The wind of disorder is blowing,
Slowing us down!
The dark clouds have eclipsed the sun,
Rendering the future bleak!
There is no light, no hope,
And even the birds gaze mutely!
I looked and saw the disgruntled people
Wailing and cursing. They were stuck in mud!
Helpless and distressed in the mud of corruption,
Their fleshes grew weary as faces murmur in smiling agony!
Stuck in the mud, their voice trekked to oblivion
While the sincere liars ‘glow with pride’!
The cabals in high places see them,
Sinking deeper and deeper into the mire,
But their hands are too busy to help,
Counting gold and pouring wine!
“Who will deliver us?” I mutter,
But the question ascends like a balloon,
Steadily, into the sullen sky…
meet the poets: Showunmi Olawale Michael and Kingsley U. Ayistar
