LA’ BULE WA

#BlogFest #50DaysCountDownTo2015 – Day 02. Written by Adedayo Adeyemi Agarau(State of the nation)****************Dusk is the timeTo dance in the faceOf a stunted future.When we call the windTo witness our shameOur land is the fertile groundWhere corrupt minds blossom.Thanks to the blood-manure!The sun is a strangerThat visits during eclipseWind is a usual wayfarerCatching the glimpse of avarice,Spreading it around the huts.La’ bule wa,There is no future.We celebrate the polished pastWe gaze at,  in a broken mirrorTagged by timeThe owl is the natureThat sees the night in a blur visionElders sing us dirgesAnd we chant them to sleepWith the lullabies of warLa’ bule wa,Every night we dreamBut it is casted away by the crows of mornRain would comeBut with a furnace.King- looter,Begging the poorFor a basketful of penury?Chief steals our wivesIn exchange for a sted of farm?Prince rides horsesOn our backsAnd soothes it with whipsEvery yam festival,No one dies!They are only buried with their dreams.La’ bule waThe sahara wind  is moistyOur eyes is the riversWe suck from- a pool of salinity.We are the children of the broken flatWhose parents are the naked palace maidsSinging pedigrees with a crying voiceLa’ bule wa,There are poets who singSongs of woe with a lying tongue.There are criersWho courier blank versesin the bracket of falsehoodThe gods are tyrantsCalling the youths to warWhere is the breath of airIn this stuffed land of oursWhere is peace, in pieces?La’ bule waCurses to the king, our morning prayer.Tears is for the night.La’ bule waChildren are detainedElders,  retainedFor ransom?Our name is tainted with blackWe cannot freely visit our neighborsIf we are not pillaged lousilyLa’ bule waChildren and fowls alikeSlaughtered in the christmas of ritualsLa’ bule waThe night is a deadly venueTo tell the tales of the dreadful pastOur walls are ‘eary’Gossiping to the land beyond our viewThe death of a sprouting rose-Whose future is an infantmother cannot breastfeedOur land is the northWhere we gather to partyWith the music of bombsWhere we sing the anthemsIn a heart clouded by mournWhere we pledge detrimentto the nation that gave us shieldAnd rain the curses of job from the epistles of hell.In the courtyard of the palaceOur future is decidedLa’ bule wa,There are markets where destinies are tradedWith 20-shekel of bronzeWhere skillful palms are paralyzedBy the toxins from joblessnessLa’ bule wa,Our armingers are butcheredBefore the dawn poses a smileOur dogs are deafAnd the whistle is dumbHunter too, paralyzed.But,Our hope lives onIn this land.La’ bule wa,Our future isBottled in a can of fear.Translations:LA’ BULE WA- IN OUR VILLAGEAdedayo Adeyemi AgarauFor inquiries, send mails to elsieisy@gmail.com or tweet at @elsieisy

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