Oh no, it is not right
To side with an ordinance
Contrary to the divine words,
For the Gods of thy destiny is jealous
Over thy new found ego-Gods,
Thou slept as a great hero
And awoke as a dead wretched coward,
Thy gilt could not taste the indefinite
Wisdom from the ancestors for long,
May be, the libation poured
On thy blessed eighth day
Could not please the Gods of thy destiny,
Thou have lifted up thy wicked hands
Against the children of heaven,
And thou shall never escape
The judgment of Tweaduampon Kwame,
And any attempt to exculpate thyself
Shall outcry thy destruction,
Why, has the executioner received
Thy death warrant from the council of elders?
The ruler of the city of the dead
Is stirred up with delight
To welcome thee into his kingdom,
The worms and termites
Shall be thy bedspread and pillow,
The sea behind thy house,
Yarns for they salt,
For how shall he be clean,
He who is defiled with blood and slaughter,
By the polluted lapse of denial,
And who is stained by so great an evil?
Oh, see how thou have become
A spectacle to the sparrows,
The floods are now clothed in the
Official dress of the raven,
Causing the volcanic mountains over the
Eastern hills to weep over thy transfiguration,
For thy sacred calico has been
Stained with malice and destruction,
Amazingly, the rooster has accepted
To crow only at noonday,
Whilst the dawn has also refused
Contact with the daylight,
Now, let the lazy sleeping lion
Dream of infinite terror and disaster,
Oh yes, mighty lion, the clouds
Of Nigeria will not hold together,
Until thy woes are emptied in fear and tears.
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 5:59 AM UTC
Oh no, it is not right
To side with an ordinance
Contrary to the divine words,
For the Gods of thy destiny is jealous
Over thy new found ego-Gods,
Thou slept as a great hero
And awoke as a dead wretched coward,
Thy gilt could not taste the indefinite
Wisdom from the ancestors for long,
May be, the libation poured
On thy blessed eighth day
Could not please the Gods of thy destiny,
Thou have lifted up thy wicked hands
Against the children of heaven,
And thou shall never escape
The judgment of Tweaduampon Kwame,
And any attempt to exculpate thyself
Shall outcry thy destruction,
Why, has the executioner received
Thy death warrant from the council of elders?
The ruler of the city of the dead
Is stirred up with delight
To welcome thee into his kingdom,
The worms and termites
Shall be thy bedspread and pillow,
The sea behind thy house,
Yarns for they salt,
For how shall he be clean,
He who is defiled with blood and slaughter,
By the polluted lapse of denial,
And who is stained by so great an evil?
Oh, see how thou have become
A spectacle to the sparrows,
The floods are now clothed in the
Official dress of the raven,
Causing the volcanic mountains over the
Eastern hills to weep over thy transfiguration,
For thy sacred calico has been
Stained with malice and destruction,
Amazingly, the rooster has accepted
To crow only at noonday,
Whilst the dawn has also refused
Contact with the daylight,
Now, let the lazy sleeping lion
Dream of infinite terror and disaster,
Oh yes, mighty lion, the clouds
Of Nigeria will not hold together,
Until thy woes are emptied in fear and tears.
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
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