He speaks large volumes of venomous silence,
The echoes of his bedeviled mind roams their conscience.
With his lips glued tight as of a dummy,
None of all that he does is funny.
Yet the LAMBS are led not by an ewe but a nanny,
With their horns shot out like the walking stick of a granny.
A witch cries at night
A child dies in the morning.
Women weep, mourn and sigh,
The men, arms folded, say nothing.
The youth, hopes killed, they just look on,
And their future tortured, yet they watch like morons.
AN IROKO tree sited beyond the border line,
Though providing shade and wood for the poor,
Is hewn down ’cause of its ability to spread goodness like a young vine.
Nipped at the bud, for it’s not meant to be fruitful but must remain poor.
His lips are tied
Yet his words are fried
In hot oil,
By the people’s toil.
And the aroma of his words
Are _smelled tied_ about his kindred cords.
The blind can no longer feel but see,
The deaf perceive the echoes of greed,
The lame leap and jump for joy
“But the people only but feel coy”.
“As he orders for the shade of the boabab tree to his kindred heed.
Whilst the hearts of the trivial many ooz and bleed.”
Enapa, mmo, for your breast milk feeds even to generations unborn.
Unlike the other that seeks to amass and heap away to kindred spirits.
‘Like the greedy monkey on a very high banana plant,
Eating the fruit and throwing down the peels
Yet, the dummies down there hail and with praises on him adorn.”
He loves to work with dummies and puppets,
‘Cause he isn’t any better than a pupetteer
Who makes the people believe he is a volunteer.
He orders them to always obey with a cheer,
To which THEY obey but without in their faces, a tear,
With loyalty brewed in a hate of fear.
The Phenomenal Poet
Gladys Alasid Mbilla