THROES OF OUR HEROES PAST
Not dumb but mouth gagged,
Not lame but legs shackled,
Lost weight, trousers sagged,
Suffered young men, faces wrinkled.
Wind bit against their life boat,
Roamed, no safety, no shelter,
Tattered, ragged clothes as coat,
Being pursued, ran helter skelter.
Captured, thrown to dungeon,
Cried day and night for freedom,
Sick, tortured, no surgeon,
Destroyed villages, no kingdom.
They lived no life of their own,
Forced bile down their throat with orders,
Children, youths and adults groaned,
Plundered by marauders.
Killed, dumped in holes,
Families murdered in bloodied seas,
Weakened, shattered souls,
Being stung by life bees in their abys.
Till the day became tired of inferiority,
Till they fought life and death,
Till they embraced humanity,
Till they fought with their last breath.
They were our heroes
That fought for our independence,
They vanquished our foes
And stopped being in dependence.
Where are our heroes
That fought for independence?
Yeah! Demo-crazy! Throes!
Famished people! Far from resplendence.
Hunger has become order of the day,
What they fought for is going down the drain,
There is nowhere safe to stay,
We are not shacked, but in pain.
Young men with wrinkled face,
Men left with mindset of servitude
Heart beating at a high pace,
Explosions escalating in its magnitude.
This is not what we fought for,
Raping, kidnapping everywhere,
Depressed men, drinking to stupor,
Bombers killing those we hold dear.
How could we claim
To be freed in utmost confusion?
Independence! Call it any name!
It's just a mind illusion.
Where is the freedom
When situations made men insane?
Professor! Yes! You! Come!
Is this not the meaning of pain?
You! Me! Us!
What's the cause of celebration?
I ask again. What's the cause?
Does being in dependence call for jubilation?
All Rights Reserved
Osoba Taiwo P.