NewStats: 3,259,438 , 8,170,123 topics. Date: Sunday, 25 May 2025 at 02:22 AM 711i3b

The Shot: Remembrance Day

..............By the bonfires..
..........Among cheering soldiers
.......Sat one disturbed Lieutenant
......A son, a brother, now husband
.....Basking the day he had survived,
....A landmine, a bomb, and gunshots’
….With blistered palm and bruised knee
....In all the smoky stare of nothingness.
....He yearned for the lumpy flesh floating
......Above the suppled chest of his lover
.........For comfort while squirtin his DNA
..............Into her warm cave of fertility
.................That proclivity of fatherhood
.....................The birth of his death later.
.....................Snapped out his lost muse
..................In a reminiscence of folklores
.................A GOC singled his bravery out,
................Almost drowning him in prayers
................With all the blood of Jesus Christ
...............There’s no luck in bravery indeed
...........And there is no bravery in mere luck
...........Ask Benison – the underwear soldier
.........Ask Abu Ali – the lanky elephant man
.....Or M.M Hassan, the champ with nine lives
...Babatunde and Ifeanyi firmly held their keep
.And one day we’d all meet at heavens’ barrack
Gun salutes over the boring bugle deafening us
But let’s make these devils heaven our holy hell!
As volcanic cheers erupts from everyone’s mouth
.The disturbed soldier shot round his tired boots
...And planted his footprint on the ground… yes!
......With his bullets...he found his strength. True.
.........Their stories ..he found... ..peace ..
.........He’d make love to ..his gun... ..his lover ..
...............Now, his gun comes ...first….
...............” me” ...he said……..
......................Curtain Closed..........
.................................(funeral)……..



Inspired by Amitabh Divakar

**Clears Cobwebs**

I stand still
Until i see a thrill
That spins, whirls and twirls

The Shot (medical personnels)

When the savant years were compressed
Into a powerful paper,
Placing human lives on the caring fingers.
All the smell of burnt candles
Hugging the eyes as it glow and sparkle.
A vow and oat bled the heart
With comion, a call to service.

Far into the ocean of sands
Came a call, so silent that it can deafen the heart.
Women and children clothed in death and starvation
Locked in a theater of terrifying tears,
Husbands are lost to the sands,
Some were caned with talking rifles
Not friends to soldiers or muscled militiamen.

On the graved land, tipped a chopper,
Its blade tired of flight to and fro
Placing caring fingers onto the troubled ground
They swayed gently to the dusty breeze
Like they can outperform the dancers of death...
With a group of soldiers watching and cheering.
If only they knew....

Suddenly, a blast shook the sands
Followed by the talkative sound of a gun.
Confusion swam the air, struggling to bite
The wings that carried death with it.
Soldiers gone. The death show has ended.
The caring hands were taking away
With their hearts in their hands.

Sunset and sunrise, time came and went
The lack of finance made the militias vent.
A trade by barter, a shot for a shot.
A gun for a syringe. Another shot for a shot.
The market was empty for those who call the shot.
A video was made of one giving another a shot
A drug that made her dizzy on the spot.

She was taken outside with a gun on the head
She knew she was dead before being shot dead
If scenarios were to replay itself again
She'd be back to offer her carring hands over again.
On this note, she smelt her last breath
And spoke her God's language of death.
One shot to the head and heaven welcomed its own.


May the soul of Hauwa Leman RIP.

The Shot (Kill the GOC part 2)

Blinded by unseen eyes, a man slipped into heaven,
Dodging overzealous black eagles gawking around,
Atop, following a millipede of sentineled convoy
Through the skeletal eye of a malnourished gun,
A target has been identified and locked for dead.

Up high the tenth floor, confused breeze whispers
The tempest sound of the sky; a tune only the cursed
Hears; A man as patient as a wild cat waits with his finger,
His arm firmly padded like the breast of a female athlete
Breathing in sync-second of his military timepiece.

Below sirens screeches, an armoured beast
Breaths a rest, a man alights frailly like an old cargo,
Aided towards the podium with an hurricane aide
Wearing a dark shade on a bedsheet dress, like a boss,
Waving to the sycophantic cheers deafening the square.

Far across the stand, a handful or mutinous soldiers
Docked and clad in a robe of regret, waiting on death -
A familiar friend, not seeing the guilt beneath an extinguishing breath.
Suddenly, a bird flap in fright from a tenth story building;
Before anyone could look up, off goes a shot aimed at the boss’s skull.

The Shot (Kill the GOC)


Under the eagle's eye
An intend was forged,
It all began with a lie
That made the ears bulged.

Loyalty once gotten
Should be sustained
Else, past deeds are fogotten
And its betrayal, unexplained.

*****************************

A man, aggrieved,
And lost in his well lavished hatred
For the authority he vouchsafed to keep,
Stalked his prey to its heaven's gate,
Filled with a pocket of persistence, his patience brims.
He dislodged his rifle bits by bits,
And in disguise wore the mechanic mask.
That could only masquerade him in without suspicion.
Day after day he smuggled his rifles in part in.
Day one: barrels and bolts, day two: cylinder and pistons
Day three: springs and shocks, binocular and trigger assembly,
Till every parts of his contraband made heaven.

*******************************************
Under the tenth tent of the nation's service tower
Adjacent a square facing a flowery memorial drive
A box of metallic musket lay naked and puzzled;
Getting molded into deaths eating utensils.
Screwed got well tightened like a British shoe lace
As he handle his tool to what has become a revered rifle
He flashed to his virgin days when he saw it eat up a life
With just a silent perch, he ran his hands to its mouth.
Then a cacophony of cheers knocked him into reality,
He peeped through death's eye to wink his target
A perfect shot was captured, he pulled the tongue
And there goes the hungry shot of death...

If I were him too (God forbid) I won't tell.

AHCB:
General Officer In Charge of which battalion?

Lolz...wait for it
I'm currently modifying it to Commander in Chief and it's going to be in 3 parts.

The Shot (Kill the GOC)

The Haikus of Major Bello

In stretched battlefield
Emotions clothed in camo...
Home-reason is being.

Ammo on camo;
Thoughts thought colder is bolder -
A shot... It's over.

Friend's survival tip,
'When guts dumbfounds the gape mouth,
Fingers are talking'.

And when it's over,
And you long heard my silence -
I'm peacefully dead.