We broke through steel cracks of old
Found Laughters in packs of wet innocence
We are pushing change for our people,
Fed with same old story, yes same story
In diverse ways and nomenclatures
These terrible moments, unchanging moments.
We see them working ”hard” for their share
Digging deep, for selves and shares.
See how they feed fat on dirty creeks, streams and rivers
In mindless poise they feel the reins, content with
Celebrating its touch, as moments slip painfully.
In a slight wave of their share, they howl…but daily,
Genuine voices are lost to corrupt tendencies.
So, when sounds of boastful sarcasm rings,
They settle for a broke, that breaks the steel in many
Wasting meanings in that sense of reasoning
Which wouldn’t come for fun.
With souls bruised and caged
Fathers wondering how dazed they are
Like elders in obvious quagmire, they
Beat old drums for new dance steps
Sing ”hip-hop” in place of ”kokoma”
Can tell of a self-inflicted bondage, warming ages
Can see seas devoid of sea-going vessels
And foods flown down like in times of war.
Aren’t we in war?
Written by: Eriata Oribhabor
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