A
puff of the feathers by the golden peacocks
Doing
an Ogogoro Dance at exactly the spot
Where
our moon dance used to hold
Actually
did steal my admiration in a thousand ways so cruel!
Was
I being sadistically thrilled to slumber tethered to the stakes of ignorance?
Or,
drilled to familiarize with the fatal ropes of defeat
Across
the battle line where Sampson got trapped on his Wedding Day?
Or,
did my five senses fail to delete the dirge from the Hymnal
Where
the rites of blessings performed by fellow visitors to my Delilah
Transformed
into an “Ekene”.
Oh
dear!
Take
your rambling fingers off my manhood!!
For
you did practically nothing
To
preserve my footsteps on the hot sands of the Sahara
On
my way back from the mission of reconnaissance.
And
take note that I arrived early enough
To
catch a glimpse of your colorful performances
In
the act of perfidy the previous Nkwo Market Day.
I
am appalled at the gait with which you spread hate.
I
am jeered to see you beating the drums of war.
But
just two poles away from where your Jubilee
Lay
in ambush with a kiss of tall garlands for a service you never rendered
An
abyss stood taller against your crumbling ambition
And
just very close to the crossroads where all roads lead only to yesterday
The
Wind-vane unsuccessfully battles
The
speed of the hot sandy wind from the Kano Hills
Upon
which are perched the invading vampires ordained against our patrimonies.
I
have noticed your arthritic limbs have had all their strengths dried up.
Yet
the wagon of forlorn Hope refuses to loosen its grip on your neck.
Yes
indeed!
My
laugh echoes high around the many statues
Of
your many Iwene Tansis in Aba
Therefore,
I predict your suicide!
And
with hands akimbo and mouth agape, I do bid thee farewell!
But
I am blown to pieces by your doom!
And
must I wear aprons of cruel tantrums atop my flowing white garments
When
my crucifixion has proved more rewarding than self-pity?
Now
as always
That
Pity alone faults my huge weight on this scale of Victory
I
am constrained to disengage my measured steps
To
the top of the Kilimanjaro so that you can have a chance to return
For
only Love alone is fit to donate the Eagle Wings of my choice.
Therefore,
Return! Return!! Return!!!
Leave
no word for the man from The Sun.
Return
before the Insiders TELL The NEWS
Return
before Vanguards Punch The Newsbearer
Return
before THE NATION goes back to The SOURCE of our rantings.
Know
ye that the Police Men at Ukwu Egbu
Do
not have any warrant of arrest against you
On
my part
I
only know how to kill a rat
But
not how to kill a Bishop.
And
if my fare to 43 Market Road and to its neighbors in the making is costly
Would
the price tag on Maria Assumpta at Umuode
Not
find a fill of her glory for Pastor Nwoko
When
I myself I am once more married to St. Vincent’s Oyigbo
In
your location next week.
But
be sure of this!
That
a trek on the Bridge across to the Rivers State of my love is easier
But
it will cost much to the Masters who have perfected in the act of perfidy.
For
I myself equally hold an Award in Activism.
Just
look! Look!! Look!!!
Now
see! See!! Seeeeeeeeeee!!!
HOLY
SEEEEEEEEEE!
Beware
of the Sea!
- This Poem represents my sincere but resolute efforts to reach out to His Lordship before he went the way of all mortals! A copy was sent to him officially in July of 2013 four months after the burial of my late father, Mr. Fidelis Evurulobi.
- May Okezie Victor Ikpeazu and Goodluck Jonathan please take note!
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