Diz Poetry      by Babjide Michael Olusegun  (Nigeria)

Diz Poetry go come in many many styles

Since Diz Poetry dey com Uganda

Diz Poetry godey dub reggae reggae free

But Diz Poetry don dey use hin beat

Diz Poetry gat many manytinz to say

So Diz Poetry know know which one to say

Diz Poetry fit no make much sense

For Diz Poetry no come to impress

Diz Poetry fit look- within- personal

But Diz Poetry may dey –without- political best site.

Diz Poetry will be so long in longitude

For Diz Poetry will be very versed in latitude

Diz Poetry will burst into rhythmic tears

For Diz Poetry was writt’n with wilderness’s words

Diz Poetry is speaking from Africa

As Boko Haram blows up North-East Nigeria

Diz Poetry won’t call on Cupid

For Diz Poetry is lonely not blind and stupid

Diz Poetry is not from “Dis Poetry”

Diz Poetry is only like “Dis Poetry”.

Diz Poetry 4 lov use Gangan’s mouth

Diz Poetry sef 4 lovdanz with Sekere’sileke

Diz Poetry 4 talk of libarti

But Diz Poetry sef don enta captivity

Diz Poetry won halasom poets

Since Diz Poetry owe demobonge respect.

As I hala: Maya- Angelou- Zephaniah- Neruda, Rudyard. NiyiOsundare-

And Johnson in d States plus Okotp’Bitek for izSong of LawinowitJumokeVerissimo.

May I sharpali say: Una go watch Diz Poetry like say na Play on Words

Cos Diz Poetry dey flow wit watery meanings in stanzas of 4 by 10.

You may wanna ask

What Diz Poetry is all about

Or is Diz Poetry simply all about nothing?

Never mind, Diz Poetry has no answers to these

For Diz Poetry gonna slip through my heart to thee

Diz Poetry might make you laugh

And you may wanna push Diz Poetry aside

But Diz Poetry’s two and three

May make you wanna give it a chance

Cos Diz Poetry is simply free, M.A.D and booing your mind.

A Poem We Would Rather Forget  by Sanya Noel (Kenya)

 thirty one years after the Wagalla Massacre

This is what you remember                 the butt of a gun landing to your mouth

and then the muzzle pushed

way down your throat

and all you could pray for

was for them to pull the trigger.

This is what happened                                    they came for you in lorries

and you were innocent enough to think

that a Kenyan citizenship

would shield you from harm.

This is what followed                         they asked for your clan

but how could you tell that

saying you were of the Degodia Clan

was signing your own death warrant?

These are the memories                       naked bellies on the asphalt

and boots with guns

stepping on their heads and necks.

These are the memories                       gunshots ringing

and truncheons landing on chests

and the cracking of sternums

and the giving in of skulls.

These are the memories                       every sternum broken, was your sternum broken

every skull smashed in, was your skull smashed in

and every thud of a truncheon, was a thud to your soul.

This was your decision                        you were going to die anyway

but the fear in you

couldn’t let you die just lying on the ground.

This was your luck                              the terror made you run so fast

even the bullets couldn’t catch up with you.

This is your regret                               you wish you had died too

so you would be relieved of memories

of cracking sternums and skulls smashed in

of unheeded cries for mercy, and prayers to God.

This is what you wish for                    a chance to forget

that on this day, thirty one years ago

five thousand people were executed

by their own country.

These are your questions                     Do the dead move on?

Did the ground ever quench

its thirst for Somali blood?