Awoken to behold the demise of our fathers,
Children born with no father to cut a navel.
The morning cries, from floating dead toll, made our early morning carnival,
As we danced to the melodious rattling of guns like 'ikoga;'
And the lost of loved ones, the moon-light tales.
The wailing as deep as black nights;
As for our strong men,
Step-out is inevitable while for freedom clamour.
The feminine regime's begun with an armour;
For no lads to tell the maidens a sermon,
And our homes bread by widows at thirty.
With half an eye we perch the bed in murmur;
Keep ears transmitting like belisha beacon,
And on high lift the gates of the nose,
As we yearn to drink not of halitosis.
On our minds the battle lines will die and smoulder;
For in our roofs are wars fought and not surrendered.
These mud houses built on graves must grow as tall as the iroko,
Having affairs with the moon;
For adulterated wasn't the manure returned,
All for but a cry for freedom.
As we cry our eyes dry, we face a new dawn.
This fight must cease to build a kingdom.
But the beauty of freedom is sweet like cheese.
Now the gallow's reversed for peace,
What's asked is given,
So, inevitable, is abuse.
Oh that our Moses be meek,
And Joshua be courageous!
Even as the dew of manna is secured,
In hunger we must die.
From the rock is water for our wearing throats,
But the channels built under the moonless nights.
Now we go places but make faces.
Who shall raise the serpent of brass
While we die of snake bites?
Oh that the Heavens will enlarge our coast
And bless this land with beans and oil!
In grief we bend to gird our loin.
And to the passers-by, never mind our cry;
For in this habitation is wailing a language;
And the sorrow that crept on our chest left a failing heart.
Though the eyes cease to give a shower,
But for this agony our voice must holler.
Oh reincarnation,
That we would find favour in your sight!
How the people await the return of Awolowo;
For the fallen walls of education are given to decay;
Our heads buried in panadol,
As we must calculate energy and matter,
Please let not Einstein delay;
And should mercy be relayed,
Pythagoras has left us in a fight by his unfinished will,
Send him back to give us a say
And toss us through vertices like rays.
How can they learn the joy of persistence
Shouldn't Lincoln show his face.
This is a dead end, an end there be!
© Abel John 2011
