Poetry: Headlines


Upon the sands of these streets
Where my feet lay bare
No news is new
Deception is the headline
History had thought me well.

I learnt the power of colours
In its concord to words:
Red connotes blood,
Black is darkness,
White is peace;
These become true
When the contrary are few.
Their headers have sworn to keep it so.

Never blame conclusions
Without convicting prior headlines.

A man dies while on top
The news said
Findings reveal
He had flown to a higher plane
Built some stories
Stayed on the last floor
But slumped one faithful day
Now someone must travel the distance
To retrieve his finger
But that part the headlines left out

Jennifer Dafwat
ーBaby found my eyes in her heart,
digging to rest its head in between its chest.
She misses the shovel in her tongue
the one he digs out her pot of gold.
ーThe rains didn’t stop his hat
it rested on his head,
beating drums she dances to.
Yes she dances to
ーThe sun didn’t shine during the day
it came only at night
to laugh at their fright.
Yo eat away the artificial sight.
The sun will come tomorrow,
ーHis mother will be a well,
she would pour her water to fill his gourd
with laughter and songs
with rhythm as sweet as life.
That’s all for today.

Some stories are hungry,
Load some more data and they’ll feed.
News flash is gory,
Another minor raped again.
Next page seems promising,
But the stolen sum is staggering.
We recover stolen goods
But never really recover for good.

This one has me laughing,
More promises are made.
Dates should be fixed soon,
I’ll love to be a distinguished guest.

Misfortunes have the most views,
Sympathizers make the most hits.
Superficial, their concerns,
The next minute it’s cold dish served.
Bla bla bla!
These headlines are bad.
News men should be exorcised,
What about the lines in your head?


A bird loses its temper,
Breaks both wings.

A dress falls off a performer,
Her underwear stinks.

Auto crash kills fifty,
It’s not the court’s cup of tea.

Virgins are overrated,
Mariah slept with the 60 men she dated.

A cross is different from a crucifix,
One is a sign, the other is just wooden sticks

Man’s Best man sleeps with bride
Calls it a jolly good ride.

The president will one day die
And every citizen won’t need an alibi


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