A circus bull,
a red-eyed bull,
Charging for blood;
dying for mud.

Niger delta helter-skelter
Helter-skelter Niger delta

They grope for stars,
in a hostile sky.
They dare to fish
as they are fished,
in poison ponds and muddy graves.

There is a pattern,
their lives take.
There is a manner
in which their live snakes.

Niger delta, helter-skelter

I see your dim-eyed children,
potbellied and half clad,
chewing their lips, with hands rested on balloon heads

Your villages suspend on lagoons, and
deathtraps camouflage as highways

But I pray,
North, East, West or South
I face the heavens,
and I cry,
let this rage pass

© David Onotu | January 2008

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