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Transition

We are travellers on this terrestial plane
where acorns are consumed in tinder season 
oaks fell by angry hurricane 
robust iroko mowed by lumbers greedy saw 
haughty araba viciously murdered for standing 
on progress impatient path
omo succulent  spine constantly curry 
carver's merciless scythe
okere's throaty tunes ricochets in the hunters pot
flaccid bellies beat rumbling rhytm 
like agba drum on festival day
but turgid tummies growl like hungry hounds
bamboos nubile wist receive romantic thrust of 
amorous wind 
while obeche lay immobile on agbegilodos sturdy spine
                                  
                             Uncle Tunji and Demola,siamized brethens,your drum
                             slit in mid-throb,when feets gathered for cerebral dance of 
                             consummation,the beat stilled by scarlet thread  of filial tyranny
                              on muted noon,your blood, a libation on their carvenous 
                              conscience,you raced to eternity,chasing hopes elusive light 
                               on our treacherous terrain,your tender spine succumbed 
                               sheepishly to their thirsty canine........................................

Musa,mauled in march after 
the rigours of planting when harvest scent 
fill the senses with delirious pleasure and 
crunchy taste of sweat intoxicate the 
mind,you were consumed in the hurricane of hatred 
ignited by your passionate quest the  for the light in this 
mythic maze,your magnetic mien attracted  envious arrows 
another scalp in their wicked pouch.............................................

                                Dayo,a rippening fruit that attract envious 
                                glance from salivating labial
                                 dangling on the crest of lolling waves 
                                 plunged into
                                  ancient gullet of seductive lips....................
Never again the tender hand that coerce comfort 
into troubled spine,nor warmth to fan assurances 
of reality into doubting souls,no more soft words from
your unending brook of care, 
no more the listening lobe sifting through our ton of worries
no canopy to shade our earth from the scorge of merciless 
sun............................................................................................................................

Copyright © | Year Posted 2006




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