OBSEQUIES
(…for the 1st of October.)
When shall the guns be sounded?
When shall we rip the skies open?
With over-ripened voices of our elegies…
When shall the guns be sounded?
For the earth to take our ritual tears.
When shall we start the funeral rites?
Of those clueless men that sit at the market square
Encircled by legion of flying flies
Strands of mucus adorned their greedy noses
When shall we sound the guns?
For the demise of these insatiable tummies…
When shall we …
Put this Stockholm Syndrome to a final rest
When shall the funeral hymns be sung?
The pallbearers of this insanity
Are on the verge of sleeping with the dead…
Oluwo, wake up from thy slumber
Ain’t you the priest that gnaws on the tiger’s voice?
The people have come begging at your feet
The smelliness of these decaying corpses
Is choking the living to death…
Here is the sacrificial hen;
The Thurible is awaiting your sacred incense
The initiate-filled procession is on the road of change
Waiting and waiting for your start-up chant.
Plagues have rained silence on our people
And our wildest cries could not be heard.
Starved hopes;
Our people are feeding on starved hopes
When shall the guns be sounded?
For the banishment of insanity…
Our people are over fed with starved hopes;
Waiting for the conditional coming of the dawn…
passionAte POETRY
OREDOLA IBRAHIM
(07061282516)
©2014
