Monday, 16 January 2012


Mindless kleptocrats!
Disguised as plutocrats
They have taken possession
Of that reserved immemorial 
For philosophers and sages
Who in the very least
Would consider their jobs
A little more than sinecures
To told and untold riches
Brazenly obtained in toto
With the blood of the people
Splattered on their paths
To international bank accounts…

The ship has become rudderless
Rendering citizens useless
In unforetold poverty
In the midst of plenty –
Money only in the hands
Of a rapacious few
Who now mock the many
For their lack of reason
Or they would not have ended
So destitute and forsaken –

Pater familias sits playing possum
While hunger’s invisible whip
Cicatrices his children’s tummy  
Nothing to do but bow a balding head – 
Mother Nature apportions filthy lucre
To whomsoever it chooses
According to their fortune
And only a little labour
If at all…

The other day our freedom was stolen
With the firm promise of a swift return
At the sweet dawn of our ten-year young
Moribund democratic experimentation
Clinging on the thin thread
Of its adulterated alternative
Served up with fanfare
By these primitive primates of power
Though they masquerade as saints…

Our wait is eager yet
For a life lived with half the quarter
Of a broken-in-half fading smile
And a soupcon of egalitarianism
Served up on a zinc platter
Of gerontocracy…
But how long must the wait be
Till this promised land of hope
On hold since the dawn
Of African independence
From nefarious colonial masters
To our advertised freedoms
In the hands of our Draconian brothers…

                 (To Bola Ige)
We must wait on end for a messiah
Coming at the dawn of time
To hold sway in time
Till his uncrowned shaven head
Is bashed against the prison wall
His frail frame succumbs
To the clatter of assassin’s bullets
Or the knife slits his set throat
His blood collected in a dirty vat
To be sacrificed to a false god
And then we the compatriots 
Shall arise in belated solidarity
Like our anthem calls us obey
Sprite him from his unpaved grave
Seize our destinies in our hands
And at least massage it a while
And give glory to his ghost…

Political party and party politics
Make an odd meaning here now
The party being just one man
Surrounded by obsequious cohorts
Meeting and partying in his house
Or doing his dirty chores and bids
With assured tickets and positions
In recompense for banal illegalities
Chaperoned by hopeless fools
Given a chance of a lifetime
By fellow dropouts in power
Illegitimately garnered in cults
Sworn to by sacrificial blood pacts
Mismatched against odds
With a powerful opponent
In our national roulette
One cannot but lose
Though play one must
And justly!