Dusting Off the Kingdom

I kissed the bed bye With a dusty blipping lip I couldn’t dust off with water For dusting the dust off my body Means to be in love with night Cold chilling breeze in “Ibadan”. With dust all over me Woke up only to yawn of dust With it still casing me all over I sneeze and breathe of it endlessly. Why pretending to dusting the dust? For everywhere is full of dust. Our road is the king of dust We eat and drink of it . . . dust Nose and mind of all full of dust We live in the kingdom made off dust. When is it of a day when the road Will be dusted off its dust? When it shall vamoose off our rooms When it shall zoom off our kingdom Its time to dust them off our kingdom The few ruling cabals dusting hunger on us Blinking with bleak shall our future be no more For we shall dust off fear and dust them off . . . 15th August 2006 12.58am. On my way from Ibadan, conceptualized from the perspective Of the dust we are daily battling with in Samonda, Ibadan.