The Last President

Posted on 28/12/2011

1


The Last President


Boy from the delta

Birthed in the belly of the the Niger
When folk tales retold
The fables of old
Of Whitey’s surrender
And the triumvirate agenda
Three blind mice

And then the cats were born
Strange cats with long knives
These were not part of the tales
That grandpa retold by moonlight
But there were no lies ever told
Under the rafia umbrella
When nobody wore shoes

One was a scion of his mother
One was the bastard’s brother
One betrayed his conscience
One was not his brothers essence
The next was his own nemesis
One’s greed emptied our benefits
A time bomb of intrigue
Planted by the one who knew
The one who would next become
Tomorrow’s disease

In the land of Otueke
The man with shoes is king
God save the king!
A thousand pairs of new shoes
Bowler, et suit, en-suite
Exquisite
‘Say “cheese!”‘
Click!

Often I reminisce
Of the famed town jester 
On a night out at the theatre
Final show, with his wife in tow
Bountiful gaffes per minute assured
Pay as you go
Or buy one get more freebies!
Night of a thousand laughs
They called him ‘The Lucky Strike.’
Can I have a light, sir?

Abiku from the delta
Where the thick black blood lies
Land of the ones that refused to die
Born with no shoes
He still had no clues
As bombs reigned down
From nowhere
And everywhere
Altogether
The visible ones
And the invisible
We do not have friends
We do not have enemies

They pile their weaponry
Against the ones they swore to protect
A basketful of pledges and dreams
Ricochet from the soapbox of deceit
Miasma of broken promises
Echoes of illusion, or delusion
Or both
Nothing changes
Not around here!

The mugumization of one nation
Subsidised brains on display
Both leader and led
Mugus One and Two
Goat and mule in cohesion
This is your life, my friend
You had your chance
But you missed it
Now you must live with your mess
Have your dinner with the devil
Enjoy your cornucopia of retards
Stew in your repast of putrid puddings
Your sins have found you at last
All your friends are dead
Yet you rejoice, instead!

To be, or to be not
To have what cannot be had
I quote not, and not to curse naught
Death is nought to the king of Tyrus
Bojuboju, Oloro m’bo
Esu must claim his just reward
Let us be very clear
The final promise is near
But only for them that hear
Dear Damsel,
Please where is Mr. President
My dear?


c.fmwongi281211.
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Posted in: Poetry