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Pankyes Kode, aka PK is a spoken word poet from Kaduna. Born in Jos, Plateau state, you can say he was born in the Rocks and raised by the Crocs.
PK releases his debut single titled “Blue and Red” produced by Surgeon.
Blue and Red is a poem about our differences in religion. Inspired by the sad killings of 12th and 22nd May 2022 in Nigeria as Deborah Samuel (killed by a mob of her Muslim classmates in Sokoto state), and Harira Jubril (killed alongside her four children in Anambra state by suspected IPOB members aka unknown gunmen) were victims of “colour” differences.
Blue and Red is not only about religion, but tribe and race too.
P.K Blue and Red(spoken word)

Connect with P.K — Facebook: Pankyes Kode, Twitter: PankyesK, Instagram: Pancares

 If our parents ever knew how our 
 choices in colours would tear us apart
 They would have taught us about black 
 and white the true colours of our hearts
 My brother and I came from the
 same country same city same home
 Even though our last names were the same
 we had different mothers
 My mother was sad cold and profane
 like the colour Blue
 His mother was hot angry and rosy
 like the colour Red
 As infants
 we sucked from their breast milk
 coloured in blue and red
 I grew up well-nourished 
 in all shades and hues of blue
 while my brother was well-fed with red
 As kids
 we played hide and seek
 closing our eyes we hid our colour differences
 seeking to find true happiness 
 which we always found on the playground
 playing football where the only goal awarded
 was the number of fun we passed to one another 
 And everyday we would score and keep 
 scoring till our worries went over the bar 
 as our goal kicked
 Kicked us to our teenage years
 when our heights became taller
 and our colours became darker 
 like trees
 that germinated from the coloured seeds 
 our mothers planted
 with roots that stemmed from corrupt deeds
 doing what they wanted
 our actions bore bitter fruits
 fruits so bitter like truth
 And truth is
 we have become our mother's sons
 than being our father's children
 Now we're adults
 We've put aside all childish ways 
 except playing football
 Now when we play football 
 we play like professional players 
 playing precise passes past each other
 till we're out of line
 Now we throw in attacks to defend 
 our mothers colours 
 Now we play competitively
 because this match is far from friendly
 Now we play like the Blues of Chelsea
 and the Red Devils of Manchester United 
 Now the only goal we have in common 
 was scored by Juan Mata the number Eight
 that played and scored against blue and red
 just as the same one matter called Hate
 played and scored against the number 
 one keeper of our hearts called Love
 And Love
 Love is like Water
 a clean water 
 it is colourless
 it is pure
 it is life
 Love is like a clean water pouring 
 into glass cups the size of our hearts
 filled with our mother's colours
 This clean water naturally comes 
 like a spring water falling from a mountain 
 as high as the cloud is to the ground 
 like the Angel Falls of Cainama 
 National Park in Venezuela 
 this water falls from the deepest place 
 this water falls into glass cups 
 the size of our hearts
 and dispels our mother's colours
 Until our hearts become clear 
 and transparent like glass
 only then can we clearly see through
 how our mothers were only jealous wives each 
 seeking the love of their husband - our father
 And our father is neither Blue nor Red
 He is colourless 
 He is pure 
 He is life
 Like clean water

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