The People of State with fettered willpower,
Can only exert authority on the lowly and weak,
Deriving power by force,
And wailing by right of entitlement.

Our voices will be heard,
Your handmade fences can't stop us,
You may come with your galactic force,
But our will cut through your thick head.

Can't take it all in!
Too enormous to handle,
If you must ram your bundle,
Then slide the **** thing!

Those that scrutinise can't do,
Wishing it was theirs,
Even when I poo,
They point out their worst fears.

So, wha' if I got dark pigments,
And my melanin be poppin'?
Hey, 'taint yo' business if my ancestors swung from branches,
Remember, they got bruised and violated, tending yo' **** ranches.

Clad in me best attire,
Of the finest spun wool,
Dressed in nothing to inspire,
Nothing but a golden fool.

Over two hundred girls many moons ago,
Then over one hundred in the same vein,
While the politics of stupidity serenades their incompetence,
Beer parlour intellectualism fingers the minds of the many keyboard warriors.

Holding the bundle of joy,
Swaddled in my mother's wrapper,
Only one though came to mind,
Father of a daughter, me? Goodness!

It thus happened upon us,
That fate be kind,
Crowning our heads,
With men of authority;

Many be angry with us,
That we ride in treated vehicles,
Chauffeured by armed guards,
And dining with golden spoons;

But they close their minds,
To the ways of the gods,
That bestow opulence,
Unto whom they so please.

I'm gonna remain like this,
Rooted in this magic space,
Life has happened, once more,
A total gift wrapped in sweetness.

Shifting undercurrent,
Mecurial disposition,
Flippant opposition,
Message to incumbent.

On this dark road,
Would you ride with me?
Even if fears raised questions,
Would your confidence shut them up?

On this lifelong journey,
We're a love in progress,
Thanks for this engaging process,
Of deeply and rewarding unfolding story.

But for no fault of theirs,
Left to circumstances around them,
Shaped by influences that took 'em in,
Ultimately cast into mold of ne'er-do-wells;

Backs turned on reason,
Facing a life of cold embraces,
No warm meals,
Bondless, mere statistic;

They have chosen the path,
To pay in misery's kind,
Dish out as much,
Leave them a taste of they got;

This is the language of their existence,
To engage in violent agitation,
Disobedience pays living stipend,
Opulent lifestyle funded by militancy.

Hello cookie,
Can I taste your honey?
Hmmmm...like heaven,
Please, can I die here?

Beggars they are, huddled by the guardrail,
As headlamps make out their shriveled forms,
They have never known love, less brail,
Their fate is one of many norms;

Day and night they are led by children,
Life's gifts wallowing in misery and abandonment,
Left to uncertain fate, will never know a pen,
These ones daily embrace scorn and raging disappointment;

So the six blind women,
All from the north,
Summarise our homegrown problem,
Everything we are, everything we are not.

Everyone wrote me off,
They said I wasn't tough,
Enough to make anything work,
They forgot I didn't need their luck.

In the town of blind fools,
The one eyed idiot may rule,
In a country of perpetual nincompoops,
The lifeless buffoon will reign.

This bridge cannot stand between our love,
I'll take up wings from above,
Run as far as my heart can take me,
Because with you is where I'd rather be.

The silent screams of the grave,
Crying for justice,
From equinox to solstice,
Deafening howls that mere prayers cannot stave.

Oh, what disappointment!
To get to  my destination,
And you quit on me,
You have abandoned me;

Baffles me, truly, it does,
Out here in the cold,
Alone, with the elements for cover,
To have believed you, my lover;

Tears deeply into my recesses,
A place devoted for worship,
Sanctified only for you,
But now, what will I do?

The older woman smiled,
As I was seated at work,
"You remind me of my father,"
"Your receeding hair's beautiful."

Too many bright ones roam the streets in hungry frustration,
Locked out of opportunities to earn rich places in history,
This is the heartbreaking and mournful story,
Of rottenness and backwardness of a failing, contrived nation.

Yellow, hugging dark recesses,
Sold to impoverishment and lack,
Praying daily for nemesis,
Never willing to take the knife by the jack.

This land flows with blood and tears,
And for a million years,
Vampires and gremlins,
Make love to werewolves and cretins.

The beast taketh were it hath not tilleth,
And by force establishes his colonies,
He set his eyes on southern territories,
And will drink and bathe in the bloods of dogs and baboons that he killeth.

No! Not by any measure!
All of that for their pleasure?!
People wake up, please?!
The State is not at ease;

Easy targets, very easy,
Abducted by pampered terrorists,
Dismembered by bloodthirsty ritualists,
Everyday people, under siege;

But they sit in lofty places,
Make a lot of faces,
Trod on the rights of others,
And give frivolous orders;

Simpletons turn on simpletons,
Coconut heads that know nothing,
Get in useless arguments,
Over senseless debasements;

Get serious, people!
Do not treat as fickle,
Encourage not their gluttony,
Worse, much, than capital felony.

As worthless as it becomes,
Increasingly is hard to get,
The struggles of stable incomes,
Stacked against the failed goals set.

Whence art thine brownskin cast?
Down to the pits of ignominy and scorn,
Isn't thine form after the divine's?
And portions of glory adorning thine existence?

So, why play the fool,
To they that once were savage,
Whose history is replete with blood,
And orgied in the corpses of hunched maidens?

The alignment of the stars, today,
Shall be in your favour, all the way,
Creating a shining path, for you,
To live, blossom and remain blessed, all through.

Concocted tribal maligning,
Romancing the victim's mentality,
Handed down hatred, bigotry,
Caught, now, in their own dystopia.

Let's show some flesh,
Some treats here, no ******* please!
Cover that crotch, O.K!
A little buttcrack will be fine;

It's a crazier world,
To get attention, go all out,
To break the superhighway,
Bring on the whole nine!

Unfit women deliver,
Babies to be sold,
Into any fold,
Just for some paper.

Garri and groundnut issues,
Nonsensical palaver,
But what's the matter,
With eggheads pretending not to be coconut heads?

Wash away my longing,
But steam me first,
Dry me on the bedding,
Then quench my thirst.

Why work ever so hard,
For what, really,
All year round vacation to the ends of the earth,
Or a fleet of never before driven, custom, rare wheels?

In the security of a bubble,
The might of the lowly breeze blows trouble,
Carrying with it ominous foretelling,
Of when things draw closely to a foreboding close.

Get,
Out,
And,
Try!

We think hate, rather,
Than love, toward,
The fellow human, who,
Should not think otherwise.

Seated on very high places,
The untouchable ones,
Unseen by the blindfolded bearer,
Of delayed unequal decisions.

Knowing that people expect,
You to fail should but only,
Spur you to earn pleasing respect,
And shock then into eternal shame, truly.

The virulent untruth they implanted,
Brainwashed by virulent balderdash,
The greatest mendacity they sold,
Topped, only, by this blatant lie they preached;

After the caucasians had their field day,
Enjoyed their time balkanising the dark continent,
They left them a germ, a true trojan demon,
Couched in the halos of a heavenly mission.

No oils, no reds or monounsaturated fat,
Lean everything, nothing but water,
But death's bike couldn't bother,
Running you over right outside your flat.

But the rats still give a fuss,
Vermins in defiant show of force,
Too fat to lift a paw,
Did you manicure that claw?

So she changed tactic,
Rather than engage in fisticuffs,
She allowed her mascara flow into it,
Taking all her emotions downhill;

And from there all defenses shrunk,
The room fell silent, you could hear an atom rub itself,
Done acting her part like a diva,
Everyone took turns blaming one another.

When baby chews feet,
In all its flexibility,
Then I marvel at my inability,
To replicate this simple feat.

Between the hours of wee and dawn,
Many a reveler throng,
The house that party built,
To mad in the jolly new year.

Twenty-two and one ball,
Green spread, markings of white,
Netted uprights joined by a bar,
Dizzying delight of moments of brilliance.

The story of the broom and the umbrella,
Has her children in fives and eights,
The difference is much the same,
A love encounter everybody hates.

There is no one like Hadassah to me,
No matter how pretty she may be,
I have won the only place in her heart,
Where only death can do us 'part.