When mother AFRICA lamented through the mind of Nigeria on
how bad things had
gone in this country.
Light breath, that
which synthesizes our thoughts here,
I thought about, again
and again and again till watery still,
Thereby, permitting my
thoughts to flow omnidirectionally, with this,
My never thought
crawled into my brain, but was confused amidst
My whale of thought. Penultimatly,
those thoughts
Rose as a lengthy loop to the top of my
thought chain.
Neatly dressed in our
coat of arm is breathtaking sorrow,
Ridding that know
stallion in the coat of harm are scrawny ideas – seamy I must confess.
Whinnying woes, red
and black, gaiting plagues, red and black, and drowning
Lives in the ocean of
azure calamity.
Our neighbouring sons
of father kofi, back to inhale the white vapours of Lake Volta.
Please mother Ghana,
forgive us for 1983’s “Ghana must go”.
Even though I was an
aspiring foetus then.
Sinuous pates,
spreading poverty like dusts in the wilderness of cyclones.
Sadly, some of these
riders live in brains akin to that of a kind misanthropist.
This giant in the moon,
now a worm in the blinds of abyss,
Or just a paper tiger.
The flock of our
foremothers, having shepherds with
Rods of pretty green
vipers, tendering them to
The land of lions, brucellosis and dingoes.
Leading some to Hades
and others for gibbet show
Tormenting “villains”
with horrors
Of brimstone for
breathing as inhabitants,
But never to die even
in the valley of Hinnom.
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