The Last Outrage AFRICAN CIVIL STRIFE PART 1 With strong order upon us Terrible was the clash Fighting that crushed the will Killing in the name of ownership Both factions ruled on nonentities strongest fought against the strongest Feeding on its people In a division of conflicts How many people perished Suffered much through the war Against the dreaded ethnic furies Made pre- eminent on the onset of war This is the last outrage sound of people under assaults a nation that has lost its reasoning By the spirits of ruin PART 1 SCENE 11 The nativity went against their fear To ask after their sons And after their neighbors The sorrow in store for them The people that are dying Rehearsed in numbers When their city is taken Turning the tide of battle Yet victory passes back and forth between the amour of battle Dead in all the elaborate war gear A grave mould over the poet PART 1 SCENE 111 Since the anger within me is urgent I drove an endless terror upon my readers Screamed out my a trumpet in dialect Against the murderous attackers who beleaguered the city With the battle cry into the crowd I trod Letting the bloody  tears fall down on me A manuscript to make up the point of conflict And in a rages to haul it away Dragging the dead through the carnage The corpse of these who have fallen Coming together in bitter collision pictured home the blooded spoils. PART 2 (in USA) SCENE 1 rag like poetry pictured a rag-like soldier bullets and wounds comes in pen and ink, the savagery of a clan acts out the scene of affront and a "bush" man's altitude made the president true, the scene of battlement found forms in a tribal mind and a wounded world sinks into a blank empty page. . PART 11  scene 11 a soldier went to war came back fatter and fitter funny when I think of it to war or to honey moon, the khaki uniform comes with him a second skin no sight of tear or wear and yet a year in the battlefront, the only sign he was there true was a snap shot taken from the pilgrim part standing beside butt naked Iraqis the victim of terrorist acts, PART 11 scene 111 another came running presently pale as pale could be true attack! Attack quote he 'the infidels are here' a countenance white with alarm two eyes of flame… were the screams came along the pilgrim trail, Women and children and young and old by bodies they crawl faster and faster, lower and lower as terrorist claims PART 3 'sad damned'(in the pilgrim land) Wishing to hold power over all Beyond counts were the foremost ranks By numbers and valor comes such foul pestilence and yet it is all theater- Wished to be lord above all For these who didn't obey him just need to be 'sad damned' in a true theatrical act- The best men among them perished Upon their own son's and leader Torn up with a pilgrim passion And yet it is all theatre Kill the men and leave them in ashes Think again of the bloody carnage Beat your breast with proud hands As say like the 'saddamnedman' it is all theatre Win into every country to force men astray terrorizing up the whole pilgrim In a bloody game for mans funeral And say you fought for your country- Now you see the pictures am trying to paint Death on  the hands of a man who hate men Not only the horror of fighting   stationed by the ditch or outside the rampant But by a carnage so complete Made funnier when it was CNN-ed 'sad damned in the theatre ' PART 3 SCENE 11 I hate the passage of death I hate the shepherd within The brave and the weak Through all the many reviews I hated all the perpetrators Setting ones life on hazards of battle Through the bloody days of the fight Man slaughtering its all I hated all the poets and writers Who could not lean a voice And let me the lone ranger A poet in tribal Africa responding to the outrage If the gods could keep me long alive Fighting men won't come forth to war Were the end is always in death Captured by force in my manuscript PART 4 NIGERIAN CIVIL STRIFE Each showed the temper of our ethics And paid with disaster of slaughter of sheep And now the house lies in ruin Beside still waters Like the enigma of dreams death strides quickly in line with the ray of a setting sun as our bloods ebbs out Erosion of life Leveled the tribal land And the altars were destroyed Desecrating the seats of gods Irremediable horror on its people The pride of the tilled land Clothed  strong red with 'necklaced' men Dead by their own kin Some fell along the lines Were children picked up the arms And filled their hands with them For generations to come The endless plains Looked like earth that has been ploughed With  black blood and the inward guts Feeding upon the bodies of perished men A nation with new wounds as daily bread Lucky Clans came only with deep sore Hate and confusion among families Parents against their children clashes went from every whim Turned the battle into a rout of natives And its people are made weak Since they have the pain of their wounds Genocides are out of the question Rwanda can never happen again… Is that my conscience speaking? Please do not pay heed. URDEEN 2004

THE AFRICAN SOUL Afield the echoes scream, Deep within the alluvian of the African soul Squat and croaking in my conciousness things about arts found only in dreams trying to access my share of the brotherhood questions that pain has sought to kill the black man curriculumn teaching me about thyself... nourished anew along the Niger plains under the skin of a native beat as I study the African literature

Hut and Skins I have none but hut and skins and the usual junks my people have yet I am a king in my own realm again within the endless plains in my poetry lies my profiles contentment in gutter education carving out my manuscript and claim my own kind tribes of men, men fitted with strong sinew bones larger harder like stumps conditioned by years of conquered illness heat from the field and dry winds mild wandering fashion of savage old to eat what only the rain and sun could give clothed here in my manuscript as I study the African literature.

THIRD WORD ABORTION Showing me her arc shaped with unborn child the black woman came to me as if to say 'I am a part of all that you see' twacking the strings such nuance that linger on yet the notes sounded false every time the blade cracked forms in mid squat in the silence of blood among the cocoa leaves embryos severed from its source Urdeen