I am the canon of the muse,
the canticle of the cruise,
the gadfly from the blues,
the firefly of the truce.
I have come with festoons of dawn
and a barrage of greens and a mix of fruity fawn
with sparklers and bangers to hurtle the town,
to reinforce the unity of the city’s brawn,
the wasp is here with envelopes brown
and campaigns with bullets and missiles on the loose
plus tons of cash and barrels of booze
flaunting his ill-gotten wealth with a heap of fuse,
he blares, ‘me, you must choose’
‘every other contestant is a ruse.’
He whines, ‘I’m here for change not abuse.’
The wheel of change is void of hope
all noise and a suicide rope.
How shall the passionate patriots cope?
As all watch without air of redemption but mope!
Now, many who seek hope in better shores elope…
Those who remain wield their PVCs with a ray of hope!
Read – The Burden of Being Invisible – A Poem by Oladele Bello, Nigeria
