Philo Malize King, a philosopher and poet, hailed as The Philosophical Poet because of the esoteric style of most of his poems. He is a native of Ukpor Nnewi-south in Anambra state, Nigeria. He has a degree in philosophy(second class (Honours) upper division) from the Great University of Benin, Edo state, Nigeria. He is currently a master of Arts student of Metephysics at the Nnamdi Azikiwe University Awka, Anambra state, Nigeria. Malize is a young man with an unusual crave for excellence, a voracious reader, critical and articulate thinker.
Artistic Name: Philo Malize King
Date of Birth: 23rd May, 1987 Place of Birth: Onitsha, Anambra State
State of Origin: Anambra State, Nnewi South.
Marital Status: Single
First Degree: University of Benin, Benin City, Edo State, Nigeria.
Course/ Year: Philosophy; 2006-2010
Second Degree: Nnamdi Azikiwe University, Awka, Anambra State, Nigeria.
Course/Year: Metaphysics; 2013-till date.
Awake Nigeria! – Written by Mr Philo Malize King
My mother home, Nigeria
Bled and still bleeding from her implosion,
Ravaged and still ravaged by rapists of the incorrigible kind,
Racing against the racist,
Brain drained and drained of her mother’s milk
And left to ponder and wonder on her pong
Lugard is gone
She is left with guns, mirrors, broken fences
And a city whose centre cannot hold, Regions of north and east
And south and west
Spent and used up.
Now free but packaged in locally made chains
The captive and captors
And the freedom to gain,
Impregnated by the sons of the soil
Still aborted by her own womb
And she points at the toothless vampires
Instead of cleansing her own
Nigeria, when shall thou dry thy soul, soiled?
And darken from birth of bribery, still oiled
Not by the deeds of the dead white devil
But still, thy investment in evil
Evil to thy seed
Ado and stop guzzling the exertions of thy breed
For the liars and lice that sucked thy vein
Glory and pleasure in thy pain
Purge thy system off corruption
And consciences, clogged of vain intentions
Listen to the tears of thy womb, crying acid,
To the caution from the tomb whispering in echo
Quit mourning in thy supplications,
Awake from thy hallucinations
Giants are not cowards; Goliath was at the battlefield first.
Nigeria my fatherland,
Wake up to the race of time
For the night is losing its hold,
Then, what tales will thy sons be told?
Not of thy premature ejaculation
Nor black exploitation.
The breast that I suckled,
Awake from thy muddle
Puddle no more
And rid thyself of the culture of corruption
Trade no more on the track of death
And remove the shoe of oppression.