Steam of life puffing up
from a cute little old cup
With this hot stream flowing within,
my head stops spinning like rollercoaster.

In this coloured hot flow
lies life oozing  blends that builds
the aroma of fertility
crafted in nature's womb

Death,
why art thou so clean like pigs in mire
why stoop so high to take away babes
thrown away like the trash of trash
left to be cuddled by dirt
awaiting your cold verdict?

Death,
Art thou now dead?
Why canst thou ****** murderers before their murderings?
Art thou now at two a penny?
How long will you dance to the  cold blooded tunes of the wolves in southern Kaduna?
Art thou no mind of your own?
O poor man!
For once liberate thyself from the whims of the wicked
else, I shall resolve that thou art died.

The midnight is snail.
It is time for time
to take her time
this time of the time.

Like a wounded thunder
calvary roars how low
the son of man had stooped
that men would live far
above the world, sin and death

While breathers of all shades savour your ray
You bear the pain as if in labour

As you bleed like a wild dam
We are as birds cruising in the sky

In your swift dripping departure
Lies the glowing of man's abode.

As He is
He sees
And He ease
Prince of peace
He is
He shields
From the deeps
He is He
The one who heals

We see the wrongs
Yet swim along

We hear blunders
Yet not bothered

We feel the harm
Yet no alarm

We see scapegoats
Yet sell the votes

See what folded arms has done
Are we not undone?