Evolution
Born
in to a land of wooden ploughs
A
country of mean men and plans
Where
the streets are a dreadful to the fitly
Those
queues of salt tells my story
Suddenly
the thunder stuck again
The
same rain that washed away the nomads
Here
comes the prince of deceit and con
An
era of promises to build huts in the air
For
years we swarm in the swamp
Struggling
with the quicksand of tyranny
Blood
flowed like the Ogun
River freely into the lagoon
The
Oriri birds were caged and could not sing
Suddenly
the Iroko fell
Without
warning, without a word
There
was relieve as if from a deadly boil
But
not for too long
There
came providence in person
Carrying
the calabash of hope for free
We
waited for the message in vain
For
eight moons we worshiped his majesty
His’
is splendour and unparallel knowledge
Until
the fire could not be rekindled anymore
Now
we are as thick skinned as the hippopotamus
Not
worried or upset, even in our total state of darkness
Now
the fisherman runs the foundry
It takes more than dynamite to difuse our dilusions
Even
with the desert now at our doors again,
Evolution
hasn’t really work on our minds!
Omo-Ekun- Ilu-Nla.
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