The Voiced Silence Poem by Adenrele Adebayo

In the yesteryears were weed amidst his vegetation,
The weeds feast to eye of the doomed and faeces to the nostrils of the happy look,
With mockery they hail him in the happiness of sorrow;
For he'd walked with a tattered cloth on the royal road.
.
Hissing was his family lineage when they saw him walk,
A Sun on their locust butter they say,
A rain to their salt, a root to Sugar;
And the Òkòló that brought disgrace to their family in Òyó.
.
He'd wept the needless tears in the valley of hardship,
He'd swallowed his mucus to bribe his id,
He'd walked with a rotten slippers on a golden road,
There was an acidic rain on his decidous tree,
There was a cart afront his Horse,
And hour has ran after his second.
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He was like a boneless Snail in the jungle of rugged Lions,
A faece at the tip plate of Gbègìrì,
A mightless demon in the jungle of Àrògìdìgbà,
A tasteless salt in their soup,
A foamless soap on their dirtiness
And a bile to their tea.
.
Here the then Servant holds the string of the then Kings,
The Redeemer hath strenghten his Rat to lie Cat on table,
The Emperor of the Pearly Gates hath revived his dead Òpòtó,
For his garden hath been endowed with the Great Judge's roses.