Pinching my eardrum from the underworld,
Sour souls of siblings shouting for shelter
In this parched and thorny weather.
I hear juveniles lamenting the death of their future
After their mothers breast could no more hatch for them milk
But black bloods for infants to chew.
Doom crawled upon their lineage
And stole away smiles their ancestors planted.
On a dumb facade
There a child lies, craving his mothers touch
But only her blind blood could console the baby.
The gods have stolen our bread,
Even the blood of our soldiers
Now soothing their taste.
Africa’s courage amputated,
Even Nigeria’s joint and marrows dislocated.
That child has got no father,
Mothers of many, with no husband.
Bones of brothers buried in backyard of baby-sis.
This is a message from the ancestors
“Our vote is futile,
For They’ve crowned their chief
Even before vote’s arrival
But let’s fight till our breathe
Africa with no culture
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