The Skull Of A Biafra-lover

AC(For E. Odumegwu Ojukwu)Everything I made in this war, I lost in it,As the skull of a Biafra-lover,Yet I can't fathom it out.My distant friends had refused to write or call,And the last time, I had my pet like a baby on my hand,I saw many men who put on blacks on papers.I still could not understand after much thought.I thought anything black falls on anyoneWho has done what the law esteems a crime.And not a sage whose jaw were made of glassesWould his soul too refuse to be broken'By his brothers who were forced to dance on broken glassesIn front of barter-traders who envy our trade.I no longer know if we are tired of one tradeFor It seems God too is tired of saving one nation.And lo, I have casted my own coins into the river Niger;I made my followers hungry driversWho made me unconditional promisesTo what next each with his kabukabu doShould any has the opportunity to meet one and oneWith any magician on any of the roads I railed-on.I forbade my followers from looking like tired driversBut promised their tired-kabukabusThat should they pass this tired road once more without breaking-downMy soul would rise to change its bearings, crushes and carburetors.
Click here to read full news..