Skip to main content

Buhari Son of Mohamed

Poem Title Image: Buhari Son of Mohamed
President Buhari

In my country, miracles do happen
And our politicians as pastors do,
Lay hands on the economy and her citizens
And at once, lives don’t remain the same
I have read dollars walk out of the banking hall
Nobody knows where they all went
None could predict the path they took
Not even the cashier busy with pens and papers
Not even the accountants balancing the sheets on PCs
No police to trace their steps, no forensic expert to predict their path
This is one big miracle, only in one nation on earth

Things happen and I am not disturbed
Now that change is here, we hope things changes
Too much to settle, with balance not better on deficit
PDP wears the blame; APC does not make much of a difference
One became the arm of thieves, the other a den of liars
(PDP wears the demon; APC is the serpentine devil in black Agbada)
The devil is marveled at the two as the country battles in-between
The defeated are defecting, some feared changed is now ceased to be released
I have seen trillion naira gently sneaked out through the borders of patrols
No officer could detect the box piled with newly notes
Not even the dogs can sniff the sweat of millions robbed at day time
This is one big miracle, only in one nation on earth

The politicians wear caftans while the economy knots a choking tie
The people’s hope lost and dare not be found in the hands of looters
The masses bleeds, I mean the poor ones
Whose hard work is not enough to pay the daily bills
Confused, rejected and thrown into the starless night
Hope is wandering on the street and busy roads
Talents wandering and wasted in busy hawks of wares with thirsty tongues
But we can fetch enough to drinks for them on tarred roads
Yes, because the government is kind enough to make more potholes
This is one big miracle, only in one nation on earth

Only in one nation on earth, one big miracle after another
Unemployment rises like a giant beast,
Disaster above stated limits
Some say the nation is cursed, other say the people are dumb
Even as hope is lost in the palace of kings and queens
The lion does not eat grass for want of food
While faith is gone amongst queens and princesses
The eagle does not nest her young in waters for want of space
But who will save us in this time of despair?

Stanza two
Through the darks of the northern soil
Where dust and doom is mixed like coil
Hope has sailed to bring us a son
In the hours of the day
When the nation wears the coat of black
Where the stars has refused to shine
Buhari Son of Mohammed
Who do you say I am?


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Tribute

Tribute to Nigerians Who lived to fight But died at bullets sight For justice, for equity For change, for betterment Tribute to Nigerians Whose smiles suffer them And their cries are never heard Who suffers for daily bread While deep inside, they bleed Tribute to Nigerians Who wake up early to sleep late Hawking for bread, hustling in stress Working, but worked out Striving, but starved to death Tribute to Nigerians Who did not place religion above man But place man above religion Who are their brother’s keeper Who honours the difference in others Tribute to Nigerians Whose friends betrayed and colleagues dismayed In prisons and cell blocks for no offense Praying yet; yet prayed for their foes Men of valour, buried without honour Tribute to Nigerians Who saw political fraudsters and liars And were brave enough to stand their feet Not corrupt by lies, not swayed by bribes Who in t...

Diary of Arike

I have done it all. Yes. Slept with all kinds of men. The tall dark fine ones without six packs, the ugly dudes with smelling armpits, the fair ones with body hair well shaved like a trimmed garden. The naughty ones who would insist on everything, pushing and pulling you all over every sections till they ran out of zeal and the boastful ones who would just brag about everything but at the end of the day fall asleep like palm oil inside the bottle. My name is Arike. I would not say I am proud of the job, i don’t even know if i should say i did it for the money or whether to affirm that i did it for a long hatred without healing. I was disflowered when i was still young to know the mounting troubles of life. I was raped by a step father who took the advantage of my unloving mother. I would not blame him, I blame my dad who was drunk to the point of meeting death on the express way. Life has being everything to me- the good, the bad and the ugly. The constant rape never ceased after t...

To the Lady, Ifeoluwa

 To the lady, Ifeoluwa To the lady with the sweetest smiles and brownie eyes This was never meant to be written It was meant to be words of love Passionately pouring into your bloodstream Traveling steadily down the planes of your nerves Flowing into every corners in your heart It was meant to take you and take you over To break your guards and open chapters of love in your heart To the lady with the sweetest voice and cutest pitch This was never meant to be a poem It was meant to sweep you off your feet and make your heart skip a beat It was meant to be torrents of emotional words Filling every space within your world Touching all the glittering spot of your sweet soul Bringing you into life of love where two hearts beat as one Luring you into a blissful world of ecstatic devoid of fantasy   To this lady with a soft soul and a fine feet This was never meant to be written in letters It was meant to be engraved withi...