MR.

CLEVER
by Obanya
Yeeaaeaeaeaeahhhhhrreeeeaaaach!
The blood curdling sound of yet another Klaxon blast.
It is not another call for cover
from an intermittent air raid,
but a cry for cover from another double speak.
Mouths asunder,
History replete with Mister Clever
that sounds off in phony platitudes.
Wars fought with masonry zeal on their behalf.
Weapons sold to both sides of the divide.
Machiavelli: Judge, Jury and Executioner.
A delta of promises
propelled by a shady provenance,
flooding the plains of our minds
forgetting every river seeks its Ocean
Literally Gods redemptive promises for each one of us,
beyond the earthly platitudes of our oppressors.
OBanya
PSST! PSST!
By Obanya
Psst! Psst!
Wetin?!
Who you be?
En hen?!
You come dey hala me
Where you dey go?!
Palez vouz Francaisetu con prom?
Tu con kini?
I dey waka my own, jeje.
Shebi una say we too plenty,
say NEPA,Water, Food, Road,
no dey enough for we all?
Psst! Psst!
I come dey wakadey waka my own
Pass Seme border.
Abi, make I no try my luck someplace?
Make I no hammer for Yankee,
or even self Cotonou, abi Accra?
You come dey Psst! Psst!
Kalabulelekalabulele people
kalabulele sense
Psst! Psst!
OBanya