King's Death Poem by Olorode Olorunleke

Right upon the street I behold the lay low of our people's prone.
In a que they glow their faces to bone
Just as the one on the organization scheme.
See, oh see their feet clocking their head just as being in the limb.
My heart so downcast but not egger to either hear if the works of our northern friends is coming upon us.
Yet we desire not to share in the fruits they share on horse.
I with no hesitation overheard the King's death in their hands,
The greatest Alayeluwa of our lives.
This being the one our thought lay whose shoulder our existence do glory forsaken the creator of our lives.
Not like our Paramount rulers whose existence impact not the common man.
While upon their death seven heads will go in the senseless nature of Nnuego's Pal.
In thoughtless notions that we are all mad men chasing shadow.
This our government must lay waste into unknown existence in saving us from famine.
In melancholy we desired to resurrect this king upon which our time do spend.
Then set in a soft voice pointing at a building of illumination.
This IBEDC is daily failing us on upon several changes in administration.
Glory be to God whom we've lost focus on for sending the voice that made the pointing on the only church along the road.
Upon which I also que in resurrecting this king Tecno and Itel.