In the stories the knife talked about
The necks paid the price
Healing is synonymous with bloodshot eyes.
Prayer many times failed
Don’t pray everyday.
The church is not the answer
Even heaven knows
Let the preacher die at the end of the prose
This gathering is the question
Never let open eyes close.
A sacrifice must be made,
Another way of saying everyone must die, a facade,
Battle long lasted over a piece of meat,
Yours larger than mine, blows to beat,
Their offsprings the goddess of success visit much,
Ours she flees not a touch,
We plant same crops, their harvest bloom and beautiful,
Ours hardly a stomach can it full,
They worked hard, prayed, received counsel from the wise,
We only prayed and spent twice.
Starting from this point
We turn back the hands of time
So she can tap the feet
And push the brain
To the day after tomorrow
Today is spent long
On spilt milk that will never be tasted
For what it’s worth
This fruit of Eden
Has presented us with a new work
I am no mannequin on its feet for long
I am the chair that sits on what is wrong.
Yes! You called me that through that song.
And held me with truths tied around my tongue.
I am tired of stumbling
this wooden floor creaks with enough ache.
I’ve gotten back up once, I fell down twice
to struggle through Nos because I am right.
Tell me in please, what catapult are you?
How long is this way forward?
Through the crack of night
Where tomorrow hid
Like a maiden
Pregnant with tomorrow
I saw tomorrow in Jos
I saw peace
I saw you in it.
Am I wrong? For wanting more for this country?
Was i wrung? The blood has bled out of my artery.
The fear of God is higher than the fear of recession,
The same reason men go to churches in a procession.
After the crusade is a cruise. Where do we go from here?
The old rule is ancient, leaving the young with the refresh button.
Ancient is wise, but when it has fangs and is a glutton…
A part for a whole is now a cancer to the whole.
Let’s take a new generation and stick it in that hole.
The way forward is asleep, leaning back on history.
The bullet shot, for a moment it paused
Allowing the driver enough time to blurt
‘Robbers!’ Then it cut the air
and the old man’s lungs did burst
‘Get us five million from wherever!
Or you will never see your mother, not ever!’
Digging ditches, burying vermin was all I know
Slitting throats before sucking at blood was mother’s game
But how could those backward folks have known
That that day would be their last?
What is this feeling that never dies?
The world ain’t at my feet, my awesome cry
After I did all for you and got tried
You still desire to look me with a bad eye
‘I am not perfect’
That is the phrase of a Lazy male
For this has made my relationship with you stale
I am gonna stand here and wait, my love
Cause I know you are gonna come back all as one
I will mend these pieces as one.
Blinded by unloyal lips, kissing.
Broken curves of skewness.
Designated under path.
Saving grace, how sweet the sound.
Covered lanes bringing forth misery.
Searching that which isn’t missing.
Another motive to search less.
Till death do us part.
In honesty not too loud.
A vacation to eternity.
This path runs through hell
That’s the price of a pact with the devil
We’ve threaded the wrong path
Looking for a sunrise in the north
The path forward is backwards
No need rearview mirrors,
Run at sprint speed
Crashing in the right is just a hurdle
Return your own 30 pieces of silver
Unwash your washed hands, fold them sleeves