What do you see when you sleep? Is it a dream or a vision? Does he bear fangs and talons Scratching and biting you in sacred places Savouring the sweetness of virgin blood? Does he carry clay in his palms Fixing you in all the places you broke Soothing your fears with mystical melodies Lulling you back to your skin? When you return Do you arrive panting out of breath Frantically searching for shadows in the dark Holding your heart in your fingers Wondering if this is the last time You might get to feel their warmth? Does he leave you eyes glazed, lips trembling Shivering from the ecstasy of another life Finding it's purpose through your womb Basking in the beauty of its new home? This lethargy that you carry around Resembles the aura of a human matrix Nurturing the bones of a demigod Should I tell you the story of Danae Or we just agree that Mars too is a myth?

©JL Maikaho

Daily, Monsters prowl our streets,
Heaven on their lips, hell in their souls Inciting terror in our hearts yet, Wearing the cassocks of peace. Abductions and molestation lining their path Intertwined with guns, hate speeches and blood Careless posts on social media Pushing us from pan to fire, Deafening cries of men and women Screaming for help.

Instead, Our eyes dwell on the North and South fighting And the once tranquil west now joining in the Pandemonium, wreaking havoc In a country where nobody is safe. Unable to tell our stories Yet able to shine the spotlight on those Erroneously labelled 'outsiders'

'They don't like us either' 'They killed my brother in their village So I will kill their kinsman in my state!' 'They started it!' 'They deserved it!'

And so the blood feud continues, Fuelled by deceit shrouded in truth. The fiery shackles of fake news and half-truths Holding our people captives, Circulating filthy lies signed in God's holy name, Inciting more violence while pretending to solve the problem.

Do you not know, No nation can rise by burying its weak and poor, No country can grow by ignoring the plight of its people
Labelled minorities and refugees in their own country. Indeed, A cancer in one cell will engulf the whole system if left unchecked.

Who can challenge the cycle of woes strangling our country? Who dares to open her lips and sing of serenity? Who is he that'll take the courage to break these chains, And lead Nigeria to a new life of justice, integrity and transparency; Where every citizen gets a taste of what independence truly means?

Tune in to this channel and let me tell you a story: A new tide is rising, powerful and determined Tongues sharpened by pain and language, Drunk with the elixir in which creativity and activism meet.

This is the voice of the new Nigeria, Rising from within the bellows of its creatives. Every note and melody, every line and stanza, Every splash of colour from the painter's brush, Every script, every headline, every stroke of the sculptor's knife; Joining their voices to challenge the single stories That have marred the beauty in our diversity. Giving a voice to the humanity Stubbornly fighting inspite of the odds.

Like a stone thrown into a pond, Ripples of patriotism are echoed from Chibok to Owo, Dapchi to Nnewi and Daura and Warri; Young and old ignited by fresh perspectives, Refusing to remain silent, Breaking free with chants of liberty, liberty for all! Re-learning national identity, Questioning every rumour, Analysing every evidence, Investigating every tale, Crushing the rock of propaganda With the hammer of right information Streaming from our creatives - Innovative, brilliant stars, Leading us all to a nation we can truly be proud of.

Thank you.

Born at sunset, I am a child weaned from fallen breast before time. Son of a fertile ground But fed with thorns and thistles.

I can only watch the spoilers – They glut and yawn and leak their oily fingers. A seed, but I am taken to the mill; Flour for bread, a means to an end.

I am the child with the guns, A pawn on this chessboard of terror. A thorn in the flesh of many: I am horror – a harvest of many errors.

The spoilers ate sour grapes And my teeth is at edge. Brought to sunset before dawn, I am a child, a bandit, and a victim.

J. D. Jwang (The Child that Found Mercy)