This guy is just literally talented...

An interesting poem by Neyoor...
With the custodian of my soul I lay
Flat down with my body in doom
When every iota of life in me vanished
Like a log of wood I appear lifeless

The quest to take my life kicked off
With a golden slumber it started
Tormenting my helpless spirit
My embodiments were imprisoned
My sense organs were deafened
Even to a pinch, I fails to respond
Not even to the melody in my environment
In lurch, I looks like a drunk man
Willingly I succumb to the nature
Breathing constantly yet, unaware
When the entity in me loses its' grip
To the cold angel of night death
After several hours full of unknown scenarios
The creator untied my spirit
My glued eye opens ajar
My consciousness, finally I regain
My dead body was restored
Without losing any amount of energy
Nor a drop of blood from my can
Thankful, I woke up safely
‪#‎Neyoor‬#

BURIED PEACE by Mr.Ali Toyin Abdul

With the dreadly hatmen in the middle temple

carting away unsung skulls
for reasons unknown to sister earth.
With the lone mothers in their forties
panicking about the soaked streets
in search of their beloved breadwinners
With the foetus in its shrouded sac
choked by the fragrance of anguish
Permeating the whole neighbourhood.
With the moanful birds
In their ageless numbers
chirpping off the nights
in lone voice, stunted will
invoking the spirit of their motherly ancestors.
With the wheezing mosquitoes by the natives' joint
cackling melodies of distasteful rhymes
that secrete emotions to the bone marrow.
Of our grandpas' tomb stones
lying side by side the grave pits of their progenies
who doggedly lost the fights
to the bloody hands of their unapologetic captors.
Of our robust virgin maids
stripped off before their lustful suitors
leaving them to wallow in battered flesh.
And the quake by the plateaux
fast swallowing our farmland,
shredding bamboo sticks off the aging huts
and weighing down our muddy castles
into assembly of rubrics.
Wither the sweet-tongued magic men
who blur our eyes with logs
while savouring our dead fathers' wine
"We shall castrate them in seconds"
they swore unto high heaven
as thousands catwalk into eternal glory
have the gods forsaken us again?
‪#‎AliToyinAbdul‬#Lawstudent#journalist#writer#photographer#DirectorCCN#poet#Inspirationalspeaker

by : Al mubajjal

Oh NIGERIA my fatherland,
Why has thee chosen to become a SUFFERland?
weaved in the niche of a CRIMEland.
In this theatre of sinister,
Orchestrated by fleet of DISASTER,
HOPELESS evident in the face of the onlooker.
Cosmetic approach you give EDUCATION,
Alas you're on the verge of destruction,
Behold all hope not yet in extinction.
Indeed nearing is thy Rejuvenation.
Garment of CORRUPTION thee chose to relish
DOLLARS for the HOPELESS you languish,
Tread carefully for thy may perish.
I ask thee of CRIME wave,
plethora of which thy enclave,
Caution! way you should pave,
Way for Justice that which thee enslave.
DEVELOPMENT eludes thee
Rice risen against thee
PETROLEUM for all flee
Economic PROGRESS thee but glee
...⚡M.B ALMUBAJAL'S pulsating pen...

by NEYOOR

My country Ngeria
Where we live in prediction
With no iota of solution
Even after a long calculation
The answer is still commotion
Numerous affliction
Numerous frustration

Good reputation
Finally the election is won
But we forget to pray for protection
And now a prey of corruption
Should I call it election?
Since the law is a collection
Made by the few selection
That knows nothing but funds consumption
And life digestion
They fail their examination because of blind revision
Those days fornication is nowadays education
Where is the defection that is wearing the infection?
I'm tired of all this personification
I demand a positive change for our Nation. ‪#‎neyoor‬

 by: Dr.Ahmed abdulkareem,,who I simply call "d medical poet"

Oh! Nigeria my dear country.
Oh! NIGERIA my dear country
how blessed you are, a lot wondered
PETROLEUM, amidst other natural resources
for the use of your brethren, supposedly
instead, they SUFFER amidst abundance
like a patient with diabetes
Oh! Nigeria, my dear country.

Your citizens as poor as a church rat
what an irony it is?
HOPELESS, there situation is
HELPLESS, they are
pathetic, I must say
my heart bleeds in pity
Oh! Nigeria my dear country
CORRUPTION has become pansystemic
plagued every sphere of your life
wealth in the hand of a few minority
while many of your citizens remain HOMELESS
a radical intervention I recommend.
Oh! Nigeria my dear country
~ahmedcine

PUN

DEMOCRACY, NIGERIA, SUFFER, HOMELESS, HOPELESS, CORRUPTION, CRIME, ELECTION, PETROLEUM, DOLLARS, EDUCATION, DISASTER, DEVELOPMENT, PROGRESS.
by....Queen Oyinloye.
The rate of crime in nigeria is a disaster,
Petroleum has retarded our progress.
Our development has brought about homelessness,
When democracy itself is hopeless.
Dollars and pounds in the name of corruption,
Education was part of their manifesto.
Foolish fools are celebrating disaster,
Hungry toads are jumping on progress.
Insecurity amongst the homeless,
Certainly they are members of the hopeless.
The Journey of almighty corruption,
Is the able signatory to their manifesto.

NEW GENERATION BEGGARS

 by  Ali toyin smart.
 Indeed, the whole universe is being painted with weird illusion, built upon fantasies which are, themselves, non- existent. It beholds when you walk on the clumsy streets, and sight agile souls and bones campaigning tirelessly to send penury on compulsory exit. It pinches the muscleless mind when unsung lives dance to ballet from dawn to twilight; yet consigned within the enclave of disillusional poverty. Had nature remained sacred and just; destitudes would have rode on beautiful horses; cladded in sartorials of resplendent elegance; and dwelled in best castles summarily erected within the living domain. But for their punctured destiny and the filthy environment nature had in reserve; they ended up romancing the nights with various assortment of failed prospects, unfulfilled promises, among other personal adversities. Beyond the figment of our own imagination, providence has really betrayed their yet-to-be refined missions on mother earth. Yet, they succumbed to the catchy tunes of nature, navigating the slippery roads with shoeless feet and untainted identities. With their ever-flowing garb of disdain, they caught the pity of gazing eyes, with their impoverished mien and malnourished posture. This set of strayed bones are every where, in the nooks and cranny. They are products of dysfunctional homes, psychological incoherence, stunted finances and some other misfortunes, which coincidentally reshaped their presupposed bright destiny. In spate of this natural complex, they still remain the new set of discoveries the world never evolved in recent time. Unlike their fellows in the middle and top echelons of the society, these individuals remain undaunted by the circumstances that envelope their current distasteful inclination. They yielded not to the chicanery allegedly instituted by the hypocritical society, to confiscate their undying dreams. Armed with this mantra, they take to the streets, summoning unbriddled effort, to ride home the elusive fortune. Though apparently homeless, the band wangons of pervert hands, they would never pay reverence to, even to the chagrins of their potential pay masters. The contentment, camaraderie and convivialities enjoyed at willful disposal, floods the whole game with bond of undiluted trusts. As days chameleon into nights, they serenade the street and its neighbourhood with songs of valour, all in effort to grant poverty a befitting burial. Hence forth, The street becomes the bouvac for their restive soldiery as each decked in tattered camouflage and armed with empty silver plate. As dictate of nature, they flaunt the beauty rarely enjoy by the bumpy-stomached ones within the comfort of their homes. At night, the ubiquitous breeze is at their beck and calls; while the inherently warm atmosphere nurtures their souls with resounding moments. In what mould into rhapsody of fun, the ill-fated realities of yesternights are quick forgotten, as the new morning dawn flourishes their dream with unfettered hope. Hence, they are homeless not hopeless. ‪#‎AliToyinAbdul‬#Lawstudent#journalist#writer#photographer#DirectorCCN#poet#Inspirationalspeaker

WE ARE ONE! DON’T SAY IT! LIVE IT!

BY....KEHINDE Z. MAROOF As humans beings we are all the same Believe it because it’s more than true As individuals we are uniquely different Like the colors of a rainbow or color hue We all have different goals and dreams That we choose to follow or pursue Facing the challenges and hardships From everyday life that often ensue The love for nature and all of humanity Should always be man’s greatest virtue The sanctity of nature and all human life Should always be man’s greatest value All our different races and our different beliefs Should be all given the maximum respect due All are entitled to be cherished and celebrated They are not justifications for others to subdue The crimes and wrongs committed by our ancestors Should not become a daunting and haunting residue Lessons must be learnt from the mistakes of the past Our reconciliation and forgiveness is long overdue Those filled with hatred or blinded by ignorance Those who stick to close mindedness like glue Infringing on others rights, on peace, love and unity Committing transgressions and don’t have a clue Those who purpose their life to earthly treasures Those who devote themselves to financial revenue Those addicted to pleasures and things materialistic Those who choose the path on Wickedness Avenue Those who preach extremism and radicalization Those who take misinterpreted scriptures as a cue To rally for a political, religious or personal cause Clinging on notions or facts they’ve falsely construe All are a disgrace to God and also to all of mankind All are lost like souls and hell is their destined venue Let’s arise to love and protect all of God’s creation So that for our sake and the sake of future generations Peace, love and liberty will thrive and always continue KEHINDE Z MAROPH is a creative writer who writes from Ilorin Kwara State.

CRY OF 'ABIKU'

CRY OF 'ABIKU' I rise from staggeredness with fluidy sensation flowing down my bosom I race down beneath the six feets, decked in garb of weirdness I manoeuvre round the wordly tripartite: the molten, the celestial, and the terrestial romancing the nights with failed destiny. I wax lyrically in deafening tone, the mantra of yesternight men let come my 'yeye abiye'; I beckon on my straying shadow, as the panicky wind blew down south. The future in my cold feet, a groan away from pleasure my dreams in a dying threshold just a hymn for the deads not the angelic night bangs but for the moment of mirths that rescue the saints from the worldly occults. Behold the forthcoming world I shall bury my vengeance in the hollow abyss, and wrap my days with dose of joy, with mound of ecstasy on my mother's chin, With dance of 'Iyaleta' in the village tabernacle Here comes the mysterious child Abiku! Ali Toyin Abdul is a director at Connecticus Creative Niche (Ilorin). He is an award-winning writer, poet and lover of anything Arts (photography, music and tourism). All rights reserved!

CONNECTICUS CREATIVE NICHE WELCOMES EVERYONE.

Are you a budding writer or you wanna hone your writing skills, then join us at Connecticus Creative Niche (Ilorin). You can contact 08135284036,08175057352or shoot a mail@ toyinsmartist@gmail.com. /olawoyinmustapha@gmail.com kindly drop ur number to join our WhatsApp group. thanks.