KOKSNATION

THE CARTEL IN OUR POLITICAL SYSTEM

We are in charge, we make the decisions and our decision is final, the consequences can’t be on us, all these and many more are the actual cruel words of the CARTEL.  

Nigeria's political system is dominated by cartel; men of the underworld, thinking of themselves only and fighting for relevance and power. Not minding the plight of the common man, the battles is not in who understands the worries of the citizens but between set of persons that wants to grab power by all means necessary, part of which includes a power tussle and revenge game. 

But my major concern is on the citizens of this country and where we got it all wrong, why must we allow same set of people direct our future in the name of governance?

Election is by the corner and of course, it's the season of the cartel who are everywhere unleashing promises and manifestos that can/will never be fulfilled. A mantra we're used to but can do nothing about it. Concurrently, Nigerians fail to understand not because we prefer to be duped but because we fail to understand the power of our decision. 

This is also a case which reflects on our religion leading to religious division, emanating from diverse ideas in our way of worship and belief. Nigeria is becoming very different and worrisome.

It is worthy of note that sometimes these cartels work together irrespective of their religion because they have a common goal: POWER. We are only remembered by this powerful set of persons during elections. A recurrence which, if, we don't put a stop to,  will continue for generations to come. But I know just one thing the cartel is afraid of “Our DECISION and ONENESS”. 

We must work to push away sentiments and strive for progress if we must grow as a nation. At this point I urge you to vote wisely and vote for progress we cannot continue to suffer in the hands of the familiar faces and cartels, in togetherness, let's eliminate them familiar faces who care less about us and let's get it right this time. 

The time is NOW!

VOTE not Fight!  

Don't sell your right by selling your VOTE! 

Hope you are inspired?



As written by: Williams N.  Raymond

Computer scientist, System and sound engineer,  motivational speaker. 

Meet Raymond on 

Facebook: Raymond Williams

Twitter: @williamsraymon2

Instagram: Raymond Williams

Tags: Politics,  Social media,  Prose

Follow us on twitter @koksnationn

*YOU ARE WRONG*

*YOU ARE WRONG*

It's exactly three in the morning
When I heard the sound of the beagle
Little did I know that 30 minutes later;
I'd hear the sound of the whistle.
As I lay down to readjust myself,
I heard a loud voice in the room saying
If you're still sleeping, you are wrong.

Thus making it our daily song
As our body have failed to dance to the rhythm and blues
Yet our tired self remain humbled.
My heart raced out of me
As my legs didn't fail to follow
It was ten past five in the morning 

Damn!!! 

I've been betrayed by my wrist watch
I had a short night
After a long period of parade, 

drama and dance the other night
The lecture wasn't boring but was long enough to kill the fun at the mami market
As many made ready to grab every opportunity to hug their beds
To the parade ground the soldiers echoes
Left-right, cos our foot have been programmed to follow
If not, you are wrong!

What do we do that is actually not wrong?
They'll say, just follow our instructions.

The oversized boots and the extra-large uniforms have made us 

look like we were never born for the military attention.
I have size eight but I need size five,
So I cannot give you my size seven,
Because I need size eleven,
This have been the statement routine at every platoon.
Everyone has suddenly become a star boy ambassador, 

without an endorsement,
They've associated themselves with a known figure.

The long queue at the kitchen, bathroom and hall 

Is enough to make an Iroko tree fall
Cos if you're not on the queue, then you are wrong!

And we are all sent out to different destination 

with different directions, 

The local government secretariat has become what we know, 

to the interior places we find ourselves

but we're not inferior.

Camp have United us together
In oneness, NYSC has excel above others
One memory will remain with me and you,
And that is the beagle that never ceases to sound
To greet Nigeria good morning
As we all stand still to greet her good night.

Thus, the answer to the clarion call!

Composed by - Facebook: Popoola Yusuf Olatunji Bravo

                         Instagram: @Tunji Bravo

Tags: Nysc, Education

Follow us on twitter @koksnationn

Twas like the harmony of a well orchestrated symphony. As we rode along this boisterous road, the squeaking sounds of the wheels vanished away in dust;
Lost in a mist                                              

Of throbbing emotions, I kept on       

Smiling At the thought of what   

Gladdens my Heart each day...

That a stare into the future would have Saved us all, 

for the maledy of circumstances plays no strings of melody and lo I hear evils voice whispering; 

as we journey along this amiss path of perfect impurities...
For these screams hither here              

And thither there led to a place time has left desolate, 

a meddle of feeble worlds they all fret at 

of which I am most guilty of these fretters, 

lest this scare may not be our end... 

Twas a debacle of dysphoria, craving our little abode to cast off our fears in alcoves of peace;  

for this meagre air must be felt without share; 

with much Bruises all over our face, we journeyed home to tell daunting tales; 

touch not these purples on my lip I say! 

For it hurts most. 

Twas an unforgettable encounter none to be prayed for - and I survived!

By Poet Esperanza Obene Ibim

Tags: Poem, Education, African Poetry 

Follow us on twitter @koksnationn

We are a race that have sold

our norms to the ashes of greed

and to the folly of white silver;

how we used to live before 

the white man came with swords

of hate to call our brother a foe 

did we eat in bowls of love; my

Heart is heavy that we dine with 

strangers we call amie and wear

Insanity as apparels of royalty 

sitting on thrones of sin as we 

barter our blood in cruel exchange 

of an unholy alliance; for like larks 

we sing in the dark with ornaments 

of Ignorance;until we are redeemed

from this eerie past I will always

remember your smile O! Africa 

My land;we have lived for seasons

as tales of our past might are

told with gullible intent so we did

wash away this pristine riches of

fat to eat horrible wheats of 

pestilence; where is our might

O! Africa we sit beneath nature's

wealth yet we bask in the wilder-

ness of wretchedness we are truly 

far off our home as we may owe 

it to certain defects of civility.

We have grazed our lands in 

search of something worthless

As we wail at the gains of a

white man's witchcraft lest

should we reminisce our pristine

past for these beats makes us

A race that once ate from the 

bowls of love amidst turmoil

Hear Me O! Beauty that tales of

us shall be told with Pride as I 

will always call to mind the pure

Thwine that binded us for aeons

Yes! For free men and slaves shall 

tell of our freedom, of our strength 

And of our curse; for although the 

nights are darker in Africa we await

sunny storms of joy but until then I

will always remember your smile Africa!

 

 

A piece by Esperanza Obene Ibim

 

Facebook: facebook.com/Esperanza-Obene-Ibim

#Coliseum


I sat next to fright in
In a coliseum as tears
drips off my eyes so
she abandons little

suckling for greener pastures
in the wilderness beyond the
Mysterious beyond ;lost in the
legend of sorrow little suckling

was thrown in the state of oblivion
cast away to the abyss ahead of
our generation; the bitter and
cruel heart of breathing species

A stone heart a grammarian
May pun to qualify such madness
by mortals Unto mortals photons
of rays splashes on sucklings

imagery as blue moments played
through his mind giving occupance
in the span of this frail being; he grew
to maturity as opulence became

part of his identity I sat at my post as
a spectator watching this theatrical
spectacle as it unravels in my very
before; words passed with some

grain of salt like urea dripping
off my epidermis commanding
the cotton on my palm to do
it's dignified duty;

O! Poor lady for knocking the
cognizance of blunders past
Made I to decipher - yes! grok
the true nature of motherhood

Alas! Tis the mark of the red-ink
yet again, the black aqua that
runs through us emanating
slavery in our modern era.

Warn that stream

Bent on flowing to the desert

That the desert only takes

It never gives

Let the stream beware

Warn that cow

Bent on going to the abattoir

That the abattoir only takes

It never gives

Let the cow beware

Warn that wood

Bent on confronting the fire

That the fire only takes

It never gives

Let the wood beware.

From an African prose sanctioning traditional warning.

anonymous

 

A while ago, my dad met a stranger who was new to our small town. From the beginning, dad was fascinated with this enchanting newcomer and soon invited him to live with our family. The stranger was quickly accepted and was around from then on.

As I grew up, I never questioned his place in my family.In my young mind, he had a special niche. My parents were complementary instructors. Mom taught me to obey. But the stranger ... he was our story teller. He would keep us spell-bound for hours on end with adventures, mysteries and comedies.

If I wanted to know anything about politics, history or science, he always knew the answers about the past, understood the present and even seemed able to predict the Future.
He took my family to the first major league ball game. He made me laugh and he made me cry. The stranger never stopped talking but dad didn't seem to mind.

Sometimes, Mom would get up quickly while the rest of us were shushing each other to listen to what he had  to say, and she would go to the kitchen for peace and quiet. [I wonder is she ever prayed for the stranger to leave.]

Dad ruled our household with certain moral convictions but the stranger never felt obligated to honour them. Profanity, for example, was not allowed in our home.
Not from us, our friends or any visitor. Our longtime visitor, however, got away with four-letter words that burned my ears and made my dad squirm and my mother blush. My dad don't permit the liberal use of alcohol but the stranger encourages us to try it on a regular basis. He made cigarettes look cool, cigars, mainly and pipes distinguished.

He talked freely [much too freely] about sex. His comments were sometimes blatant, sometimes suggestive and generally embarrassing. I now know that early concepts about relationships were influenced strongly by the stranger. Time after time, he opposed the values of my parents, yet he was seldom rebuked....and NEVER asked to leave.

More than fifty years have passed since the stranger moved into our family, he has blended right in and is not nearly as fascinating as he was at first. Still, if you could walk into my parents' den today, you would still find him sitting over the corner, waiting for someone to listen to him talk and watch him draw his pictures.

Categorically, he destroyed all the moral values, ethics, love, time for each other and other good qualities we had in our family...whilst adding some unnoticeable quality of positive stuff also, which any way we would have been even without him.

His name?.......


T.V
He is now married with three wives:
The first is Computer
The second is Internet
The third is Cell Phone



This is the major leading factor of child's distraction. Keep away from children or curtail the rate at which they use it.

Giant feathers touched my graceful
face in a drowsy delusion of darkness;
Henceforth it broke my forty winks
with the utmost dread of danger.

Luckily it is an Angel of the
brightest light; like scales of onions
I flipped open the clouds of pages
till I met the finished heavens.

Flames with sumptuous taste,well placed insignia of various look can I call a Name;glows of distinct sparkle
have I ever seen from my post

obedience and loyalty of the
apex grade is the crux over heaven
ye mercy was what earth appears to
be; For the fluff of Angels flaunts

it's hove on earths panting Masses.
Fiery Gold was the appearance
of the Holies; crystal righteous
stones were what it wore

the apparel of the most
gorgeous architecture twee was the
glimpse of the seventh Heaven;
and only Angels have wings.

Excerpt from (Silent Whispers)

FACEBOOK: Facebook.com/Esperanza-Ibim-Obene

 

#AGE

Like a candle I have been
lit up for years; times and
seasons did pass away with
ease that I shall kneel on

my knees to implore heavens
pleas; For in light did I walk
through and in Darkness did
I sleep in yet I fear this

candle is long lit up
when I see my very end.
So did my strength grew
soft in time; so have I

lingered since nine and
this world has thought me
overtime; Now I am Gray
is not folly For those who

know it's a necessity.
Age is but bitter and
sweet lest it's spike
shan't hit you hither tither

It's a must I seek refuge
in the shores of joy; I am
weak and ail but my
heart races in vigor

approaching it's end.
Is it the dryness of my
skin that scares away
this little ones.Age is

death for its against nature.
Come! look closely for what
you see are not wrinkles
but contours of Experience;

Come sit close by that I
shall pass you a gray for
legacy; Come yet again
you little fellow winter

will froze and summer
will melt and this
candle will quench
come a rainy night.

About Writer:

Ranza is a graduate of Computer Science who has the flare for writing, his choice of words and vocabulary is complementary to his writing skill.

Facebook: Facebook.com/Esperanza-Obene-Ibim

Her face struck with Angers hand
That she blushes here and there
She cries high and low but
There was no one to her rescue

Twas years ago that these vows
Were made that he shall swim in
The deluge of her hearts waters
But her face he struck with Angers Hand

He screams and shouts like she wasn’t
the girl of his dreams; she cleans and cooks
his meals; and she shall warm his bed at night
Yet her face he struck with angers Hand

He wore her a mighty robe of a ring that
She shall bear him children; its her
duty for she is a wife and a mother
but her face did he strike with angers hand

Intelligence is her name as industriousness
her aura; she dresses elegantly for she is
adorable; that his peers may sing of his manliness
Yet he struck her face with angers hand

He who professes never to slam her chubby
Cheek; while he screams in delight at Night
for darkness has slowly covered his roof.
But he struck her face with angers hand

Her tongue she bridles imperfectly
that his heart might be won again; her
night she soaks in the waters of tears praying
that  angers hand leaves her pretty face to rest.

                                                         

IBIM OBENE BIOKPO a.k.a 'ESPERANZA' is a graduate of Computer Science who has the flare and is talented to write poems and other piece. His knowledge and use of words is an advantage to his person. 

Facebook: facebook.com/Esperanza-obene-Ibim