I’m no talebearer,
neither am I a master storyteller.
But of the little I know
within these pages I’ll show.

This is not a sexy story
this is a true story.
Speak a little truth
and the people lose their mind,
stretch it beyond its tensile strength
and watch them rage like hounds.

I speak of dictions
and not of contradictions.
Like trade in our stocks,
we have become a communal laughing stock,
amassing wealth by the legion
refusing to look beyond the horizon.
Stunted by ineptitude
and our I don’t care attitude;
the naira began its oily slide
and now none can stem the tide…
Still in market places full of banter,
we trade and we barter.

They call it magic
but truly I’m allergic.
Publishing `Lais` with penpoints,
terrorists; they hold us at gunpoints.
In the name of haram,
steadily they do our great nation harm
while we like sinners in the hands of an angry god
we are screaming in the name of a foreigner’s god
pleading with the numerous fires of creation
to save our flailing nation.


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