Under this sighing moon did we gather beliefs
Into the howling calabash of whirling Western Culture,
Which left splashes of abnormalities on our faces,
After piles of tainted tales struck the surface of nature.
Mama’s wrappers traded honour in the market of tradition
Where moderation is the price tagged on fashion.
Ajala,papa’s ‘kembe’ never wandered below his waist,
So, why is yours throwing papa’s lessons into hollows of regret?
Abike, the pride that stained the White Cloth with virginity,
I revere your being like the dignity appeasing holiness.
But Ada, why have you allowed luxury dig you so deeply
That fortune keeps leaking on the futility surfaced by blunt desires?
Asake, why sprinkle thorny worries around our robust clan?
Why Africa, Africa why?
Why arise to the pleasant call of nature with rags as response
To its gong which drags our existence closer to the river of shame?
Why allow civilization spray derision into the air
After norms turned tatters before memories came so near,
Where values already found solace on the dying palm tree
Which disgorges nudity like dew on femininity to brag about with glee?
Now, gather the drummers at the palace of thoughts,
Where beats of chastity is what consumes our hungry hearts
With the crunches of resounding caution ‘s appetite,
Placing meal of virtues on these starving scrotums.
Pierce us with chants of revival at life’s gasping shore,
For our breath to sail on the rhythms of normalcy.
Then, prosperity would beckon with her echoing viability,
Even in the veins of the unborn with serenity as their cells.
Kembe – a type of big-sized trouser worn by fathers in the olden days
Abike, Ajala, Ada,, Asake- traditional names of people