Art —Adriana Rocha

brother's head/father's sacrifice— Chukwuma Eke Pacella Chioma

brother's head/father's sacrifice — Chukwuma Eke Pacella now home has become a city of lost bones and falling waters. i wonder what god thought when (s)he placed souls on the metals of hunger; i mean spinning out the humanity in them listen, i know brother's body is hidden somewhere in father's heart perhaps father had traded his blood for noodles when his cv turned into rotten papers perhaps he had been loyal to the call of his stomach, became an abraham and led brother into the woods of sacrifice; isaac died after all. now mother still looks at my neighbor as though he has the smell of demonic altars she says her son lays in a corner of that boy eyes but i suppose she is too much of a weakling to search father's own eyes and heart. now pastor jay performs exorcism on my innocent tongue because i told mother; that night brother slept outside forever, i ...

Arrow Of Poached Porcupine—Abubakar Auwal

Arrow Of Poached Porcupine—Abubakar Auwal Smiles before the stream of earth— blood coloring the grasses. Sounds of ceremonial drums; Race of stray bullets. A child is dazzled and his mother has learnt to fly; Men over here wear spears between their teeth. Take a look into the eyes of the town. There are clouds wearing the face of gods, Holding swords and false promises. "Oh,where else does a boy learn to scream?" The cries of a missing mother Who lost her seed In a barren farm, speak! Since yesteryears till date- the red blood flows beyond the eyes Cracking with tears Till it becomes dregs. In restlessness we swim, Out of the home for dome, To escape from The direction of stray bullets. No skin is left unscarred , Fathers and potential mothers, brothers and sisters Worship in the death field. They prick our daughters Into early mothers They "inactive" our brothers and sisters; And we found them asleep in the d...

Blood and gold —Testimony Odey

Blood and Gold —Testimony Odey I birth the voices of women Carved in the calabashes of gold Whose content was drained by The throat of men hungry for Something their eyes couldn’t grasp Thirsty for liquid that would sting their throat Red and black, these men wore A sign that even blood couldn’t shake A single bone in the ir body A sign that wherever they walked in Darkness and gloom painted the atmosphere I birth the voices of women who had No strength to speak up for themselves Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. The tides of the deep blue sea They follow the rhythm of these tides Even their heads bop to this rhythm In the middle of the night When no one’s by their side And they are left all alone to cry I birth the voices of women Whose voice were too weak To alert passers-by of the danger That had befallen them I birth the voices of women Whose blood is tinged with gold. Bio: Testimony Odey is a Nigerian teen writer, poet,...

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