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Poem

COme with me to the
shrine
Let us deliberate on
the plight
Of our beloved
country
The gods are waiting
to hear from us.
Here is your sit,
face me so that 
I could watch over
you head and you
Watch over mine so
that we 
Could protect each
other from the
terrorist
Who might throw a
heavy orange on us.
I heard what
happened recently.
I heard it also but
very brief from a
gossip.
Is it true that over
two hundred pretty
girls were
Abducted in the
country and every
one had been
wailing?
Yes, so i heard
also, even the
people went on
protest 
all over the world.
The first lady of
the country also
cried.
Then which pretty
girls are left for
our children to
marry?
Amadioha knows best.
I also heard of the
kidnapping going on
here and there,
The bloody arena
which was discovered
at Ibadan.
I heard of the
ritualist caught red
handed by the
police.
They confessed that
the political
animals sent them.
My dear, what is
going on in this
country?
Who is who in this
country?
Why are we like this
brother?
Is the president
working at all?
Is the security men
asleep, who are we
to blame?
We have a lot to do
in this beautiful
yet cruel land 
Before we all become
slave in our
fatherland.
Perhaps its start
from me and you to
redefine 
The cultural and
traditional value of
our beloved country.
When faces are no
more faces we can
make them face off.
We can carry on the
good legacy to the
dark kettle
But remind the pot
of change to come.
Put off the burning
sweating candle 
Make it known that
there is nothing as
constant as change.
We could be mad, mad
in the bloody street

Yet our madness will
never make us
insane.
To over look the
insecurity in our
system
We hope no more but
hope for our hope to
come
With the unaborted
dreams of a better
country.

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