Return Of The Legends Poem by Tosin Abegunde

From its rising to the setting
Like the mission of the Sun,
On this ancient boulevard of strange tongue
Without which world whirls wretched,
A legendary feat we attain.

Configured by magical hands
In this kiln of gram-ture-phone
Like an agonizing beans cake
That groans in a hot palm oil pot
Set on an aaro with a lake of fire
Joyfully licking its buttocks!

That was to quarantine us for this,
Mission of the vision:
'Kill the labour casket;
Spare the favour market
That 'apes obey' be sung no more'.

The Caribs and Mullato'll not forget Harlem
For the semantics of their pragmeme
Negates their phonological nuances.

Coming home from this bloodless war,
With hearts joy filled,
Our boots will soon be full of pride
As examined by the true massacre of ignorance,
I see a new trend in brain-sactions
I see fortune planting grains of success on our soil.

Thanks to the bakers, who in love,
Sold us out full-baked.