Problem Solver

I got guns

single-shot under-slug grenade launchers

sawed-off double barrel shotguns

single-action revolvers:

.357 magnums, .45 colt

Italian variants M16s

colt M 4 rifles with special mounting

system M 203 double-action trigger

anti-materiel rifle .50 BMGs

fabarm FP6 carbon fiber

9x19mm parabellums-

m 1946 sub-machine gun

double-action revolver

.30 semi-automatic carbine

.222 Remington, .243 Winchester

7mm Remington carbine

12 gauge compressed Air Launcher

general purpose machine guns

that means I can kill rats with a gun

assault rifles

civilian market variant

designated marksman rifle

.45 ACP subcompact

wlther PPKs, KAC chainSAW

brownings and Kalashnikovs

9x18 mm Makarov

aircraft mounted autocannon

plus I'm armed with C4s

then I blow fools to oblivion

that's problem solved.

Akpan

Let's Get Serious And Go To War

Photo Courtesy: UNHCR (modified)

We’ve come too far raise the bar

And erect a gas chamber

Why not toss a bomb

Blow that laughter to kingdom come

Let’s get serious and go to war.

What’s peace

Got to do with't when bliss

Tangos with ignorance

Brotherhood pays penance

We got too much love

To give it snaps the cord

Let’s get serious and go to war.

Drug that wimp

Slug the pregnant bitch

Drown the damn refugee

And put that river on the map

I know you lo’ that

Com’on show me some blood

Let’s get serious and spark a war.

A party ain’t a party

If the war dogs ain’t in it

Get ready to make some noise

Cause the boys gon’ bring their toys

We been having loads of fun

Let’s get serious and throw a war.

Forget breakdancin’

We ammo freelancin’

Bomb some kill ‘em off

An off-the-set James Bond

Don’t show me love

Show me a Kalashnikov

Let’s get serious and bomb the world.

Akpan

Built on Tragedies

Courtesy: UNHCR (@Refugees)
Mother and child, refugees from South
Sudan find pleasure in each other.

Before my time

I was conceived to multiply

And increase the influence of genius

In a realm where ignorance is surplus.

A mystery dispatched from the stars

By special delivery to inspire mortal hearts.

Like the stirring of intuition;

Like a premature seed piercing a rock

To introduce a forest of inventions.

My mission is born.

Before my time

I was conceived to multiply.

Perceived by the multitude

As the oasis of the promise;

I triumph still without excuse.

Sifting reality from chaff of fantasies.

I evoke wide jaws

Like a foetus

Fulfilling biblical prophecy.

As I ride the rage of the storm in timeless majesty.

Akpan

Rust on the Razor

Photo Courtesy: UNHCR (@refugees)
This child refugee from South Sudan says she wants to be a
nurse when she grows up. Still keeping the faith even in exile.

There's some pretty girl but homeless

Say she wanna be a nurse when she grow up.

Shaken but already thinking of healing the hopeless

Cause in the darkness real stars keep their head up.

Now ain't that some jewel you wanna look up or hook up

Or maybe root for to have a shot at life in days to come.

This wonderful light ain't gatto be this way

We gatto make a change strive to create a better day.

Journey with 'em thro their misery be the emissary

Of luxury it's not chemistry it’s necessary we make history

Come, give me your hand. Help her stand. Be the man.

We can turn her plan to something grand. Yes we can.

Akpan

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Switched

For all those years I thought the Boko Haram insurgency was
an extended spell of the infamous Northern Nigeria riots

Incomplete, that’s the definition of me without a you

It’s taken me a while but the blinders are down it’s true.

I’ve seen my wrong I know I’ve been such a fool not to.

Unfeeling had me like and I said, ‘It’ll pass.’ That’s cruel.

Why do I visualize paradise but get paralyzed

By the sight of you otherwise immortalized?

I’ll rime till it’s sunrise n’ your night turns brite,

Time I switched sides, be a bona fide paradigm.

‘A few more days,’ I said, ‘and it’ll be gone with the wind.’

While you died in plain sight I let fear lax my heartstrings,

But time taught me not to wait for what tomorrow brings;

I am what brings tomorrow so I rise on a dayspring scream.

Why do I visualize paradise but get paralyzed

By the sight of you otherwise immortalized?

I’ll rime till it’s sunrise n’ your night turns brite,

Time I switched sides, be a bona fide paradigm.

Akpan

WWNF

WWNF is ab for We Will Never Forget. If the on-going negotiations with
the Boko Haram terrorists means the Nigerian Govt. is just gonna let them
walk after all the deaths and sorrow they brought on school kids...
Justice is indeed blind.

Wanta negotiate but forgot the children you torched

I betcha talkin’ ‘bout how ta regain yo freedom,

I betcha forgot the scores of times you played God,

Tossing bombs and pumping slugs all up the north;

Wasting gobs of young dreams in the name of religion,

Now you feel ya’ll just gon’ turn around and spill yo

Guts and make demands? But justice is a loaded gun

On a hair trigger and its cartridge is full of lethal slugs.

The lives you destroyed rise to judge you n’ yo cohorts.

A million wasted dreams signed your eternal damnation.

The only pardon you truly deserve is hell’s own option.

Ya’ll aint gatto make demands why don’t you just pop off.

We will never forget how they died the death of a dog.

We will never forget the fatal aftermath of Postikum.

We will never forget that the earth sucked up their blood

Because you strewn their cadavers in the streets to rot.

We will never forget the camp where ya’ll tripped a bomb,

Because even when they was displaced it wasn’t enough

Until they was wasted and their names wiped off this world;

We will never forget the abductions and forced wedlock.

We will never forget the unborn burnt alive in the womb

Because you fools weren’t man enough to restrain your lust.

We will never forget the schools turned factory for bombs

We will never forgive nor forget until justice has run its course.

You will get what you so richly deserve.

Hear me Boko Haram: judgment is served.

Akpan

Tightrope

For the Chibok Girls

Here I sit in my room alone but alone,

Tossed in mixed-up emotion’s throes,

Dying to live where your pain lives;

Breathless in anticipation of the impact

I want to hurt your hurt bring you release,

Trap the sunshine in a cup revamp your spark.

Tho I can’t read the scars on the skin of your heart

I’ll give anything for five minutes to play your part.

I wish I could trade an exhale for a million sighs;

Heave the tug of your burden shoulder high

Until I hear myself scream, ‘please, no more!’

Yet this much is true, no one can erase your worth.

Akpan

T-Concubine

BINTA IBRAHIM
16 year old multiple rape victim with an unidentified child she rescued.

To the 214 rescued pregnant girls so-called “Terrorist’ Concubines.”

Warning to the Reader: Here there be Foul Language.

It's not my fault that I am the way that I am.

So don't judge me if you ain't been up the shit creek I had to paddle.

My sister, I ain't reserve no respect for none of ya'll that don't understand

I suggest you stand back and watch me wriggle thru the eye of this needle.

It's not my fault that I seek solace in your embrace;

That I look up and out and into your face dying for a touch of grace.

Just that your stigma keeps trespassing with the affairs of your mouth.

But I'm here to stay brother, deal with it or haul it down south.

It's not my fault misery selected me over you.

If I did bust that joint has it not crossed your mind ama thrive on your attitude?

When ya'll was all wrapped up in the warmth of fam., I was stolen and abused

You just like them to downtalk but I stand strong and refuse to be reduced.

It's not my fault that those mad dogs threw themselves at me;

So how come ya'll hating on me like I was some colossal freak?

Ya'll should be throwing a party, celebrating the fact that I'm free.

But I am not your expectation and I will survive and bring some style into it.

It's not my fault that I am the way that I am.

It's not my fault that I seek solace in your embrace.

It's not my fault that misery selected me over your brass

So am I asking too much cause I expect some respect for my pain?

Akpan

Soulja Story

A soulja battling Boko Haram who is also fighting his personal
demons writes his daughter about his personal struggles.

Dear Daughter,

This is not Father.

Tell you what; this war's been one tough nut to crack;

If we fight the enemy we shall hit our brothers.

There's no telling who got dragged into this joint;

Or who got paid to settle for a human bomb.

I've had nightmares where I woke up totally drenched;

Victory has never before tethered on a more slippery edge.

Who willingly yields up a daughter?

Then turns around and cries, Murder! Murder!

Who can spot the color of truth, color of a lie?

Who discerns a foe just by looking 'em in the eye?

Sometimes, I feel this is a struggle in vain.

I assume it sounds lame and probably is insane.

But can I be positive I ain't sticking out my neck for a traitor?

Can I state with certainty there ain’t secret mass burial sites?

They wear our faces and speak our tongue.

They sniff out the nitty-gritty of our minds.

If I sound a bit off the wall maybe I am.

But when we get down to brass tacks it’s Nigerians offing Nigerians.

Things are never what they seem behind enemy lines,

In this place I wage war and for same I lay down my life.

Dear Daughter,

This is Father.

Akpan