THE CRY OF A BLACK NIGERIA

 THE CRY OF A BLACK NIGERIA

  Poem by Saviour Willie

Posted on 7 November 2020




i


My mother says she love me

And waits the best for me

She promise not to deny me

Even though ball falls from the moon


I was thirteen 

Lived under muddy shade

Pride of a broad swollen breast

That turns his eyes

To my chest suit

Walking like a President daughter

On biased slaughtering streets

Where blood freely spilt 


My mother wrote me a psalm

About my great self

I read and sang:

My breast are apples in his eyes

Made of cowlick milk and crowding floods

And my ass like swinging pendulum

And in the wings of time

When the cinnamon fruit is fully ripe

And the tares ears are deaf

He will pluck to lick


ii

My mother said

I have a solemn future ahead

That slept on her hearts for miles

Shaped by the ledgers of clasps

He lives in California

But his parents in the blinding depth of the ocean

I read, 

Forget the eyes that watches 

To their cries, to their wild recourse

Just as the rain falls in icicle

Today are pregnant clouds





I met a dream off my bed

A wooden vulture screaming like a wild tortoise

The Furam dance round the gulf

Some hands dab 

Ambling a bloody Brook

Behind the scene

A torture of modern beast 

Hails the intervening gods


I heard again

My name raised aloud

And myself found 

A blazing shock in both hands

Blowing a sadden psaltery

A fear of imminent

Ran into my physical body


My physical eyes weep

Protruded as if myself was tampered

The beast clothe me

With blurred cray fabric

And forced me to lay

On the tomb of soweto

Oh, I was the Isaac

Waiting in futile for the ram in the truck


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No the gods must be crazy, yes are;

For these impenitent lapses

That must hold tight

Like December wedding ash

A threat to African Nights




How the howls and screams of eighties

Belch out devil's with blood dark foggy eyes

For against the pastures of luminescence city

Beneath a crack wall

Thousands weep and mother's

Saw a flameless heaven

But realization was yet to come


A boy stood agog

Pursued by one tired eloquent dog

Behind the crack wall

Where the Jericodian had melt

Sing about freedom

The Furam that captures the children's bread

Sing about oneness

The trade and shackles that tides one together

Sing about equality

A pleasure boats

That sailed on the fair fluid

Of aching minds

Till morning swallowed us all

His song is long-lived derelict

But realization was yet to come



iii

My mother were curtained in mist of woe;

With a Kerchief of enzyme

When she pasted her ear to the breeze

Of God's acre

And tasted the spice of agonize 

On my bubbling ache stomach


Only the Strikes

Will revive the woe of my mother

But fear my people do not understand

Shaped Africans clumsy voices

Brittle a parrot hub

Wrap mortal souls in ashen

Like swollen smells into 

chared earth



I am the fatality

Kept under fix surveillance

My soul sprawling breast engirdle in stew 

Every nights I am  cornered

Like an ambient quagmire

When the modern beast is out of sight

By the foggy eyes 

Fretting  at my ballerina


My mother tried 

To wake my flesh but I'm weak

My feet like two mound

Sprawl like a defunct man on bed

My mother sweep over my cheeks

Where the flag of my beauty sprung

Mark it with her fingers

Which have loved me

In the presence of my bedraggled enemies


My mother said

In a crinkle tongue

Her tears bleed noisily

I am going to make on your right arm

A furtive hurt you will never disremember

Which will reminds you today


Some Pride-dumbed men indisputably

Walk into my cell

My mother stares into their eyes

To convey the concrete prediction

Of the wild sun upon the muddy

But at the same time

The flesh is imagined 

As regaining the power of breathing



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Nigeria!

Has ceased to be Nigeria

The Cockaigne of prejudice

Nigeria!!

Has ceased to be Nigeria

The Pharaonic of multitudinous commonwealth

Nigeria!!!

Has ceased to be Nigeria

The hearth-stone of  non-native blacks

Nigeria!!!!

Is become an array of torture and melancholy

She has become a prey

For hungry Napoleon




iv

I watch the crowding underling faces

Making their way to Leadership quarter

At their toes

The children dreams are napping

All their wishes made dust

The children's blood lollygag along the boulevard, 

Mingled with blood of massacre

Yet none is considered a nationalist.


My mother said

Nigeria need storms that troubled bad eggs

To sustain the concession of the wield nights

When the rain comes with an outcry


The falling snows

Is like a conventional rain

Coming down to sweep

My hearts at razor-edge


It walk round a clock

To check lifeless leaves with steel hearts 

Shadowed by whispering in fright

When the later cloudburst sun drizzles

In soweto

My heart melts

Everyone a porridge face

For it was now time

To let my psyche burn

And my blood flows

Into the Furam ground


Suddenly everyone stared at the light

Which echoed their ferocious moods

As if the stout-hearted soldiers 

In a bark dance

Would exorcise their gathered charm

And make their bodies illuminate and grow

With firebrand Lion-tear and snake-bites


Because for the nights

Strong bones fully nurtured

Stands to contrast pressure

On countless forms of viscosity

Cake up by sanguine politicians

With black-dot squint eyes and fibroid face

Of oppressive regimes



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My mother said

When she was at the center of advancement

How fortunes old breeze

Attributed to the curvature of invocation

Gave a lengthen lips of love

But the memory of sinking canoe

Cracks the husk of the mind

With striking interweaving anger

Then a babel of illusion

rise sadly into the atmosphere

Like a moving rockets

And the curling black smoke

appears where the fortune stood

Then simmering force

Stack in the re-enacts morgue dive away the fortunes


My mother traverse all the land

Explore all her lurk-ban with zest

Disdaining those who impose Bad-luck

And braced against the Saracens

Gathering to perch on her pregnant clouds


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