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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Gather your woeful garments Move towards the sick slain valley With a blank eyes of hot tears List out the corrupted coroneted woes Table the names of those massacred by Bokos, filter the good from the bad until you bleed. Write down the money stolen by the leaders unwrap the bubbles of ill-luck among the abandoned youths Remember those naked children disappointed By their fathers before their own very sweet eyes Dance the warship silence of dead soldiers laid Hopelessly at the battle field with no weapon. Forget who you are in the future of the past, Birth grief through your watery stressed nose. Silence is not empty but has many answers Carve your tears in the pages of the history Till the land of embezzlement in the north Expose the cry at the south with the ripped sky Then move to the east with scream of Biafra The west must be given enough meat to dine. Look not for peace that shot at the stream Say pain, say tears, say sorrow; scatter the ground With an empty threat within the Eagle's flight, Even if the abundance of your country remains In the cleavages of your immoral voice, cry loud. Say what matters, what hurts, what kills What dies, what never stay like Ogbanje, The sky holds more, the earth need more; More than the bottled dreams, grandpa made us fools, Let your ailment starts like a night dance, You are your own tomorrow, our eyes to see. Before the day our lids shall close from a Crack of a concrete land buried yet living. Gather yourself and mourn without emotions, We will no longer look for the hand that held the sword yesterday, roars louder than the lion; We'll uphold the fragment of your sparkled tears. (C) John Chizoba Vincent Voice Of Vincent 2016
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