OUR PALMWINE CHAIRMAN
History shall never be erased
From the book of times
...
THE REIGN OF KING KOKO
The premier abode of
The living books
...
UNDER THE SHADE OF GROWING LETTUCE BY DAYO DESINA PETERS
When with prophetic eyes
i prophesize the doom
...
here lies the beheaded
waves of the Khan sphinx...
the throbbing hoes
of these soldiers in red garments
...
dayo desina peters is the second child of Reverend and Mrs Sunday Dimeji Desina. His younger sister and the only girl (FIKAYO) in the family means so much to him. dayo desina peters studies in the University of Ibadan. He spends much of his time philosophizing about the existence of God.)
Our Palmwine Chairman
OUR PALMWINE CHAIRMAN
History shall never be erased
From the book of times
History shall ever hunt
The hiding hoodlum in hot house
Crimes and devilish acts
Shall be brought with the sword
To bite that which professes sainthood
Many moons ago
The magic merchant of Mellanby
With top tunes
Did a festival of victory celebration
Waters flowed; juice swallowed
Slippery floor; slippery men
Intoxication of cataract eyes
And white minds in blood colour
Mellanbites turn drinkites
Dance of a heinous crime
And victory of filthy freedom
The colossus
Perched on a wooden plate with rests
Looked forward
To the beginning of thuggery calculations
Our lot
Sacrificed to the intoxicating wine
Our integrity
The smelling place of a swine
And our freedom
Killed with maggots from the wine
Mellanbites preach; he breach
The peace ascertained in trouble
But ours is the sacrificed lamb
Of the hand of Abraham
Heads bang
On iron body
Display of madness
On UCH road
Galloping with a brush
In his crooked cavity
But our eyes
Closed to the truth
And our brain
Omitted our coming losses
To largely encompass
The sanity of votes
And we sold our generation
For a cup of toxic wine
Now that the doors to our future
Is closed
And what tomorrow has in stock
We are ignorant of
Then,
Let’s clasp our hands
In way of prayers
And our heads bowed
In the eastern direction
Let’s pray for the uncertainty
Of our future
For with opened eyes
We sold our gentle generation
For a cup of toxic wine
And a bite of bad brew.
POSTSCRIPT:
Forget instincts and sentiments. The reality is the truth and to make us patriots, let us understand the truth. I know the brush shall prickle, the lion shall roar and the elephant shall trumpet in anger but, forget instincts and sentiments so as to REMEMBER THE BOND THAT GLUED US TOGETHER…