To An Idiotic Tribe Poem by Eromo Egbejule

To an idiotic tribe that I am one of.
A breed of warped sense,
Peculiarities and a sixth sense.
Together with the weird and not-usual in one kitty
A pack of crazy sages
And gentlemanly heretics.
Men of muse and tranquil vibe,
Who call a spade by its rightful name.
We are the house of Chloe,
With words as revealing as Cossy’s cleavage

Eccentrics and isolationists

With a tugging depression
And an unhappy disposition
More often than not.

So, say I to thee green,
Make not the crooked paths straight
But follow your kindred spirit
And deviate not from the meandering pattern
Nature has in you inscribed.

To us all,
I wish many more days of uninterrupted idiotry.