Always on the lookout for flaws
Seeking excuses to kill
He fed his subjects Death’s pill
Whoever stood for fairness
Whoever stood for progress
Whoever stood in his way
He threw in Jail
He embezzled freely
But shouted publicly
”Death by the firing squad
If you dare touch the Nation’s funds”
He was injustice itself
And hate was his mistress
Supreme leader with fearfully, handsome look
Still ’twas clear he was a crook
His inner cubicle spoke against him
And his ‘supporters’ sang him hymns
His sword of prejudice slashed freely
Activists and Journalists he slayed unjustly
Elections no more were held
And tribunals were cancelled
He became sovereign ruler
Hoping he’d rule forever
But then, Death, by a fair belle
Rang in the air like the church bell
And like a chicken, he lay, dead
Still, unable to lift his proud head
In his household, mourning reigned
The voices of his wives and children were raised
Wailing and crying, painful regrets
And they said ”He was in health”
However, outside his house
The news floated and was passed
From ear to ear. Deafening cheers
Joyful remarks ”we’ve waited for years”
And like a dead horse,
Unceremoniously and with no remorse
The ”great leader” was dumped
3 feet below without his grump
”Freedom for press
And for the Oppressed”
Rang in the air above his domain
”Elections, that’s what remains”
*In memory of Gen. Sani Abacha and Indeed all of Africa’s tyrants.
Written by: Nonsopoet Chimnonso
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
