Abuja is under siege!

Perhaps my imaginations are sensual,
Maybe I’m wrong, swimming in the pool of deception—
Pictures and images of the future blurred,
And my visions totally blinded indeed.
But I indeed see in the house of explosives, a flicker of spark;
A man has stolen a cub from a pride,
He has put in his bosom fire!

He sleeps on his bed with a cub fast becoming a young lion,
In a plate, on a table, together they dine.
He displays folly in the midst of his friends,
Taking pride in the cub from the pride;
They cheer him on…
He feels so, so on top of the world
Not knowing he died long ago.

Like Jonah in the Fish hotel,
He soon would be in Lion hotel as paste,
He’s created for his family a slippery ground
For the beasts and giants to devour.

I’ve seen violence against a beautiful virgin,
So beautiful that all wants her!
Encompassed about by rapists who refused to heed her plea;
She’s been made into an effusion of blood.

Her tongue clove,
Her breath hiccupped,
Between her throat and her roof
Her spirit streamed towards departure,
None is come to her rescue!
I am Nigeria!
I, me, even myself I’m Nigeria!

With one hand on my waist and the other dangling freely,
Mouth comes alive with yawning,
Eyes bleary and then suddenly starry,
In the open, on the streets corners,
I sit with bunch of drunks, who have no visions for their lives;
They are idle chatters—condemning, mocking and wishing,
From that street corner I x-ray the world
And solutions to world problems become a small thing to me.

But I never realize my own life needed a solution first.
I preached change for the world but never recognized
I needed change too.
Fruits of seeds sown soon came ripened.
Floods of horror—lack, poverty, stench,
Anxiety, confusion, deception, delusion;
I became like a toy.
I have a dream!
To become the next Nigerian President!

Pray that by then, I am become refined for the job else,
I am Nigeria! Nigeria is me!
One life channeled wrongly,
One destiny aborted, defines the destiny of a nation.
In my nation, many lives had been wrongfully channeled,
Many destinies were speedily aborted.

What is the meaning of this comment I’m hearing:
That the wells are drying up?
What are these drums beating for?
And all these chanting?
The ocean beds and the earth crust are revolting;
Because the compactness of their strata is dislodged.
A volatile underground mob has come against us,
What a heap of calamities we’ve heaped up foolishly
While we for years tried to sedate the sons of trouble.

From the ground came a striking terror
That culminated into the rising of the southern army—
You call them militants!
From the north came the blood-thirsty machines!
From the east, the frustrated and marginalized!
From the west, the thugs—the area boys!
Diligently and peacefully trouble looms!

The elders, the leaders are confused
But do not actually know they are.
The people are deceived, not knowing
The leaders are better than they.
So we all seem to be drunks!
As I write, I am drunk!
Whether what I write is wrong or right,
It doesn’t matter, just read because you are drunk and can’t decipher!

Why should I continue to criticize?
What I was negligent about writing yesterday,
Has caused today’s troubles!
Get me some more bottles to wash down my hangover,
Help me with some more so as to go
Back to where I’m coming from,
The land of 3 dimensional dreams—
Dreaming that I am dreaming that I was dreaming!
The land of deep sleep!
When I awake, we talk about the rest of the matter
But for now, see you.