I have written about this before,
That the face this elephant wore
Wasn’t any good.
It still had to look for food,
As trunks scraped trunks –
Reshaping disorder in the woods.
“The hands of promise are frail and weak
The faucet is empty, but drought draws a leak
Nothing better stands ahead
Something is bitter, glands are dead.
The harvests are plenty for a few
The gatherers remain me and you.”
If losing is winning i’m sure
Success would fail some more
I have written about this once before,
I won’t write about this anymore.
I don’t know what to think of this nest.
The bird’s eggs have been laid
broken against the ground.
Miserable air carries the broken feelings around,
telling the rocks how soft they have become.
I know of groundnut eyes
with kuli kuli bullets.
Oh birdy hair,
when will thou change our stories
and pick us up against the 58 storey buildings?
Anikulapo was a white bird,
Amina a white flower,
I have become the muddy dust
eating with water and smiling with purple scars.
Let the horses come back to our Eagle,
let the broken shield find its mother.
I don’t know what to think of this house.
Its so sad, the state we are in.
We have the greatest losers as leaders!
If only our youths knew better!
Any way, do not think about what your country can do for…
Shut up man! Onye’ausa! Ewu! Illiterate!
What has this country ever done for us?
Toh! Zuwan 1st October za’a raba Kasa! Mune Nijeriya!
Like lunatic spittle hate speeches fly!
Soon this nation will realise it has bitten more than we can chew!