Valentine Okolo Poems

I will wear sunglasses,
so as to hide the tears which form in my eyes.
For a man is not supposed to cry,
so they say,
...

My love
I will not ask you
to be a pigeon or a dove
cooing your pleasures away
...

This is not poetry. They are my words handcuffed and carried away
in black Marias by men who play gods with guns. And wearing the official uniforms given to them by those who rule, in orderto protect the people. Yet, they choose not to protect the people. Instead, they extort money from them and have them locked up on trumped up charges, written on statements of air.

This is not poetry. It is the rage of wasted years. Of youths, considered useless by a system which murders their visions. And buries them in a graveyard of lost dreams. A system which leaves the youths to wander in the wilderness of uncertainty, unsure of tomorrow. Because for many of them, tomorrow might never come.
...