Do not ask me again
Why I hop from tree to tree like a monkey
It is because I am in a frantic search
For healing herbs for my bedridden country
And just as the thunder’s applause welcomes the rain
And the torch of lightening illuminates the path
On which the raindrops walk
The shrieks of my compatriots
Have spurred me to walk the thorny path
Of revolution, hope’s flickering flame
lightens this path and Nelson Mandela’s snore
from the sandy bed of his grave cheers me:
“Walk on child. ” It beckons my tired limbs
as I walk on the foot path carved out with
the glistening edge of my pen but like
Dele Giwa who travelled in our behalf
I know that one day
One of you like Judas Iscariot
Would take let them put in your mouth a piece of bread
that sort of bread on which a generation of moulds and fungi thrive
and you would for that bread
ride on the chariot of selfishness
To deliver death to me wrapped in a colorful pack
But if you think
all my life is worth is but a piece of bread
Please come right away
For I would not stop
using my inky stroboscope
to keep my satirical ripples alive
until Nigeria’s political health is restored
