Monday, 20 March 2017
SUMMARY of War and Natural events in Nigeria
With many never undergone, they were so unaware that only one
Could hide those sharp evil piles to extinct, and give the
Gone lives to life. Stunned to see faces of
Carcasses in their regalia of white humility, those that
Accumulated as tall snowdrifts,
Tardily ascending their last possession of unlubricated smiles
Casted into half souls. Gently knit for the offspring of holy skein,
And our arrears of petitions to god to the joy of mantis ahead.
Little before then, some white stones and cichlids were left behind,
In galleys, they held there beehive round, chatty men, the gone
Mouth of mores, humanoid beings, losing their footing to Hades,
And some attempted to question, halt, for fear they could join
The end from the staggering onset. But yet, their whorls
On beans and bullets. As it were.
My previous here in Africa, my fore-mothers in the system
Could seldom saw trails and hand-writings on the sky’s wall
But dropping several nothing here, happy though.
My great-grandmother said she saw them during her
Psalmodies of spells in shrines.
Some added prayers of bored wimples in the cloister,
Of priest adewolie for a well-dressed benefice,
And the humble preaching souls of monastery.
Independent of attack of antlers by tall, water by waterspout,
And the baleens of blissful humpback whales.
Bathing extra carefully as if the ocean was filled
With smithereens of glassy splinters. Brielle in minds of
Some living algae, (even when those woes are still raining fire
And brimstones on humanity) and levitating red unknown.
Covered carapace looking like anchor wrecks in the depth of
Watery echoes – a maze for those tallow clothed.
Actors of the cacophonies would rote in imperfect synchrony, with their respective
Pseudonym, written from beaks as Nillyhumer, Mlyrie, Featherangel and Billybhurd,
Annulling the horrors of wars, and nectars were the victor ledger.
Coliforms in squad of Silver, Kanu , Eto and camara,
Swimming the soul to cholera named as grains of arrogant aquifers, mulishly refusing
To mix. Things like bushwhacking snail trailing there brown friends
While hiding and raising their eyes, leading their hump of shell as
They prowl for the lobby of crummy foliage.
Then, I will add some few more lines in millions
To this piece, as my news summary of a hundred years.