I hear you are an exorcist,

Born to kill my kind. I wish you more than luck

‘cos this is who I am.

I am the spirit of Nigeria and the worst

Of all my kind.

Last update: 16-12-2007 22:13

 …his land is now poor

and so he seeks another land,

a place within the confines of his motherland.

With his tools on his head,

and his rags on his back,

he sets out and meets other sons of his mother.

All he sees on their smiling faces

are smiles of welcome and of love.

Then as he stoops to ground his tools,

shadows from behind fall across his view.

The shadows draw out knives,

he realizes the knives are for him.

He turns, rising,

and all he sees now

are dark faces of anger and of hate.

His brothers step forward to slay him

and he turns to run and then awakens.

He awakens to his fears

and his sorrow is great.

His cheeks are now wet with green and white tears,

as he mourns for her, as he shares her fate.

“Oh! Our poor defiled mother.

Your sorrow is one too great to bear,

for your sons delight in slaying each other,

and to all your pleas, turn and jeer.”

Last update: 17-10-2007 20:06