From the clutches of

Evil doers with long

Pointed noses,

You were rescued

By selfless Patriots

Whose stock in trade was

Service to humanity.


Adorned in green for productivity

And white for purity.

Sons and daughters march on

With courage in the wilderness of hope

Amidst consuming hopelessness.


Undeterred by their frailties

Even when they had no voice

To birth a common but laudable

Cause in a way that shook the world

Alas, congenial vagabondage was

Their lot to orchestrate a new dawn

Where man will be man but not pawn

And slaves will wear garments that fit

Their asses.


Yes, we got it as we Christen it 1960

A day we sent the Lords out

For their incapacitation

No, usurpation and unnecessary


Who cares about the fortunes

They catered away. We know it will

Be immodest to send away the

Agatu without some tubers

of yam as souvenirs.


The Agatu is gone but our

madness has increased.

The field is barren but locusts

And cankerworms still prey

On the little crops yet to survive

The inclement weather

Sadly, the village heads are insane

Weak and sterile

Who doesn’t know that whatever

Happens to the head gets to the feet?


Black days are here. The darkness

Is thick and we may grope until

We stumble on luck that we can’t

be sure of.

Even in the Boulevard, great men

Speak and do unthinkable things

They dance on the grave of the

Patriots with their idiocy

And they are never tired.

When will this darkness disappear?

Let there be light.


By Abire Sunday Olugbenga