Stories of the Drone Children

Beats and bombs lament this world

In depths of pain

encrusted with insignia of war

children born lacking innocence

Believe me,

pain and despair, all for new souls

nothing left but depths of pain

encrusted to this bible called the internet

..

We, children always born without hope

Just hopeless, believe me

Like worms in belly

unknown to me

This war you bring tears me up

gun shells leaving my wells dry

Gradually, slowly

until starvation and famine

finally eats me up

Another child of the drone

lost to the silence of a dying world.

In Case You Forgot

The makings of a supreme

Equals extreme conditioning

Empowered and confident

Black boy

Like a tug of war

Your face, snatched

Your pain, drank

Your death, sang

Your glow, rinsed

Extreme resilience, I must say

Micro waved out from the gutters

Envisioned

Predicted,

like the messiah

You are the clock

that keeps all ticking

You are the currency

that pulsates the market

From the turn of the southern belt

To the western lagoon of Lasgidi

You are the sun

From you, life exists

Homecoming

I think about you from time to time

Every part of you

The corners, crescents

The way your eyes shines when the evening settles

Red earth: your body when the afternoon dust rests

I think about you when I’m alone

You must know

I still smell

you

Real memories now turned into star pointing

Gazing when the night is dark and the moon just bright right

Home Waiting

All the love

In wraps of evening sun

Birds feathers falling,

calling night

Night town criers

Boys racing girls over moon lit hills

Kisses between eclipses

Light paintings, ration licenses

 

Home, home

Barnawa town

Home, home

Where I used to lay

Home, home

Crouched between snow, now

Home, home

Can I taste you?

Home, home

Further I go

Picture perfect, tainted

Reaching further back into lenses

Home, home

Draw close,

please

My hands reaching out

Home, home

Your vision only a memory now

Old Soldier, New War

During the times that have come by, I pray for war to come. Not these new modern warfare. The old kind. Those ones stationed between battle noise and mud trenches. The zipping sounds of mortars, as empty bullet shells illuminate the blood heavy war terrain. Soldier boots marching through old places that were once called new homes.

Yes, I pray night and day. Night and day! Yes, for at night sleep refuses me and tosses me in between my past memories and a future I remain nameless.

………………………………..

These drones are empty vessels. They are transporters of bad news and death. For our souls do hunger for a reason to accept sleep, but no! Not these ones. These silent birds made with fiber like materials only look down, fall flat, and never return up.

Like thin dots silently scattered.

Only if your hands be wide as the oceans floors and you bring them together then one might see how much these dots have cost us.

…………………………………

I grow sick by the hour. Every hour eaten in silence. Every chance taken just to remain still. I grow deeper into my own anger. Madness beckons daringly close ….and I fear I will welcome it back home.

Commander Bull. ENTRY #204881

Battlefront Shagari Sector, Year 2098

Barnawa Crescent

Lowcost houses
Zincs and ceilings
Nepa and light rations
Child dreams and nursery habits
Picking nose and run arounds
Girl chasing, innocence slowly dancing
Yes, a doctor
Yes, an engineer
Yes, when I grow up
All of that I want

Like yesterday, I remember
A tee, shorts and some slippers
Up high in the tree
Mango chewing, juice stains
Eyes wide, round like the world
Always staring, drifting with the savanna
Filling heart with wavy thoughts
Stop! There!! I see her!!!
In front of the sunset
Mama coming back from work
Handbag and goodies, cross checked
Race with full strength,
Up the hill, I go
Welcome, welcome home
Strong arms gracing growing bones
Her scent carrying the Nile’s warmth
Walking back
Feeling proud
A young King with my Iye’s guidance
Yes, I remember that
Supreme Ice cream, and
Suya if her day went well

Back home
Rumbling through Santana bags
Full of fruits and sugary things
Close behind, there he is
Back and forth
Pranks and chuckles
Best friends, both up to no good

Who Knew?
Just innocence draining
Childhood filling: Stories
Yes, I remember
Yes, a doctor
Yes, an engineer
Yes, when we grow up
All of that we want