Munch Bunch

 

I

They turned out well groomed
In defence of their honourable speaker
‘Her opponents are only selfish
Covetous of plum chairs in the house,’
She has the numbers they say
Like the honour among thieves,
Sycophants have given their verdict:
‘We acquit the tastes of our madam
And find Mr Procedure guilty!

II

They turned out well groomed
On a swagger of shame
Spewing injunction after injunction,
‘I am not the only thief,’ he brags,
‘And I am also a president!’
Will the broom of many colours
Sweep the shit off the umbrella?
Or will the rubber teeth of citizens
Endure the fart of these hyenas?

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The Land is Now Green

                         for Muhammadu Buhari

Tears of joy for my country 

Flow now from my eyes

Fill these channels of hope 

Irrigate the dry patches of the land,

Let cries of abundance

Bubble from the mouth of babes

For the  future of the nation

Now hitches on wheels of progress,

Tears of joy for our country

Flow now from our eyes

These cleansing showers from the skies

To rid the land of rot and shame

Let the sun now shine through

To the abundance of a full day! 

(C) Kabura Zakama

Season of Mourning

Season of Mourning

In the heat of a damp evening
Sweating to the beat of generators,
My lungs in furious duel with fumes,
My heart drenched
In the grief of Potiskum parents.

It is daybreak and the pains are unabated,
The sun shines but my vision is blurred,
Blurred by the gory mutilation
Of saplings yearning for knowledge,
I have heard the poisonous perfidy
Of looters consolidating powers,
I have watched the obscene dance
On the graves of our children.

Yet tears fail me
As my mourning is stifled,
They wash their hands like Pilate
And I drown in blood and vinegar!

(C) Kabura Zakama

Democracy Day

This day finds us chained in toils
While politicians and their cohorts
Snuff out the lives of public millions,
To blow their trumpets of corruption
In the drama of their democracy day.

Politics masquerade in multiple faces
Thuggery and vote-rigging glorified,
Medals shared on pages of newspapers
To professed saviours of the nation
In the drama of their democracy day.

We cannot celebrate this democracy
In the pain of our castration!
We cannot celebrate this democracy
In the shame of my cowardice!
We cannot celebrate this democracy
We mourn the demise of our humanity!

A Lost Decade

This day finds me chained in toils

While politicians and their cohorts

Snuff out the lives of public millions,

To blow their trumpets of corruption

In the drama of their democracy day.

 

Politics masquerade in multiple faces

Thuggery and vote-rigging glorified,

Medals shared on the pages of papers

To self-appointed saviours of the nation

In the drama of their democracy day.

 

I cannot celebrate this democracy

In the pain of my castration!

I cannot celebrate this democracy

In the shame of my cowardice!

I cannot celebrate this democracy

I mourn the demise of humanity!

 

        (c) Kabura Zakama, 29 May 2009, ABUJA

Farewell Song

Restrained passions

Called for a goodbye,

Tested treasures, Teased

From a weak courage,

One more goodbye.

 

Old desires in new appetites

Strained the lull of subtle lusts,

Now a silky reluctance

To err on the side of aljanna

Searches for one more goodbye.