Titanic is Nigeria ( Spoken Word Poetry)

TITANIC IS NIGERIA

This ship is Titanic!

Politicians at top of the ship 

Enjoying 

Popping champagne,

No work, no sweat, living soft life.

You're the second class passengers at the second chamber

Suffering and smiling in the sunny days

With little or no space_ bodies gumming bodies in the crowded cities

Believing your reward is in heaven.

An in your slavery, you party, you drink, you oppress one another 

By packaging your poverty.

Believe me,

In this titanic nation

Of people using people

You the masses are the engine room of this titanic ship.

The more you pour the coal in the steam engine 

The more the ship keeps functioning

You are so important yet you don't know yet.

Your sweating keeps the nation afloat.

Your suffering keeps the nation living 

Your poverty keeps the nation rich

Without you, the nation is nothing.

That's why:

If you want to see, they will blindfold you.

If you want to reason, they will brainwash you.

If you want to talk, they'll silence you.

If you want to fight, they'll murder you.

Oh what a life!

Must these pharaoh keep enslaving his people to enjoy it pyramid?

Must these politicians keep enslaving the masses to cart away their national cake?

They empower you with 50000 naira while they loot your national reserve.

They pay you tiny salary while they share billions in one seating.

They build you fake roads while they fly in the air everywhere.

They promise you heaven on earth_ only to give you hell.

If this titanic one day sink in this ocean of governance, guess will be first to rescue?

Must these pharaoh keep enslaving his people to enjoy it pyramid?

Must these politicians keep enslaving the masses to cart away their national cake?

You need to stop jonzing! Im talking to you!

This nation is a titanic ship_ and seriously I want you to realise it.

Before it's too late.

Copyright © Samueldpoetry 

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"80 Years of Light" _for Dolly Parton — Aug 25, 2026_

She left on a Monday.  

August 25th.  

80 years.  

Not with a scream,  

but with the kind of quiet  

a porch light leaves behind  

when the morning finally comes.

Tennessee made her from mountain and melody.  

Dust on her boots, glitter in her voice.  

She walked out of Sevier County  

with nothing but a cardboard suitcase  

and a song she wrote on the way to Nashville.  

They said she was too much.  

Too big. Too blonde. Too country.  

So she became more.  

She wrote "Jolene" at 24  

and gave the whole world permission  

to be scared of losing what they love.  

She wrote "I Will Always Love You"  

and then let it go  

so someone else could sing it to the sky.  

That’s the kind of woman she was.  

She didn’t hold songs hostage.  

She set them free.

She wore wigs like armor  

and rhinestones like prayer.  

Made herself a cartoon  

so little girls and big men  

would both have to look.  

And while they were looking,  

she was building libraries.  

1 book a month.  

For kids who didn’t have any.  

Because she remembered  

what it felt like to have nothing  

but stories.

She didn’t preach.  

She just showed up.  

Disaster relief.  

Vaccines.  

Paychecks for workers when the music stopped.  

“Coat of Many Colors” wasn’t just a song.  

It was how she lived.  

80 years.  

And not one of them wasted on bitterness.  

She laughed through the rumors.  

She worked through the pain.  

She loved through it all.  

Today the Grand Ole Opry is quieter.  

The radio will play her anyway.  

Because voices like hers don’t die.  

They just stop needing a body to carry them.

So tonight, if you miss her,  

put on a record.  

Sing off-key.  

Donate a book.  

Tip your waitress.  

And remember:  

You can be from nowhere  

and still belong to everyone.  

You can be soft  

and still be steel.  

You can be Dolly.  

Rest now, Miss Parton.  

The stage lights are off.  

But the light you left?  

That one stays on.

Au revoir.

Copyright © Samueldpoetry 

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She's Dead

 

Did you know I hate elegy?

Did you know I am not a fan of tragedy?

Did you know anytime I narrate tragedy or elegy I do it in sorrow mood?

Did you know or you did not know?

Did you know there used to a beautiful lady named Examination?

Did you know she was like a judge in a law court?

Did you know she was like a decider of fate?

Did you know or you did not know?

How come you didn't know Miss Examination is already dead?

How come you didn't know Miss Examination had been battling illnesses?

How did it all started and deteriorated only to lead to death?

When Miss Examination was wallowing in an unhygienic environment, what help did you render?

When Miss Examination was battling insomnia, what help did you render?

When Miss Examination was battling kidney failure, what help did you render?

What help exactly, tell me what help did you render?

Did you know she finally died of cancer?

Did you know the virus that sped up her cancer belong to the family of Artificial Intelligent?

Did you know too much AI was forcefully injected into her, and broke her immune system?

Did you know or you did not know?

Do you agree that all breathing nostrils are to be blamed for her death?

Including you listening to me or do you want exempt yourself?

Do you not know that I know that you know that sooner or later Miss Examination won't survive?

Did you know Miss Examination is dead, she's dead, finally dead, but yet to be buried?

Did you know that anytime you see her, what you're seeing is a ghost?

Did you know we are in great danger if we choose burial rather than her resurrection?

Did you know or you did not know?

The choice now is; do we bury Miss Examination or put in the work to resurrect her?

Copyright © Samueldpoetry 

https://mynaijapoets.blogspot.com

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