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Baba Oyirimusa
Why have you decided to use her?
The path juvenile and green
Does it add light to those frail eyes, so dim?
Owning a ranch filled with cattles and longing for an ewe
Voluptuous hips awaits you on the queue
Yet you drink from a tiny pelvic cup
Upon the nursery bed, you chose to hop
Spying from the bulrushes around the creeks
Invading her territory like the trojan of the greeks
The child is not a bride
Thou hatcher that hatches the hen’s premature eggs
You defecate on the altar
A gradual metamorphosis you alter
You urge us not to speak
But your life-shattering has climbed its peak
Stricken with paedophilic fever
Abducting chicks into your quiver
Free Ese remains our essay
Till from your loins, you detach Ese
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