When harmattan hammers you,
You begin to shiver like a busy river,
Your nostrils become block like an ice block,
Your brain vanished to forlorn dreams,
That’s when you begin to feel you’re lodging between the thighs of a dead temptress.
When harmattan hammers you,
You become a make up artist that start lacking customers,
Mary-k become your worst enemy,
You even give powder a breathing space,
Even lip-sticks of various colour find themselves lost in truncated dreams,
You start subscribing to wet-lips of forlorn dreams,
Painting your lip with rub and oily cream.
Wetting your lips like a clown who consumed
Oily substance, and lost the thought of cleaning his mouth.
You become a female.
Turning into amadioha with the way you bask in the thought of avoiding scraggy lips.
Becoming gay while
Wet lip made for lasses travels through your iced lips.
Your face shiny with the amount of kernel oil you
Plastered on it.
Your skin become feeble that it can tear at the slight of any scratch,
like that of a decayed cat.
Cold, fever, and catarrh
Now become global visitors that visit the corridor of your abode
Hot water you start making you regular bomboy.
You don’t want to be flogged by cold water
When harmattan hammers you,
Your sagacious mind
Rings the bell of using protective measures.
You began to massage your body with balm and palm.
Your lips become brother to rub.
You always lodge beneath the sheet of bedsheets.
Gigantic sweater you put on day and night,
You refuse to lie unclad and lackadaisical.
You even bribe nature to be kind to your skin,
While you multiply the number of pyjamas you wear at night
And jump into the arms of blanket with big skirt.
Your lips begin to develop
Potholes and zebra crossing,
Your lips create punchlines of poetic rhymes and rhythms.
Your nostrils become stiff to sniff.
Yet flush out watery and thick catarrh as fountain gush out water
Your palms become Strong and you become a prisoner to
British song
