A Tale Of Wazobia Poem by Tosin Abegunde

Brewed to the brim
As though a dream,
The tale of biazowa.
Within a tower
Lies my card
With the head bald
Bend on a bench
To tell a tale of the mesh.

The corrupt
The bankrupt,
Ex-convicts
And bandicts,
All on the seat of power
As against the book of power.
The books we read
Negates the tread of bread.

They feed u with lies,
Keeping your future to the flies.
'Oh God!
Give us a gourd
Filled with wine of mercy,
For we tread a path very dicey
Stationed for obstruction
Awaiting demolition, destruction! '

The self acclaimed Messiah
Turns to be the best liar
Having flair for loot and deceit
On sold goods without receipt.
They are indeed prophet
Whose congregation aims profit.
Posterity shall judge
For the future locked in lodge.