We have dipped Half-fired pots In the well of independence Like vultures sinking Long beaks in the soft parts At least the vultures harvest Chunks of stinking slippery flesh Which sail gently Down welcoming throats But we have stayed by the well Soaked in frustration Our arms heavy stumps Our hearts shrivelled nuts As the water defies ur pots Little winder then The vultures laugh at us...
My voice husky and pale
My fists fletched and raised
My legs battered and weak.
I cry for
The sky’s dark
Loud, mourning my youth
In a thunderous yet scared voice
I hear it
The rhythm of my heartbeat,
Shattered in pain
But filled with resilience
I can see the sad countenance tonnes of frustration on your beautiful face. I can read the script of shame scribbled all over you. I can see the pain in your eyeball. I feel the worry behind that beautiful smile. Your certainly are not where you want to be, where you ought to be. The curtains are slowly drawing down on you. Your life is moving in circles. You topped your class; the whole world...
The Plight Of an Urban Poor Time check, it’s 4 am. Because of the morning drizzles, he hasn’t left to escape the wrath of the beast. The unforgiving mosquitoes, rain drops through the holes aloof, and the loud moans from the neighbor next door made the night go unnoticed. The land lady has unsuccessfully been hounding him for a week now. She has just arrived, on the usual time so he...
Unwashed plates under my bed at 10am Till when shall we cry Tilted tales told in tiny time Time! Time! Time! Time! We think we have time, we have not In coats of silk they drive class Dines done with dirty dimes Dimes! Dimes! Dimes! Dimes! They think they have dimes, they have crimes A mother cries, a graduate mourns A woman dies, a man starves Food! Drugs! Jobs! Roads! We think we have leaders...
A lot has changed surely. Things have gone from bad to worse. Hallo..greetings.. Its been quite long since your demise. We still pray to the almighty to forgive your misdeeds and grant you paradise. A lot has changed surely. Things have gone from bad to worse. The seven of us are still alive. Mama even grew some gray hair. The baby you left in her womb is now a grown man! A perfect replica of...