OLD SOLDIER NEVER DIES

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When I hear hopeless denizens
Hooting like night owls
Perched on frail branches
Of smooth-bark Iroko trees
Begging life’s support
From crevices of rocky tablets
Painted by your seductive brush
That only flowed to calm urgy-nerves
Of frustrated trusts seeking justice;

When yester-memories
flashback fresh bloody scenes
Of Eight Ogoni men
Tied to a stake
Before the firing squad
Of capital punishment
For a lost battle
To save a sick sickled portion
Of landed inheritance;

When circular flows of
Tickling trials and persistent errors
Result in vicious circles of
Unending throes, time after time;

When all of these events
Strike major chords again
Replaying infinite symphonies
Of discordant melodies;