Golden Fleece
Pumping through the boundaries
like water out of a burst pipe
they go beyond
in search of that golden fleece.
Leaving the yam and millet
In hands of ''intellectual weaklings".
Deserting their muddy palaces
Resorting to restrooms yonder
Good hands seasoned for hoes
now tremble at the feel of paltry foreign notes.
It's where ice-cream falls from the sky.
So they say.
Here the soil is "too brown".
They set the stone abroad for those
lofty buildings
and leave to fall their homes.
The fences crumbling
like dry crumbs of bread.
And years later,they return.
Those with the golden fleece
come with an arrogant streak.
Clad in suits and hats.
Muttering incoherencies from their mouth
Or was it their nose?
Disillusion evident in their "four eyes".
Wriggling out of their "below-par" Papa's
"peppering" embrace.
Those whose search plummeted
rush back to their roots
like bee to nectar.
Tears in their vanquished eyes.
They cling to their oldies
smelling the smell of home
with as much relief as finding an oasis.
Then,they are treated
to
a prodigal son's feast.
Pounded yam,goat head
and the likes.
Then,they ravish the lot
punctuating with
musical belches.
Then,they wallow in
the warmth
whilst singing
'home,sweet home'
For tomorrow,
work begins on
homefront
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