Wednesday, December 29, 2010

BOMBbilee OCTOBER 1ST 2010

they asked us to smile
though our tongues tasted bile.
they choked the throats of our ears
trying to drown our fears
with their sugared songs
which painted their seamless wrongs
their tricks of 20 for 11, promises unmet
in colours that make us forget

that our steaming pots are full with air
that our skins are dried and bare
that the ruts on our roads
mock the rot of dead toads
that our dreams are still asleep
that yesterday was flushed down the drain
that today is a sugared-cane of pain
that tomorow lies beyond our grip
that where we sow they reap

and we forget it all like the pain of sex
smiling when we ought to vex.
Fela said it: suffering in silence
silence in suffering:hope led by pretense
so to the party we all came
the hale, the ill and the lame
clinging to to the frayed rope
that their words bear fruits of hope?

so we heard not the blasting sound
for our ears are long deaf to sounds around
from ages of courting coughing generators
and listening to rowdy legislators.
Did we not come to see the rainbowed lights?
though the dark would have better hid our blights

alas! the baby came afore the pregnancy
as they sought to MEND evil with lunacy
and we saw the lights we had craved
though for a tamer light as some raved

whilst our bowl of shame we shared
and the Eagles chanted in the Square
they lighted up our sunny sky
with an angry Dok Ray Pesii sigh?
restless crumbs of heated ore trampling feet
singing on our street...

our stomach have prayed for meat
how we have prayed for a slaughter
that we might afford the price of laughter
as our Shepherds befuddled with Sake
Zoned away our National Cake
...the slaughter we had
bur rather than  revel we were sad
blood and brine, flesh and bone
mixed with earth as death's light shone
stomachs revolting, hearts wilting
for the slaughtered could not be eaten
the feasting bell becomes a mourning knell

thing have fallen apart, the centre cannot hold
mere anarchy is loosed upon the fold
the shit hits the blowing fan
the stench hits the nose of every man
he who points one accusing finger at every whim
has three pointed back at him...
i saw not
i heard not
let no man ask
what is in the flask

i lend not my ears
they have theirs
my lip lies
in the truth of my eyes

1 comment:

  1. this is the ceremony of shame called NIgeria...Independence marred by blood and death..SHAME!!!!




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