By: Habib Akewusola & Habeeb Whyte
Impunity on display
Well dressed scarecrow or idols.
Just faces on currency
Just smiles on fiction
Forced livelihood amidst agony
Germination of multiple fertile seeds
On a soil I never own nor farm on.
He breaths, for free,
Whose fighting for we?
Albeit, we gave him freedom
Institute of korrupt
By force avenging a curse,
Lick my feet!
The uncommanded commander beckons,
My brother, endure, or you comot, shikena..
Media doesn’t sleep.
As korrupt fights back,
Tricks, venue a battle field,
Casualty are her avid readers
Dead is a believer.
Hope is buried.
So did my corn tree,
Never sight shores of a fertile island
She never grew to glory
The farming masters deemed so….
- * * * * *
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