I sit at an angle
At the table head
To watch children of men.
Full blooded deceit on rampage
With false wisdom of struggle.
A layer of evil venom
Behind eyelids of decency
Emptiness, complete, merges with ignorance
Hidden in the rib cage of animal.
Cocoyam planters, always plotting
Always busy harvesting plantain.
Wrong-headed beasts, facing mirrors
But standing upside down.
Tongues arriving one hour earlier
Than the brain, the heart nowhere to be found.
Apes in shrouds of self-disdain
Struggling to think politics.
And I sit back
Laughing at a thousand pretences
And reverted into my ancient silence,
That great answer to fools.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem