AREAS OF THE NIGER

Tears flow on their street like tsunami,
Carcasses of the dejected liters the jungle like Somalia,
Poverty is their companion and hunger their kinsman,
Their rulers are prodigal and callous in mind.

Tales of murder, kidnap and theft,
On daily posts like a wildfire,
Pilgrims journey with their hearts in their own hands,
Even their watchmen are victims of the captors.

With empty belly and frowned faces,
Young and old walks the corridors in bitterness,
Not without a glimpse of hope in their subconscious minds,
‘Naija go better’ is their daily anthem.

Anarchy has taken hold on their palace attendants,
Their edits are meant for the proletarians,
Their bourgeoisie buys justice with impunity,
A land of crippled value system and justice.

North-west wears the regalia of religious fanatism,
The brutal murder of Deborah stirs at the minds like the ghost,
North-east harbours bandits for her self-destruction,
All day long, woes ransacked their corners with an unprecedented curfew.

North-central is a home of the unimaginable,
Where banditry and religious intolerance spread wings,
Like an eagle on the hunt,
Their kings are helpless, their sons are prey.

South-west is a base of ritualists and religious verbal war,
Where toddlers slaughter human for riches,
And the social media become the battle field for religion bigots.
Even their watchmen are guilty of compromise on these.

Unknown gunmen are the princes of Persia in the south-east,
Political kidnap and killings is a daily routine, yet the leader sleeps on,
Militancy and broad day light theft are the strongholds in the south-south,
Where the military and the militants are companions in criminality.

The center of power is with a magical order,
Where pen manipulate figures and snake swallows money,
Habitation of seats that decide the fate of hundreds of million,
An arena where public opinions are silenced in the dock at judgment.

A land where cattle are more important than human,
Farmers are scared of cattle’s brutality in their farms,
Landlords can no longer sleep peacefully in their abodes,
As security becomes so expensive in the market to purchase.

Oh how naira becomes a beggar on world streets,
And absence of subsidy empties the pockets of the middle class,
Wages of labourers becomes unsustainable,
Ecological succession applies, poor dies rich lives.

Does it not matters to the king in the rock?
A land with measureless milk and honey,
Yet poverty becomes a heroic monster in countless households,
Does it not matters to the king in the rock?

How long will areas of the Niger bear these burdens?
When will they be relieved of the yoke of their task masters?
Oh how they had a king with human heart,
They would have become a land to be married.

They are deserted among the commons,
Their seat can’t be found among the nobles,
The lips of their magistrates speak no truth,
Their princes are cruel and pervert in their ways.

Their young men seek asylum in strange lands,
Their maidens are violated and abuse within and without,
Their sons and daughters lie in the den of kidnappers,
No trusted rescue mission in the land.

Areas of the Niger hear my counsel,
Yield to this glooming cry of your bowels,
Lest your balconies become a shadow in time,
And your maidens become unmarried.