Garbage

Head of our heads is intricate web.
Roach flood in septic tank
And its walk in china bathtub.
The state of our State a garbage heap
Fuel our stagger towards emancipation.

The plagued face of Aso rock.
A soiled stream from source
A revolving cycle of waste sorts
Fowl-droppings on royal stool
Garbage-strewn, cyclic senile pandora.

With jackboots and Lickboots
Conquest of dung at 'Kara'
The four lepers and the samaritan
South-East-North-West
Living in bondage. Look!
He chases rat about that sets his house on fire
Dispensing gnaw, grit and grimace.

Shall we wait in vain?
Would we have the gain?
Must we live the pain?
For dividend of stain?

They send a thief after another.
Sure they share common border
Government uniformed rogues
And the marauders they send to morgues.

It seems to me insane.
They seem to be the same
Even the Liberian returnees
Made sowers of felonies.

All ways, the decimal is waste.
A pool of uncommon fate
Lame devotees to a cult
Progeny seem to uinderstand not.

(2003)

FOOTNOTE: 1.) 'Kara' (Hausa Language, Nigeria) Means a market place for cows.

The poem Garbage is as political as it is lampooning. It adorns a rather sorrowful mien and derides the non perfomance of our political heads and military usurpers who have led African nations by the horn into despondent sorry states, having no social, health, educational or recreational facilities many years after many have gained their independence from colonialists. Our national psyche is indeed 'Insane'. Corruption, moral morass, avarice, and greed stand tall as the national flags hung in state houses. It is indeed a shame.