Where else is home
Like the land of our own
Where our olds have grown
And many renowned
Yet with pain they have sown
All the treasures we know
And many fought and drown
Just make us a home
For where else is home
But a land we have known?
Tired of the animosity between the ethnic tribes.
Tired of the kleptomaniac politrickcians.
Tired of the apathetic citizens
Tired ! Tired !! Tired !!’
Woke up with a start like it had been a vision
felt like I just won a part in an audition
but not being an actor made it feel like confusion
guess I ought to get a better confirmation.
So I looked yonder but there is a buzz in my nation
its amazing how it all came to this situation
sure feels a bit ‘woozy’ like I’ve had too much carnation
for the unwary, its cream in my tea without the ovation
Oops , I think I am sidetracking the original rendition
now I run the risk of mucking the waters of a dire situation
in its wake I may end up with a trail of complications
that befall a nation that trod the real road to perdition…
Water faa, Good roads faa, Education faa, Values faa. Two lane bad roads
with politicians flogging every body to one lane so they could pass.
Happy Birthday NIGERIA!!!!!!!!!!!!
Where gone “The good ol’ days”
A jerky phrase
The elders always say
When they hint on the glorious days
This generation have missed?
Nevertheless, we sing in hope, reason and deeds
That someday a new generation may sing
“Thank God for these days our heroes have made”
Let’s reach out with love than our neighbors we hurt
For we know better
The voice of the letter
That we can get better
If we hate each other…lesser.
CALL NINE ONE ONE. . .
There is fire on our roof top
It is blazingly burning
And we know not where to run
Some one please call nine one one
The hairs on the head of our heads are on fire
Helter-skelter we run to put it out
Pillar to post we run in seach of the seachables
To make our life livable
There is fire on our elective platform
It has consumed the entire dais
The people on it now beyond recognition
We know not where to put our marked papers
So pls call nine one one
Shephereds have taken the sheep out to dry land
Now at crossroads crossing to the green land
And with fire on the dry land
Topsy turvy the sheep search for the greenland;
Please, call nine one one
Our land is at blaze, almost all are lost
Food, shelter, good health, education in flames
And the igniters seat on top of the extinquisher
So pls call nine one one
Less our populace peter out!
They sneer behind her back when she attempts to sound serious…
They look on in awe as her inhabitants daily labor to make a mockery of that which should be the norm….
They daily ponder at the divisive trend that is her lot…
They look on as year after year, her leaders go on throwing up policies that are at best self-serving…
They laugh when her so-called masses labor in their own little ways to ensure corruption takes a vantage position…
They marvel at how one so potentially great can look so small…
And chuckle when she woefully tries to drum it into the head of anyone that cares to listen that she’s the “giant of Africa”…..
They cringe when those who claim to be her “elder statesmen” attempt to outdo each other in a shameful self-serving dance of inducing ethnic and religious divisions….
They are perplexed when those who gun for her high office leave the realm of issues and present themselves from ethnic standpoints….
They are more surprised when her citizens would rather vote in a goat from their ethnic stock than allow a more qualified individual from another area taste high office…
And they shake there heads in utter disbelief at the folly of her ethnic combatants in not understanding that the goat they vote in only has his belly at heart….
They look on as terrorists threaten to put a lie to her security outfits claims to “having everything under control”….
They are sad as bombs continue blowing up in churches notwithstanding..
They watch as she yearly continues to honour those who’ve spent the better part of their lives raping her with impunity…
And they look on with sadness as her roads progressively turn into death traps….
They are appalled at the sheer waste that permeates the system and wonder how long she can take this beating….
They gasp as her leaders yearly roll out the drums to celebrate her birthday and ponder the essence of such celebrations….
They study her foundations and wonder how its not obvious to her people the need to engage in dialogue….
And they are surprised at how her leaders would rather continue living a lie
She is now 52 and as usual, the drums will roll…
Glasses will be clinked….
Newspaper houses will rake in fortunes from congratulatory messages….
But they observe with bated breath…
Hoping against hope that that which they’ve seen from afar will somehow become a reality….
They will be looking past the disappointments of the past to a future where this giant really acts worthy of the name….
They hope that this grown-up man will stop crawling and start walking….
They are mindful that the very fact that she’s still existing shows there’s hope…
And they hold on tenaciously to this hope….
Praying that she awakens from her slumber to take that position which rightfully belongs to her….
And in their hopeful state, they see a grown-up man fully aware of the responsibilities that come with age….
They see her people fully grasping the lie sold them by leaders whose interests are at best pecuniary…
And they rejoice in their hope for the good that is her future….
She is 52 and though she’s been battered and raped continuously, she yet rises….
To put to shame those who gave her up as spent…
And as long as good always triumphs over evil,
Happy Birthday NIGERIA!!!