The Corpse Of A Giant Poem by Akachukwu Lekwauwa

Come one, come all
From every cranny
The chief and the least of mourners,
Before the vultures gathers
Let us dissect the corpse of a giant
Shall we?
Perhaps we might find
That which snuffed his breathe
How bad he was pre-mortem
How badly rotten his body is, post-mortem

What is going on now?
Is it decay?
Could it be autolysis?
Maybe its corruptolysis!
The rancid odor wafting into air
Oozing through the borders
and assaulting
The delicate nostril of the oyibo
Rotten fish...cow dung...human faeces;
Rafflesia is surely a milder smelling corpse

Hold the head!
But leave not the least of the toes,
Carefully we shall cross-examine
The whole torso
With a razor-sharp honesty
We shall cut every member
And reveal where this rot began

Let us open the bowel
Shall we?
Beneath this distended belly
Lurks gut, intertwined with tribalism,
Nepotism, chauvinism
Bigotry,
Moral bankruptcy, autocracy
Decadence, intolerance
An assemblage, of mutilators
To tranquillity
And every other filth that life rebuffs,
Having no binoculars
Not observing within a distorted lens
With piercing clarity
We shall see.

Greet me not with outrage
For in much pessimism
Lies patrotism
When the obituary notice is served
And the funeral dirge is sang
I shall yet take up the cry
Of the chief mourner