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HAPPINESS DOESN'T LIVE HERE

The man who shits on a bush track might forget the spot,
But the man who plunged his legs into the feces won't,
Any time he gets to the spot he remembers that
An idiot had left his home training behind.

You've planted a tree of memory in our hearts,
Evergreen like the ugwu in rainy seasons.
This storm you have caused has plunge our roofs into the river,
And though conscience may sting; a bad deed cannot be turned.

Today we look at our children with withered hopes,
The premature maturity learned through hardship,
And the handwriting of ill-parentage screaming
From the depth of their souls as we dare not complain -

Knowing together we held the shovel that dug
The grave in which their future would be buried in.
Bankruptcy is the Bank in which our future is saved,
Insolvency an economic watermark.

Tinubu, you sold your people for a Penny,
Replacing their yam storages with cow dung.
Nowadays we panic when the early cocks crow
Because the children have nothing to eat our hearts throb.

Sowore the fire you aided sets you ablaze
The dry Sahara desert wind that sucks our blood,
Two-edged like a dagger, some leeches are not Black,
The sort of matter the Sahara does not report.

Let all the dogs wag their tails in front of their owners,
Samuel Walter is every dog owners dream.
Let the dogs return to their human feces
They can't bark with a Whip in his hand.

A husband who owns no farms tend the babies;
Imperialism is the cancer that eats our breasts.
These foreign gods have no potency they all know,
Until we can return to the culture they all fear-

Take that Bible from their hands in court, let them swear
Before Ogun and Amadioha in the shrines
Where even the priests can't dare eat yam with palm oil,
Let them swear to Sango over the stolen funds.

They dare not, they'll rather connive with Oyedepo
And Co in National fasting and Prayers
Whose only miracle develop legs that carry
Millions of naira out of the National Treasury.

Buhari is a Barbarian in Revolution.
The thing is like fetching water with baskets,
Because these men switch khakis to Agbada
And think it a starched uniform for Demokrasi.

Look at the face of this society in one big art,
Repainted by an unrepentant painter;
Happiness doesn't live here... and it doesn't visit
It is scared the heights are too high for it to perch.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
The Poem is a Mirror of the present Nigerian Society and a Symbol of the African political sphere seen from the point of view of of a sad citizen. FOOTNOTES: Igwu - Fluted Pumpkin Ogun - The Yoruba god of iron and war (notorious for killing faster than poison when summoned over injustice) Amadioha - A powerful Igbo god Sango - The ill tempered god of Fire, thunder and lightening. Demokrasi - a pun for Democracy coined from a Yoruba phrase 'Demó' (meaning a taunting play) and the pidgin English' 'crase' (meaning madness).
Editing stage: 

Comments

It is a pleasure to be able to read of the lives of others.
Even though their lives are covered in badness and strife
You have recorded it with a great write Thank you.
Yours as always, Ian

Words can build a nation

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