The Black Water Avengers Poem by Timothy Faboade

When the black water was got
At the deep, watery region,
All limped to get their slot
Forgetting the will of the Union

Away they threw cutlass and hoe
Hurried to the rig with digger
Oblivious of the later waiting woe
For they wanted the land bigger.

Amidst the National struggle
For the individual insatiable wealth,
Wrapped faces come to bugle
When out of their reach is the wealth.

All the thirty-six, indolent, poor fold
Their crippled hands looking up
At the stream of black watery gold
With their bottomless, giant cups.

Pressed to the wall, nightmares,
Language of the whirled government,
On the rich rivers they give chairs,
Out of reach is the denouement.

Rockets, guns, bombs they hire
Setting the pots of the black water ablaze
Behold the curly smoke after fire!
Who can stand to have a gaze?

The wealthy water mixes with blood
Of the men erected at various posts
Where the gold flows like flood.
Yet, the victims are the poor hosts.

The Aso Rock's pockets becomes empty
As it loses daily million barrels
To the Deltans' living aged enmity.
And the whole nation becomes barren.

They emerge in the rustic, messed Creek,
Roaring, threatening the sandy Rock
Which, being lazy, has a desert stock
And to the Avengers pretend to be meek.

In their fiery eyes are sharp blades,
In their stony hearts are protests
Ah! The Rock is losing its Shades
And it its many a child molests.