community on the theme of , assault and battery by organizing a national poetry contest tagged ‗EndSARS‘ National Poetry Competition, 2020 is indeed timely and commendable. The bold step to publish some of the outstanding entries is no doubt as important as that of collation, selection, recognition and award of very remarkable pieces from deserving participants in the EndSARS National Poetry Competition, 2020.

Globally, police are generally known for their corrupt tendencies such as bribery, extortion, high handedness, brutality and human rights abuses, sometimes leading to extra judicial killings and so on. The Nigeria Police has not been an exception to this global anomaly. In 2017, a campaign using the ‗#ENDSARS‘ by to demand the disbanding of the Special Anti Robbery Squad, SARS unit of the Nigeria police by the Nigerian government started. The government responded by introducing some changes in the Special Anti Robbery Squad, SARS such as the creation of the Federal Special Anti Robbery Squad, FSARS.

In October, 2020, there were renewed calls for the disbandment of SARS generally. This time, the online and campaign was followed by widespread , marches, demonstrations, online activism and in some cases. These took place in almost all cities of Nigeria with solidarity protests in other parts of the world as well. Finally, the federal government of Nigeria was compelled to dissolve the SARS unit on 11th October, 2020. The unit was however, quickly replaced with the creation of the Special Weapons and Tactics unit, SWAT. The was unique for its high patronage by mostly young Nigerians and later took the dimension of a movement that soon expanded to include demands for good and accountable governance amongst others.

Members of the allegedly opened fire on peaceful protesters at the Lekki toll gate in state on the night of 20th October, 2020. According to , at least twelve protesters were killed in cold blood during the shootings even though some sources say the figure was higher. All these happened at a time when the global community was brought to its knees by the Corona virus, COVID-19 pandemic. Another intriguing part of the protest was the massive looting of warehouses across many states in Nigeria. Relief materials and palliative meant to be shared to the poor and venerable during the COVID-19 lockdown and restriction of movements were hoarded and stashed in various warehouses in many states. On the discovery of those undistributed food items in the midst of hunger, severe economic conditions and hardship, warehouses were broken into and large consignments of food items and palliatives were carted away by the masses whom the authorities described as ‗hoodlums‘. One can therefore, imagine

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Working on entries received in the intriguing EndSARS National Poetry Competition as judges and subsequently as editors has been a journey on a cacophony of emotions and of torrents of harrowing and captivating experiences. As living witnesses to excesses of the Nigeria police, bad governance, decaying infrastructure and corruption, working on more than a hundred entries on the above theme was indeed emotion laden. It was a difficult decision, discarding any entry as everyone wrote evidently from horrible encounters and personal experiences with members of the Nigeria Police.

Selecting few entries for award out of more than a hundred beautiful entries from very creative and talented poets across international borders is by no means an easy task as earlier stated. The pain of having to eliminate some fine entries to arrive even at a longlist of twenty, let alone a shortlist is by far one of the most excruciating and unsung aspects of the job of a judge and editor of a contest whose central theme touches on a global and sensitive aspect of our shared humanity. It is therefore, a huge source of consolation to the judges and editors for the opportunity to publish additional pieces out of the vast pool of amazing entries received during the call for entries to the EndSARS National Poetry Competition in 2020.

We are happy therefore, for this unique opportunity to make available for your reading pleasure, a significant number of pieces out of the more than a hundred entries we received. It is also hoped that this modest gesture will placate and further console an additional number of those who sent in entries for the competition. We also hope that this compilation provides a rich reading resource to every one of our readers.

Terseer Sam Baki

Wole Adedoyin

January, 2021

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BERMUDA TRIANGLE

Here, it is not safe to wear tattoos, dreadlocks; to look posh, drive a Benz, or own a laptop, because they could pull the trigger that leaves you in a pool of blood- many things are not safe to do. It is not safe to sit outside in my neighborhood; you could be forced into a black van to a small bleak godforsaken latrine. Your trip could continue to a Bermuda triangle where a bloody river is both a means of transportation and an untimely arrival to eternity- there is one in Awkuzu.

It is not safe to travel from Edo to , or ply the - road. This means that the many boys like me who cannot afford the wings of anything that flies, rent our bodies as wages to the brutality of the Police. Sometimes in 2019, after searching even the most private parts of our lives, and there just had to be at least one scapegoat, they asked our driver to continue, leaving this young man behind. They had found a pinch of paper in his wallet; they said he used it to smoke. How could such a tiny thing put a man in a trouble that had my heart racing ahead of the bus? I peeped through the window hoping for the Acts of the Apostles but the quietness of that check point blurred my heart, and the surrounding bushes seemed to house unspeakable secrets.

Elsewhere, there is an offering box on the highway, where those on pedals are forced off their steering to surrender their tokens to the force of firearms. For Jimoh Isiaq among others, it was not safe to call for an end to Police brutality. And though it is not safe to remember, we will never forget.

Godstime Nwaeze

Note: Barmuda Triangle is a poetic prose

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STATE ARMED ROBBERS SQUAD (SARS)

The law generously ejaculates lawlessness Down the virgin body of Mama The law has raped Lady Peace and Fraternity We shiver that we shake as lost lambs The Mighty law is brutal than the witch Corona Heavy black boots polished in black blood A deafening cry tears the very silent heavens Another black soul so soon severed Widowing poverty impoverished mothers Orphaning already malnourished babies The defenders betraying own sacred oath Spewing terror on the tight reins of the Law A new virus unleashed deep down the streets A deadly virus of our own design A failed experiment creating demons to haunt us Day in, day out robbing, raping and killing Married to the very Law, immune to prosecution The dark virus in human form The spirits of the old have abandoned us The birds no longer melody sweet mornings Gun shots punctuated by beatings linger the airs The fierce legendary battle of evil over good The Law embracing corruption and brutality Armed with justice, we fight on

Frank Kaliati

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END SARS! LAWMAKERS, OR LAWBREAKERS

I, am the tickling talks of the town, black bullets on the lips of gory guns– I maim without mercy– I sting the groups I guide, and vaunt the voice of virtuous denizens into rotten reverberations.

I, am the shield of the streets, the shepherd in fine suits, to secure– but I fire without favour– I gash bruises on the skins of my sheep, and like evening wolves, I tore the sons I screen, and rinse their bloods into the darkness of my dreams.

I, am the anti-robbery in want of anti-robbing, armed forces to prune the arms of my pride; for like goliath‘s fall: I have proven to be, and, to let the shadows of the innocent hurry home before their body; cut-me-off, end me. in name, and scattered offices; I am still the coiling poison. the toxic songs in the throats of my prey– for if my brutal bones be mixed with mercy, I will exploit thousand livers and lives alive, and even fly far to hunt the peace of the souls I have slain.

Olude Peter Sunday

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WHAT I WANT US TO BE STRANGE TO

This day begins with bullets. Another day for sons and daughters to breathe their last. First, it starts with apprehending, then baton-ing, then panicking, Then gunshots, then more panicking, then more gunshots, Then screams, then more more gunshots, then more screams, then deaths. Another day for sons and daughters to breathe their last. I want us to be strange to this violence. I want us to be strange to these brutalities. Last week, a boy was apprehended down the street And forced into a van and taken away. No questioning. No warrant. No crime scene. He looks like a thief, that's evidence, they said. The boy's arm has arrays of tattoos. It's evidence, they said. With a hair cooked neatly as art. Evidence, they said. His beards grown and plenty I could hide inside. Evidence. They said. The boy has an iPhone. Massive Evidence, they said. Thereafter, the boy was thrown into a dark room and tortured to his innocence: Forced to confess what he didn't do; forced to name guiltless people; Forced to empty his banks accounts; forced to drink his urine. Thereafter, the boy was shot dead after he survived These tortures, and then dumped into a river like he was dirt. Yet, the country's flag keep flying without its people.

Chinua Ezenwa-Ohaeto

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HOW OUR LIGHTS WERE PUT OFF

When our dispersed voices failed to beckon ears, We hopefully gathered them like a bunch of broom At the cross of toll gate, our new found abode. We supplicated day and night for untreated wounds.

The symphony created by crescendo of rising voices, Voices seeking justice for voiceless victims Quaked the hills of our merciless messiahs, Who slithered silently like snakes in a mission, And struck the unarmed bodies at Lekki with darkness.

Wails, revving the already distraughted air, Booms of gun fires sent bodies sprawling, A sea of red is spluttered and scattered everywhere, Sending splashes of red on standing clothes.

Green, white, green became green, red, green. Our anthem of patriotism became a dirge, For many holding flags, sang to their darkness. That's how our lights were put off.

Though, the bodies might have been laid to rest, The burning fires of the minds are forever ignited. Darkness never ends life.

Nwokeabia, Ifeanyi John.

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TALK TRUE

I thought ―talk true‖ was a statement Until I tasted your baton on my head And the butt of your rotten guns Reshaped the shape of my jaw Offence number one, speaking too much English ―Why would you ask, ‗what is my offence?‘‖

What a nightmare! , I mean what horror! Why this shiny handcuffs? Come! Why are you towing me to the station? Hit! Crack! I tasted my own blood, tickling down my jaw line, down to the collar of my immaculate white shirt What a stare! A blend of blood! Tears! And sweat! Offence number two! ―Sign this paper!‖ ―Officer?‖ ―Sign at once!‖ ―Offence, highway robber!‖ ―Goodness!‖ Kicks, slaps, more butting! Paper signed Open, closed-behind bars

Eight pairs of eyes hit mine Bloodshot, skin torn Pain and confusion masked all faces Pair one! Offence ... Refusal to drop egunje! Pair two! Offence ...annoying an officer? Aha! Pair three! Offence…. No broom in the vehicle Goodness! Pair four! Offence … asking an officer direction without dropping uhmm… egunje Hee! I, aha! Offence … refusal to part with my phone Our monies? Gone! Accessories stolen! Body bloodied, spirit broken By our uniform robbers, paid to keep us safe Now kept unsafe in an unknown cell By people paid to keep us safe.

Nkiru Onyeyaforo

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SPARE US! SPARE US!

Here's an escape from the dark dank cave of silence We, with our tails between our teeth Like bridled ass, yielding headlong to master's wip Shackles on our necks like dangling Jewels We were made denizens of shut cages Only peeping through bars to see what tomorrow brings

Is brutality our new mantra In retrospect, we decided to gird our loins Yea, we the the roaches of yesternight Took the arm of "one voice" To stage a revolt against injustice In winter or summer, our united arms will suffice

Didn't we get independence to revivify us? Yet we're battered with inhumanity Empty rhetorics of political slogan Falsified mandates in eloquence This, clustered with brutality We'd not wear the insignia of fright anymore

Our Petitions aren't Insipid Yet, it's hidden behind the air of insouciance Our lives at the mercy of stray bullets We would give in only in death Look how the grave cries, "spare us, spare us".

Adaji Elizabeth Mercy

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THE CRUMBS THEY LET FALL they made monsters from the crumbs they let fall and the dust underneath the carpet and the splatter of mosquito blood who hummed truth in their ears at night and the mountain of trash teeming at the foot their bed clear greasy plantain chip wrappers who come alive at the fan‘s swing and they furrow their cold brows for in the deepest realms of REM they are haunted by their final reality the feverish screams of the lives they stole and never knew till they drown in a pool of sweat blood and coins

Ejiro Ekperigin

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GUNS END DREAMS Guns end dreams How do I know? It ended the dreams of a mic with a magical flow flow like a river cooling the heat in the heart but the Guns made that flow blood and ended the dream just because he had a lock on his head which they dread

Guns end dreams How do I know? It ended eldorado in the heart of a soul poised to be the head of the pack and engage eldorado with our existence but the Guns killed that soul Oh! Now how will our existence find her groomy groom eldorado?

Guns end dreams How do I know? It ended the brains that had dreams where men fly dreams where the sky became home and the moon became the dining room while the sun became more forgiven and calm dreams where sky scrappers truly scrapped the sky and poverty became homeless where light became a duvet to darkness dreams where love returned from exile and made man man's best friend and there was enough heart to go round so the heartless could find a heart. but the guns ended that dream.

I have a question for these guns Whose side are you on? Let me help you; The agbada with the green padlock? Who rob you while you rob us why don't we both kill the robbery The agbada steal your life and humanity hence, the bitter wine of brutality you spill on us while you let them set you on us like a rottweiler on a hapless victims You call us your friends but I guess that's your lingua translation for the English word "Enemies"

We don't hate you though neither are we your foe Take our outstretched hands and let us free you rottweilers from the masters who malnourished you

Olawumi Oluwasogo

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IN LEKKI, HEROES PREVAILED...

Now hear us, you inhabitants of the world! Never again shall we remain silent, for our posterity is in threat of slavery. Never again will we fear death, for we are not better than our painfully departed comrades; for even in life, the occupants of Hades pitied our sorrows.

In our mother's wombs, we learned the mystery of hunger, yet we have endured. In peace, we begged to be listened to; however, they ripped our veins open in response. In agony, we queried why? But in their pride, they murdered us in our prime!

God, where are you? Wickedness abounds! Goats and cows are made precious over mankind. Gold and silver, they traded for human life. In evil-conquest, our leaders defect the Satan!

The weeping of our motherland, who can console? In the month of her Independence, they murdered her youths! In the month of her Freedom, freedom died! In the month of her Liberation, they mocked liberty! When she aged sixty, she was made barren!

Our sorrow knows no bounds. Our comrades were prematurely shown the portal to eternity. Yet, they faced death confidently: shoot us, they dared. Of a truth, heroes, they were. We shall always immortalize your courage. Your sacrifices shall never be in vain. To all fallen heroes of the Lekki massacre, we forever bow in reverence!

Merife, Chisom Victor

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TO OUR HEROES UP It was just a peaceful protest A clamour for change and freedom, In high spirits and dope looks Their voices rang in unison A new country they stood for But the men in Black made game They dimmed light and dashed hopes And made them a red sea of flesh But this is our truth and cry Bloods of martyrs, our heroes Shall never spill in vain To their memories ever alive Shall our pledges be made For their souls, our candles be raised To the new Nigeria reign, Will their statues be built We weep for your depart With a broken heart, A parting that never heals

Adefeyintola Adesegun

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REQUIEM FOR VICTIMS OF LEKKI MASSACRE

Terror tears my heart when chaos breaks out at the Lekki toll gate. The death rise in high rate as the uniform thugs in their hate opened fire on the mammoth crowd that gathered for the EndSARS protest. They were Nigerians, they were youths from different tribes and ethnic background, holding their nation‘s flag, singing their nation‘s anthem, marching peacefully with their placards, billboards and cardboards bearing the inscription ―End SARS,‖ ―End police brutality‖, ―Reform Police‖ ―End Corruption,‖ ―We want a better country…‖ They were mowed down after the cameras were switched off from the eyes of the world. Bullets pierced the bodies of armless protesters whose voice were chanting freedom. The national flag stained with blood of citizens. The ground soaked with blood tears flowed freely to mourn the departed heroes.

Chidiebere Enyia

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THE NIGHT WHEN DOVES CRIED

(A poem in honour and memory of those who lost their lives during End SARS protests)

Salaams,

Luminous Doves,

Just now I discovered That I was weeping for you All through this hour, All over you. Your spirit witnessing the nightmare In black October in falling tears.

You were on your knees. You were holding, raising our national flags tearfully As gunfire broke the skies All over you, Ripping the flags, rippling All over you.

You continued to sing. You were on your knees Bending over. Blood battered All over you. And you cried also.

You are the living fire interpretations Of my heart brokenness, the river In the space of my emptiness, The flower-frame of a thousand bullets,

Shaking your thunder rain falling tears All over me now.

Shola Balogun

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OUR MOTHERLAND WEPT!

Give words to my pen oh muse of tragedy That I tell this saddest of tale, a tale of woe A tale of a deranged mother who turned against her own. Which poet can do justice to this great injustice? As streets are crimson red with blood, As mothers wail bitterly for sons of their wombs, And fathers shake their head in desolate grief. Siblings mourn lost of dearest one.

A strange shadow hovers over our motherland As she wept tears of blood, blood of her children Frail voices lament the woe of our motherland, Voices amidst the dead bodies! The frail, faint cry of the slain. I saw the motherland died! She died covered with shame and scorn She died battered and bruised! Crisscrossed with bullet wounds.

In a torrent of roseate blood, she went down Calling our names as she went down Down into the mire, down in a pool of her blood For our motherland we wept. She is slain by those vowed to protect her She came unarmed and brave! And yet among her children she lay dead.

Voices of the dying singing the anthem, Voices calling for ―peace and unity‖ ―If they ask what happened here, tell them we died for her‖ Such words rent my heart and my soul. For our motherland they died.

For Nigeria we sigh in anguish, We wept with the blood of her children Snatched by the cold hands of tyranny Our country is fallen. In our fallen she is fallen. Our country in fires burns, in ashes atoning The Phoenix from the ashes shall rise.

We mourn our unsung heroes We will tell the generation yet unborn They died that we may live The glorious birth of the motherland hoped for

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She will be born like the morning sun. That day will dawn by the sweat and blood willingly given And horde of enemies permanently crushed. So must it be.

Etumnu Ugochukwu Bright

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THE LABOUR OF OUR PROTESTERS SHALL NOT BE IN VAIN

(For those who never lived to see the end of the revolution)

We the broken boys starred at an armed khaki man That stole the smile of a fine rich red wine In the fretful street of , A city whose cleavage is a path of crude oil.

Later that evening on our social media handles, We saw a banquet of youthful bloodshed twerked Its thighs before the nose of our metaphor, It slaughtered the simile of our fine poetry That walked on the street of Lagos for solidarity.

Their sins they said were the #EndSARS placards Which they held, the country's anthem that Romanced their numbed lips, and the way they Sermon the god of Nigeria to end police brutality That took the lives of fresh pumpkins of our nation.

Have we the broken boys eaten the forbidden fruit In the middle of the garden for paddling their canoes Away from the contaminated shore of demo-crazy By seeking a beautiful island of fretful democracy?

Those low income combatant khaki men are no Longer our sworn friends like yesterday, for their guns Couldn't recognize the symphony of our poetry When street lights were turned off at Lekki-Toll-Gate,

For Mama Ngozi's only pumpkin died there Alongside poor Adedoyin's brilliant grandchild, With Musa the cobbler that bled to death Just for professing #EndSARS, #Endpolicebrutality.

Their untimely demise had carved ―Twenty ten, twenty twenty‖ On the tablet of our hearts, with the little air In our healthy lungs we shall write and sing ballads To our children and grandchildren to come about them.

Daniel Singfuri Yohanna

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SPLIT GREEN FLAG

By the side of a desolate green billowing flag, I hear the surging wailing voices of our heroes past Coincide with the silent voices of the gagged, Who live to groan and gnash their burdened teeth.

As Shepherds turned hunters and haunters of the herd, Keepers of Peace became breachers, their humanity drained by cruelty; The green billowing flag split, turned pale, and voices of our heroes past drowned By the fierce river of specious loyalty.

By the side of the desolate green split billowing flag, I hear wailing voices of compatriots Switchblades on their necks, thorns on their paths, fear in their hearts; Subjugated by the incorrigible kleptomaniac claws of those who swore to defend; To keep the Peace and to prosecute offenders of Peace. Echoes of dirges like melodious rhythm in the medley, only that no one wants to be a casualty, And there seemed to be no end in the sight of these sour songs.

Blued Judas for compatriots denting hope of a working nation, Keepers of Peace and Prosecutors of Offenders of peace. Can a kingdom divided against itself stand ? Shall the Labour of our heroes past be in vain? By the side of the desolate split green billowing flag of the nation, I am resolved to sew the split green flag, to restore her honour and glory, But an invisible string tethered on mount kilimanjaro, holds my hand.

Chukwu Sunday Abel

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ENDSARS, A DIRGE TO THE FALLEN HEROES

So I wonder, is it a crime to love your country? Wanting the best for her and her youths. Fighting for Justice against brutality from those paid to protect us. Seeking for good governance and accountability. Seeking for a sane clime for her youths to Live, to grow, to survive.

First week of October was her Independence. But it wasn't until its second week, when her youths truly found their Independence from these oppressions. They storm out the streets with one heart, one love and one aim. Chanting that one word that unified them all, "EndSARS".

The youths from all spheres of life came out. And just for a matter of days our strength was shown to the whole world. With great display of what accountability, commitment and efficiency truly means. A trait the older generation has failed to exhibit.

Alas! They felt threatened, Threatened by our strength, our unity and our numbers. They tear-gassed us, they water-sprayed us, at worst they shot at us. But we persevered, just as we've always been forced to.

October 20th, 2020. A date to be remembered and scribed in all books of history. A day our leaders declared war against their youths. A day their blood was shed at the Lekki toll gate, Lagos. A date never to be forgotten.

The blood of Jimoh Isiaq and all those massacred shall not be in vain. Our national flag was stained by the blood of those who upheld it. Hence For their sakes, we shall not forget! They say it's over, but the youths say "We shall live to fight again, for the fight is yet to begin." For the souls lost, they've lived on, for the country never truly deserved them, it failed them!

Zainab Adekunle Abubakar

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MY PEN, A SILENT OUTCRY FOR JUSTICE

The lines of battle are drawn The cry for justice echoes Youths rise for a new dawn A peaceful fight against their foes

Agitated by innocent bloodshed, They move out to fight for their rights But my pen, it speaks louder than their wails and cries My book still bears tales long forgotten

Stories of youths slain by the edge of the sword Innocent ones, wrongly accused John and Emma, killed in cold blood Henry and Linda whose rights were abused

Right now, my pen scribbles faster and harder It calls out for justice for all For the young ones being killed by their fathers. Whose blood," Vengeance" call

Enemies of our future "No!" they say to our tomorrow Destinies they try to push out of the picture Shall we, this, continue to undergo?

Arise as my pen leads the fight Rewrite history's mistakes and future errors Say no to police brutality with all your might No to all those who try to stop our efforts

Lazarus Great-life

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THE TOOTHBRUSH

The package was all rosy Inside it a holy toothbrush, innocent As calm as a dove, unmatched humility A tussle for toothbrushes rolled on The cute, the strong and the brave wrestled The elite and laymen, hoofing for destiny Silver blinding the blind brain, poverty effects

So of all toothbrushes, only one won Slowly the innocence begin to cease True colours exposed and nudity seen We thought it was white? It's black beneath It's drink is our saliva and food our gums We pant for breath, dry tongue dipped in fire Oh we are burning, our throat, oh our mouth

So the gums tire and the lips drain The mouth speaks of its lost kids And its anaemic ailments from blood sucking The toothbrush fattening from poor gums See blood, feel the peeling tongue on the toothbrush Flesh and blood mix to quench the thirst of it We all thought it will heal our scurvy? No!

In a rare union of the diseased A voice began to sprout from within A rescue mission employed from the sick So the streets enjoyed the pain peacefully But the toothbrush in pursuit of more blood Ordered the brushes to sweep the teeth bloodily Blood and flesh barbequed on the streets We thought the brushes were once like us? In a speech to be heard, lives were lost like ants But we are united, we will fight the toothbrush in peace

Thomas Mzembe

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BLOODY FLAG

Gently, the flag travels across The four cardinal points preaching The gospel of clustering and fondness As marked by the fore and fathers.

Its lone voice greeting ears nearby And its tenderness encapsulating Both sprouting and trampled souls As rain rained down its cheeks.

―That wasn't the dream!" He whines as He moves listening to the popular song Composed by his fore and fathers ―Youths are the leaders of tomorrow..."

And another, ―" Now turned into ―Elders are leaders Forever" orchestrated by those who Sucked the breast with pat and lullabies.

Dooga Theophilus

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OUR VOICE, OUR STAND

Raise a voice, take a stand, Our streets are nothing but Pools of blood of unripe fruits From branches of our family trees; Stray bullet killed one, An unknown man in uniform Gunned another down.

Raise your voice, take a stand For a young Nigerian, An innocent lost soul whose Only sin was patriotism. In the constitution of men in black uniform, Bribery is the price tag for innocence.

Raise a flag, raise a voice; #EndSARS , #EndPoliceBrutality . We are no more the fools of yesterday, We now demand a #NewNigeria.

Kolade Olawale Kabir Àdèlé

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THE SARS WE FORMED

In a time when crime was at its peak When robbers controlled the commercial city A special squad was formed To dislodge robbers from the street

The aim was soon achieved and height attained Hence, they left their mandate Abandoned their sanctum And began recruiting ignoramus hooligans

These charlatans soon became thorns in our flesh Opposing every light of development Committing atrocious acts of brutality And changing from SARS to that SARS that attacks the lungs.

The use of brute force on the people Left an imprint in their heart The fear of insecurity and arbitrary arrest Left the people crying with such acrimonious voices

End SARS, End Police brutality For harassing and abusing innocent youths Extrajudicial and unlawful killings We cry, End SARS now!

For roadblocks to extort money from the masses Enforced disappearance of civilians, human right abuses Arbitrary arrest, unlawful detention and torture We wail, End SARS now!!

Our youths have been tagged cyber criminals On grounds of owning a Laptop Young entrepreneurship is a taboo, not to be heard For these we plead , End SARS now!!!

Their numerous atrocities, The impunity on which they were wrought Aroused the indignation of the people So, now we pray, End SARS now

Though arms be raised against our peaceful request Yet, our demand shall be undeterred For them that have sank for sake of the struggle May they look beyond to see the crown their blood has brought

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Our desire is one and we stand to say End SARS, End fratricide End Police brutality, assault and battery in Nigeria.

Oranye Chukwubuikem Francis

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END SARS

Leaders' greed breeds bondage It stalls; holds the youths hostage It, with time, emits restlessness And then restiveness.

Like a woman in labour Restlessness begets vigour Steady vigour slacks the chain Which bounds our body and brain

One day, the chain will finally break Then we'll meet our first daybreak Not while our hands are folded We'll push till our needs are heeded

Like ladders, we offer ourselves They climb, holding us like helves With our rights, their tummy sag

Now with our blood, they redesign our flag

The dark hearted men in black. Against us, they've vowed to attack They're supposed to be our friends But they've ended some of our friends

They feed on us just like parasites If we wink, we invite stripes If we don't wink Our dreams continues to sink

Their senders forget so soon

Their promises at the new moon They climb our shoulders to the top Then shut us out and up

Like the steadily stubborn gravity Consistency, we do guarantee We'll keep pushing. We won't run! Until a new nation is born

Victor Chineme Okachi

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NIGERIA: FROM FREEDOM TO FEAR

Nigeria our beloved country, an envy of the nations Once used to be the home for the critics And the passive observers as well Where true democracy was practiced and we all had a voice Has now become a sacramental affair where only those who wield weapons speak.

My brothers and sisters now shiver at the sight Of armed uniform men who are supposed to be protectors Youths now examine themselves severally in the mirror And ask 'shey' I no resemble Yahoo boy Freedom of expression is now no more.

When shall our leaders rise from their slumber The innocent hide in fear while the guilty roam the streets Let us all arise and put an end to the demon that was created Nigeria shall be free for all again But first we must eradicate all enemies of peace #END SARS, END SWAT NOW# #MAKE NIGERIA GREAT AGAIN#

Ofure Ehizogie

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FROM HUMAN TO #ASHTAG!

You are scared! I am Ifoma I am Chijoke, I am dead We are the ones fortunate enough to still have our stories and names heard So our names are shared

Call the ones they sexually abused Ifoma Let us name that river "Chijoke" Where bodies and the water become one Filled without blood A father becomes Moses, dividing the red sea Joseph's body must be taken to the promised land! Names are umbrellas EndSARS is a name

It is more than a Hashtag It is a story! Of the Harsh realities of police brutality Of eighth October and the twentieth of the same month Of deciding to protest and accepting to die Of hitting the government in the nut where it hurts Of SARS mutating to SWAT Of disguised ‗wereys‘ and ‗Soro Soke‘

Of Lekki toll gate and the twist of fate Of switched off lights and the massacre at night Of Execution orders versus the Anthem Of guns versus flags Of green white green materials not being bullet proofs Of denial

Of scapegoats and hide and seek Of finding palliatives after Covid Nineteen Of denial

Of civil revolutionaries and hoodlums Of rescue missions and hijacked movements

Of banning tweets and freedom of speech Of and DJ Switch Of the people becoming the government and celebrities versus the government Of leading the people versus leading them on

Of bad governance and Change

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Of changing the change Of not stopping till things change Of sad endings and new beginnings Of enough is enough and full stops.

What is the use of a name if no one calls it? But you will rather stay silent! Because I am Ifoma, I am Kolade, I am Chijoke I am legion, we are many we are dead We were killed for being ourselves We were just like you but you are alive And still you are scared.

Ugbe Emmanuel Unimniake

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SÒRÒSÓKÈ

We realized, a strike of epiphany lightened on us, that we have swallowed oppression so long like a morsel of eba. For long, we've bit our tongues, swallowed the blood and spit out angelic saliva. We were hurt to the bone but won't sing an howl – have gotten used to the suppression that lives in glass houses, that lives in police coven, whose foot trample on our rights. Our belly is filled to the brim, so we vomit injustice, We chorus like an orchestra in unison against police brutality – a specimen for the ailments bedeviling this land.

Olaewe David Opeyemi

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PLAGUED BY THE ANGER OF HUNGER

(A memorial of the #EndSARS protest in Nigeria)

Let our cries for freedom be spread abroad From nearby valleys to distant mountains Let our anguish for succour be widely heard Like the travails of the woman in pains of labour

We're among the vulnerable written off in history By those who swim in the oil wells of our nation We're the lot dressed in the garb of indolence By those who sleep on beds overlaid with dollars

We are the tale bearers of endless oppression Groaning in pains of interminable convulsion We're the yoke bearers of boundless repression Clutching on the hope of unfulfilled ambitions

We‘ve long been plagued by the anger of hunger And blinded by their tirade of empty promises We've watched our commonwealth badly decimated By the die-hard gluttons upon the seat of power

We are the battered youths of a mad jungle Standing against the antics of crazy leadership We're the voice of the voiceless forsaken citizens Demanding an end to the parasitism of power

We are the hungry victims of state oppression We are the sleepers suddenly out of slumber We are the kith and kin demanding fair portion From the national cake that belongs to all of us

We are the slain sheep of innocent martyrs Whose blood has badly soaked the nation's flag We are the peaceful criers at the Lekki Toll Gate Hacked down by bullets of trigger happy demons

We are the subjects of constant rejection Wallowing in the grip of ceaseless repression We are the down-trodden Nigerian youths Speaking up against governance of deceit.

Sunday Afolayan

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END THE DEMONS CHOKING OUR LIVES

Perhaps grace is a tangible thing only to the one who watches another bleed - Pamilerin Jacob

I memorized these lines to find myself in the web of darkness. They say grace belongs to us, yet to be hounded by SARS. My mouth cannot tell the tales of scars my body is yet to carry.

Tina's mother can tell this well. At twelve, Tina left home with cloud of dreams and returned in sling of blood.

How Chibueke's father unturned the dead in mushy water to find his son makes my body futile. Do you believe in a miracle coming from a fiend?

Halimon, Tiamiyu's mother, she grew a garden of hope and harvested his son's bones. Chima was killed for a sin he did not commit. Sammani was fed with bullets for sagging his trousers. How many more compensations would console Jimoh's father?

Here every thickness of blood drips in the hands of police. And for being a fashionista, you are a fraudster. I sow for myself an embroidery of disguise because my country says i am too young to be an ocean of fortune. Too young not to know the taste of grief. The police say my hair is a dread of crime and my chains are rosary of sins.

We were fed varieties of fear and we mumbled. Now we spit out gallons of anger. For decade, we cultivated silence in our mouth until one day, somehow, we learnt to say End SARS.

Ololade Akinlabi Ige

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WHO PULLED THE TRIGGER? Who pulled the trigger? That tripped the pros At past dust when Ten was flanked by twenty

When the sun was fast asleep And the moon slapped by Cruelty, the cruelty of friends Who rape Shes at past ten

Was it the salaried service men For fear of being Soon seen searching for pension Across the hassle

Can you condemn the horrors of war? Of Hiroshima, apartheid, or the Harbingers of slave trade When free trade cannot exist in your thread

Who fired the shots? That sank deep in the belly of the Pros because they could no longer Stomach bile from the vile

When its words for your blood Or you go in for yahoo because You have not the favour of the flavoured To bribe the ―friends‖ for the locks on you.

Was it the khaki wearing wedgers Eager to oblige the he That spoke of a new Jerusalem From the old area

Why then did he go on exile Because he could no longer Eye bile from the high vile Against the people from near the wild nile.

Who cajoled the cartridge Carrying coterie of the cabal‘s court With confidence that like a kami-kaze They can crush pros without consequences

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Was it the he who sees Through two glass houses And speaks through two Cayenne tongues

Or the cold, cloned, catatonic With crinkly claws Without Clues

Oh! The blood! How your blood! The blood Of the Adams, the Apo Sixs The Jimohs and the Seventy or Eight Pros Slain by friends, no Obata Obies Stain the fabric of our togetherness.

Let those who cover the eyes of technology To carry out their blood orgy Remember that they Cannot.

They cannot switch off the cams Of disc jockeys Nor wrench the eyes of the He Who watches from on high.

Rita Udeme Effiong

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VOICE FIGHT

In their stead we wrote a story of faces denied the future‘s glory In peace we rose a candle light In solidarity did we fight Without machetes and guns But our guts Sweats dripping, feet aching Yet no man for himself did he think Did our unity scare them this much That they brought fist To a voice fight?

This day began with a high rising echo for justice Shouts through the aisles of the streets for just this Security and trust with our voice and chanting To turn-off our noise their call for quiet Came as bullet We asked for a change Not a quench Or did our unity scare them this much That they brought fist To a voice fight?

Through tribe and religion Did they create division Now, with that under our feet as we claim no defeat they come armed to their teeth to shoot us, and shut us, create a new wall between us that death leaves us apart but no we ain't scared and this clinched fist remain raised we ain't armed, we ain't geared, we have guts bring no fist to a voice fight!

Bassey Asuquo

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BATTERED Hear their voices echo like dark dirges, untimely blood spattered on the fabric of our flag.

Their unpardonable sin, a quest to dialogue with dementia lords who sent bullets as responses to their demands to end police brutalities.

They are our fallen heroes, foetus ruptured on the table of abortion They are harbingers bearing the sad tales of a land, tired and hunted by 'demonoids'. They wither like roses trampled under boots of oppression.

Their bodies gather dusts on the table of dishonest panel who refuted claims that bullets cackled in the cover of the night.

They are our constant reminders that the war is just beginning.

Julius Topohozin

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CHEEPING EAGLE

My soul bleeds for muffed hearts And gaged mouths, for uwa and our color For blood stained camos and we, the collateral damage Of a corrupted lineage and their misplaced rage

My eyes tear about mothers, their broken hearts Fathers and their silent cries. Of friends bullets changed forever Of writers that never published. And threads that designed tears. For oke, and his dreams that danced with mad men on rampage

My heart bleeds wine for Zamfara, Kadunna, Borno and Kastina. The north east and a conflict stirred with excess yeast. My hearts bleeds wine, for the land of my birth can no longer stand the innocent blood of her people spilled for ignorance sake.

My heart bleeds for Chijoke, Rinji, Kolade, Jimoh, Precious Odua, Femi Bello. And the hundreds of hellos that will never get a hi. Because a society armed murderers with badges to snatch love stories, great futures in exchange for terror and for them honor

I say a pray for them all that died needless deaths, because they had dreads, iPhones, smiles and because they dared asked for a right to live. And for a presidency that enables and denies this injustice may the devil do God's work on their behalf.

Mark Dave

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TILL OUR VOICES AND HANDS DINE THE ZENITH

From the West to the East, South to the North Our hands, infested with paralysis of division and fear Healed and rose above the tower of Babbel In unison In solidarity Killing ethnocentrism and religious fanaticism The two precarious divisive munitions Our once dumb voices blew heavy winds Of ‗sọrọ soke‘ across the land Even possessing the voices of our fraternals In faraway lands to chant with us

Together, we ‗sọrọ-soked‘ Against savagery by our life‘s protectors Against botched and one-legged lady justice Against maggots eating up the corridors of power

Our emperors sacrificed our brothers and sisters On the altar of their bloodthirsty goddess Of greed, unaccountability, insincerity, power-drunkenness At the Toll Gate of Eko kingdom And feeding the international community With lies and deceits of the unreality of this massacre All to seize the breathe of our voices And maim our hands from ‗sọrọ-soking‘

But our voices will not gasp for air Nor will our hands wither Together, we shall chant Sọrọ soke! Sọrọ soke! Sọrọ soke! Till our voices and hands dine with the zenith

Chinedu Vincent Okoro

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THE NIGERIAN 9/11

The sky was tinged with indigo hues, The colour of dusk The dying sun giving off its last rays, cast a reddish-orange glow thus Creating a muted halo over our heads

As the evening breeze caressed my bare arms and licked through my hair, It also carried up a potpourri of odours oozing from our sweaty bodies pressed against one another What a time to be alive , or so we thought as our voices clarioned the words End SARS.

Vibrating with youthful energy and brandishing our only ammunition, the Nigerian flag, We moved synchronously in a peaceful demonstration against their excesses Then all of a sudden, everything went dark as every streetlight was winked out.

Undeterred as we were, we marched on holding up our torches and chanting our rhythm, Then we saw them. Standing in front of us were men in camouflage. The colours of those who vowed to protect us

Unaware of any foul play, we stomped harder, waved higher and chanted even louder The time for revolution had finally come and we were completely stoked, That is, until we heard the first spray of bullets Bullets from the guns meant to guard us.

As the smell of gunpowder rose and hung in the air like a fog, The crowd dispersed like a great river running into its distributaries This was their great master plan A ploy to crush our spirits

We will forever remember 11/10/2020 with a metallic taste in our mouths; The taste of blood , The day the protector became the predator, The day young lives were brutally extinguished.

Uzodimma Deborah Chimdimma

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GREETINGS i am tired of this place where blood flows endlessly like a stream where living bodies rapture into living corpses overnight, by the red irons of the black force, for pronouncing their pains in pain. i am tired of this place where you must never say no this place, where the policemen decide who lives and who leaves in this place, getting this far this year is a miracle so greetings to the seeds of this land who before now have been unyielding suddenly have grown into giant trees delivering fruits that are ripe for harvest like a mighty flood, gushed they out, seeking a goal greetings to them which on bare tars lay at nights defying their tingling beds--their enemy since ages to them which left their lives in the open, greetings fighting to be free to live in their land greetings to those who have lost theirs withdrawing to the clouds, with honour and pride greetings to every soul who said no greetings to them who talked to talk no more.

Seyi Omotoso

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JOURNEY TO HOPE

There has never been a darker night like on the day of Lekki massacre where brutality trampled on human right and tyranny left a terrible scar

It was a harvest of souls many men were martyred our eyes left their sockets while our hearts were shattered

While the sky swallowed the stars gunshots overshadowed their screams and as their blood soaked mother earth so were we woefully led to the truth

Our tears fell quicker to the ground than our bewildered jaws yet if silence was a sound it would have broken our eardrums

It took two days for morning to come we slept awake recounting our losses see what Nigeria has become a threat to democracy and lives

We still have the leftovers of EndSARS on our lips like 20:10:20 inscribed in our memories an eternal mark of our leaders' failure

To where do we run to? Who will come to our rescue? When will our voices be heard? Why must we remain so sad?

But out of the storm comes a rainbow like the sweet sound of hope in a credo though we are a broken ship inside we must learn to ride on the tide.

Agada Patience Anthony

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END SARS Our arsenals could not represent, And disguised enemies as friends would present, Their slogan which is a lie, For them live and properties should die, While their wickedness kissed the dye, They sought for innocent youths to tie.

The law became crusty, And the land adversely kissed rusty, Corruption has burrowed into the best, And escalated into a projection of the worst, While fear and insecurity swallowed rest.

The streets were littered with fear of the known, As their motives were unknown, Aren't these people our own, And why do they dance to this wicked tone, Forgetting the presence of a divine drone.

To look good became a crime, And possession of good cars a taboo, Iphones and laptops became associated with yahoo, Dreadlocks and foreign hairstyles too.

Shooting and maltreatments became their thing, And they derived joy from inflicting pain, Could any other thing be their gain, If not collecting bribes and intimidating youths again.

Sanity had to shake hands with decadence, As questions popped-up against their essence, Everybody was high and yelled together, Strength and unity held us together, As we hoped for hope in our hopelessness.

In the quest for freedom, We lost people of goodwill and wisdom, That had their names on the sand of time, And on the green side of our memories, They are gone, But they would live forever, And the smell of their sweat as sweet as thyme.

Umeorah Johnbosco

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THE TOLL GATE OF DEATH

Like human angels we were Armed with melodies of hope we chant: One nation bound in freedom, peace and unity A nation where peace and justice reign

As these melodies of hope flow' from our mouth like a mighty stream We raise' our national trademark of green and white like a beacon But with our mouths open' and the national trademark in the air We heard deafening thunder of rifles

Drunk of patriotism , we stood our ground Forward we even march'd as the sound of the rifles increased Alas! They pointed at us Our fellow compatriots in uniform pointed at us and killed us

O yes! Our fellow compatriots killed us They tried to silence us They spilled our blood at the toll gate They happily sent us to eternal exile

In our invisible land of exile On the walls of the strange world we wrote We wrote with weak, cold hands: Brothers killed brothers at a toll gate, the toll gate of death

Obiwuru Chidera Rex

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END SARS

Dreads a criminal Torn jeans, a thief Tattoos a fraudster Chains and rings a ritualist The stereotypes that formed SARS

'Youth shouldn‘t be rich.‘ You can‘t afford a full apple; how did you get the iPhone? Even Christ walked, why are you driving a Benz? It‘s a sin to look fashionable Aren‘t kids supposed to look wretched? The thoughts of a SARS officer.

Beat him Call him a criminal Profile him wrongly; extort him accordingly It‘s your duty and obligation; to frame innocent men; how dare he look good? Break his rights, and tell him to pay for it May he never refuse; if he does Shoot him in the leg; frame him up for murder Or better still kill him After all, the wages of looking nice is death Those are the objectives of SARS.

‗Korope‘ their chariot; scorpion their insignia They spread the SARS virus of fear in the minds of young men A contagion of our societal dysfunction A belch from the meal that was corruption A big 'Thank you‘ to the ‗status quo‘ that created this aberration Words formed in the chambers of evil where the youths were judged for being too innovative 'How dare they?‘ Those words Armed SARS.

They built a big tower; from the skulls of the thousand young men they killed Weaving their blood into the conduits that funneled their ill-gotten wealth Tears from victims‘ relatives give them a hard-on Motivates their rifles, squeeze the triggers, and fires the bullets The shrieking of victims gives them an orgasm They became giants, gulping everything in its path Sparing a share for the leaders who cheered them on A vicious circle The food web of the Special Anti-Robbery Squad (SARS).

Ajayi Tolulope Olusegun

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INQUEST FOR FREEDOM!.

At the beak of the morn, Lies the inquest for freedom Where heroes decided to proclaim their fates And protest against their patriotism.

Out they went, through corrugated roads Into the field of destiny, With their fists clenched for a fight, Their heart turned against home As they headed to a known-unknown destination.

An inquest for freedom it was, That made Heroes rise up; Their peaceful hands and humble voices That was beautifully arranged according to the pains Buried in their voices to sing out, A proclamation of their rights:

All they needed was Freedom— Freedom from police brutality In their fatherland.

If they had known That their humble protest will turn to an abuse, An abrasive abuse to themselves, They would have bade a final goodbye To their loved ones. Humble- peaceful heroes and ‗sheroes‘ Began to visit the mother earth Untimely and unexpectedly; They were drenched by the rains of bullets, Yes the wicked attacking bullets.

In the cool eve of history Some fell and died; Others took to their heels While some still raised up their voices High, higher and higher To scream with their red eyes, And heads filled with tears of agony And also coupled with perplexity and astonishment As they ask; These bullets are supposed to protect us, Why then are they coming against us?

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Even in the thundering of their cries, Their voices were not heard Hence, they have cried in vain Nevertheless: The heart of our king is in the hands of the creator We pray to God the Father to give us victory Oh! Forever will my heart mourn at the demise of the fallen heroes.

Blessing Chinenye David

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HOMELAND IN PAIN

Tribute for victims of police brutalities Let us remember Those souls terminated by bullets The souls of Lekki massacre. Those youths holding placards With the inscription EndSARS Whose body was riddled with bullets.

To men and women hacked to death for not greasing their palms with crispy notes. To writers imprisoned For speaking truth to power. To patriots wallowing in urine and faeces Infested prisons and cells. To all freedom fighters and activists whose back bears the mark of poisonous whips

Let your blood become our ink Let the ink writes your name on the marbles of gold let poetry preserve your story in the sands of time.

Enyia Lilian Nkechinyere

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END SARS

Indeed, the land is bleeding, Parent and youths are weeping, Due to the killings of their loved ones, Which their only crime was carrying expensive phones, Oh! What a nation!! Security personnel who batter an individual without proper investigation, Indeed, you have placed most families in boredom, That is the more reason we all demand freedom, Yes, we are fighting for a true cause, For, the government and security agencies have failed us.

Over police brutality and assault, we will speak louder, Until we see a better Nigeria, we will remain stronger, My eyes grow weak with sorrow, Over the killings and even, the money they borrow, Indeed, our dauntless heroes left a stain, And their deaths will not be in vain, My heart bleeds as I write this threnody, Nevertheless, I believe it's a surge for a pleasant melody, Despite, the brutalities and agony, Nigeria is about to be reborn in peace and harmony, We shall all live to see a "New Nigeria" God bless Nigeria.

David Jonathan Inyang

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