By Noel Ihebuzor
The tragedy of a journey
on this hunch back road,
slippery, muddy,
filled with slime and grime
tired limbs trudging round
in unending cycles and circles,
on this sterile,
empty, barren highway
smeared generous with a coating
slippery, of thick okro sauce,
now going sour
Truth does not walk this road any more
lies lie in wait for the unwary,
from all four winds and corners
fetid fumes and foams
frothing from ogbono coated tongues
hollow throats,
mirroring hollowed consciences,
deformed by elephantiasis of the soul
the festering cancer enlarges
feeding off a bottomless greed
that has gripped the strong breed
ripped their souls grim
with the grim reaper’s blade
moral paralysis now spawns
new barren creeds of
chop comot make we chop
on a betrayed people,
trapped in endless cycles and circles
