As the sun continues to perform the
magic of rebirth
Reincarnating its glory from the womb of
west
So the clamor continues to beget many
fruit of agony
For the fate of a puzzled nation
Eclipsed underneath the feet of moribund
mute
As day and night continue to stage the
drama of wonder
Exchanging baton of their planery
miracle in row
So the nation continues to dwindle in
tumult and panic
Like the mead hall of Hrothgar empire
The panic of who will bear the witness
of next daybreak
Before the red-eyed dagger of onslaught,
The tumult of pauperdom and want
Spread across the nation like gospel of
foreign crusader
Through the trickeries of butchers, Alapata Apata
Living at the extreme end of
slaughterhouse,
A mammoth skyscraper of blood called ass-hole-rock.
Gbogi, since your departure to the land
of Queen
The message of your sermon still
permeates
Into the rigid ribcage of the nation
It rings bell like warning of Noah
White-bearded old man who summoned his
people
Against their sins in the court of
contrition
The message of your cry
remains (more) limpid
But for the story of your
land to remain the same
Tyranny has clad in regalia
of arrogance
Riding on the spinal cord of
the nation like horse
III
Gbogi, good time stands
aloof in pity looking crestfallen
It fails to come like second
coming of Jesus
All what left to write about
in the kwashiorkored diary
Of our puzzled state is busy
history held in confusion
By the xenoglossy of
political liars
We are left at the cross
road like clueless voyagers
Like strangers in the land of our birth
And we start asking the
question "what are we here for?"
