The White Tokens Of Ojukwu Poem by Rex-mayor Ubini

A cluster of black birds,
Brought forth from eggs,
Cloaca by different primogenitors,
Who lived aloof from one another
In a tripartite plot parted by voyaging tears,
Prior the myths of foots and claws,
On this planet with thorny floor.
Prior the birth of black mother,
And six sisters across the waters.
Prior the refuge ark of Noah,
And clowns smothered by a choleric cloud,
Prior the incursion of fire flood,
Over the land of Sodom and Gomorrah,
And Lot who divorced a pillar of salt,
Likewise we, yet to be hitched heads,
Marked the wet letter Y,
Etched on our green soil,
By the finger of an ageless breath.

Tell me Wazobia
Can the babelonians
Build a tower of utopia?
You that speak to strange ears,
Hoping they will read your lips and come,
These chips of the Niger-Congo,
The Afro-Asiatic and the Benue-Congo.

I the river on your left,
Won't wrap my hands on my breast;
Where peace is an agony
With a snail's voice crying out loud
Stick your ears around
Hear you voices of red tears
Prostrated on our soil
By the echoes of lasted bombs and guns
They moan, they murmur,
They sing the same old song
They beat out the old drum
With the same old rhythm

You have come along way,
And well done your eagles have done their best
Your heroes have done their best,
Hawks perched on Iroko's shoulder,
Fowls gathered for chirping gossips,
Well done you have done your best.

Your eyes have seen the truth,
Your ears have heard the truth,
Shelled under the tongue of profiting racket,
Your heroes of peace espied no end,
To the wild noise in the land of babel,
Chose not to return to their wives,
To tale the saga of their vain quest;
Instead they loot silvers and golds,
Never say you were not told,
But wake me if they return home,
To exhume the white tokens of Ojukwu.