This Lump Of Lead Poem by Haruna Garba

Here we are Barnacles and whales
Beneath us are the flectuaing tides
But as we cut across leaps 'nd bounds
Suddenly some cyclone up, springs
Here go the commensulators' screams
Death is not fussy about who goes

This lump of lead called brain
Awry could turn and you're slain
So as yours can't endure the pain
They strike just to relieve the brain
Reasoning is fast sent to drain
When tribalism is up the plane

These few winter Ospreys you see here?
We have our Cuckoos holidaying there
But for the eyes that can not well peer
A quince could be taken for a pear
Not until one had tasted the queer
Would he have every cause to fear