THE CRY OF A BLACK NIGERIA
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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</script>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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</script>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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</script>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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