The tables have turned,
The ties that bind,
Were twisted and torn to shreds.
Up came the heat
Through the cracks in the streets
Red from the bankers we've bled.
Steeped in tradition our teeth are all missing. We drink from  Belly of the beast.

In the streets of Delhi advertised on every sign,
Is the British army’s need for you to buy buy buy.
It may cost your turban, your home your family, and the worn clothes.
But it’s for the greater good right? of the empire of them ‘s and those.

When you pass the gender and notice his cracked lips,
And coughing and dying son,
You feel sympathy as you would for anyone.
But you can parch him as your son cant starve too,
And that’s just the law of the untouchable that are below you.

Despite your status being not much better,
You walk a stranger to their leering eyes,
As you were the clean white sashes and ties,
But they don’t realise the shackles you are also in.
As the phrase goes that you see on all the ads.

“You can’t make your own confections,
You can’t save your own possessions,
You can’t even built out of your own wood,
Because for the good of the empire of the greater good,
You will serve to pay the fees that are higher than you can afford to do.”

When you think of that as you walk these deep streets you can’t help walking in a way of shame,
As you know you can’t blame these overlords,
But the submissions and laws of old,
That they stole and now uphold.
Never to be loss of my shackles,
I pass these streets, and go on to Mumbai for the next delivery meet.

I came down twice today dancing on the edge of a sun ray smiling higher and wider than the sky upon a sunday. I was warm like summer sun as I ran streaming through the night high upon a horse they called him piercing light.
We danced along the winding Trail searching for the sea.
Bounding through the Morning Light tasting the salty Breeze.
I met a strange old friend down there along the sandy beach wandering through the morning surf staring at his feet.
He invited me to his home a beautiful beach abode.
Offered me a Drink of wine and a toadstool that he'd grown.
I ate the cap took a drink followed him on down.
He stole my face and sung a song there was laughing all around.
He pulled his guitar strummed along  said it was the solution.
grew a grin upon his face and named it revolution.
He belted on about a day when we could find that space a little bit of Ambience to call my sweet relief.
He claimed that he knew a way to live a life in peace.
Pull the plug and disconnect no relying on the Beast.
We must sail away from here from the shores we know take a trip on past the waves beyond the ebb and flow.
Danger dancing on the Bow we mustn't turn the ship impale the evil through the heart as fire burns with left.
These ****** old evil doers will be the death of us all.
If we don't take a stand and fight until they fall.

The country is in  limbo
While the rulers stand with hands akimbo
And many citizens are confused like bingo.

There's need for we citizens to make hay
Now it's day
So we can have a say
And live not in dismay.

Today, in our nation
It seems corruption
Is now the option.

We must take an action
To stop this stagnation
From messing up our civilization.

Can someone lead us in a direction
that can get our nation
Out of this cloudy confusion?

From my observation
Many are in frustration
And have taken the situation
As their final conclusion.

I make a confession
That I see a counter motion
That will shatter the ugly configuration
And lead us into positive progression
In this nation

Can you do same visualization
And make positive confession
So that with inspiration, aspiration and perspiration
We redeem the image and glory of this nation?

© Ifeanyi Enoch Onuoha

Desolate land,
Grasses once green, trees stood taller,
Empty streets, bereaved seas.

Once full of men ambitious,
Dreamers of better futures,
Seeing beyond horizons.

Desolate land,
Consumed inhabitants,
Cries for freedom,
Her children created the havoc,
Her soldiers bore the ruins.

Desolate land,
Once home to many,
High walls,
Guarded cities.

Now the streets are empty,
The wind hollers a dreary tune,
Life existing, in quiet resonance

What went wrong?

The earth swallowed up her children,
For they did not err to the warnings of mother nature, seeing the but signs looking away,
I hate to be the one who speaks of  such doom.

Alas! A man is found,
Torn and beaten yet surviving,
Surely all wasn't lost in the end.

Desolate land revived again,
What seemed like destruction,
Was man's preservation.

an idea blows
across a global garden
cities shake like leaves

And yet I don’t seem to remember
that anyone wished for District Five
not to have exploded the dam
that lit the Capitol’s lights.
I don’t seem to recall people
buying the tale that the police
were keeping any peace.
We were not given the mirror
to look at ourselves and say
"no, that’s not me."