Let them die

I drove through Isu
galloping on potholes, my shock-absorber
wincing like a whore
whose cunt is pricked by a merciless pennis
hurrying for an unyielding orgasm

Past Umejei primary School
by Ashieke market
where Umejei himself now stood, poised with a matchet
gripped with fists of Nweke's clay creation.

The national flag, i recall, at the general assembly
flapping like a child's polythene kite
shredded, tormented by winds
and hoisted on a bruised sun-tanned bamboo
planted near where the band boys stammer
through our National Anthem...

It has been a gradual death, ours
Oh we have continued to die...
A dog grovels over a pendant bone
hung on its neck
A poet writes his own epitaph
And we call him a prophet!
What have we not done to kill ourselves?
A governor-awarding bazaar contracts
to his own company, chaired by his wife
managed by brothers-in-law
where all first families are directors!
So tight we have strung
the hangman's noose, hung on our neck
knotted by our fists...


Let them die
All those who piss into the lake of Atakpo
Let them die all who pillage our treasury
Shameless rats, did we ever ask you
to guard our fish? Incorrigible rigger!
You who sojourn in the gutters
now cruise in the chambers of a moving house!
Npkakala must empty your bowels
You will shit in your pants!

Henry Ajumeze