OLD MAN TIME

Old Man Time

Drumbeats of old, tightened skins,

Breathing out rhythms of the black soul.

The lash of civilization cut short our song,

Taking our spirit and binding us in chains.

 

Intoxication of power; this power first stolen,

Now returned, is dressed in democracy

Of a few monarchies and takes to the streets

In habitual confrontation with the discontented.

Cacophonies of airplanes and machine guns

Ra-ta-ta-ing a disserviced society.

Onitsha tradesman clashing in cutlass juggle

With the cattle herder that seeks Allah’s face.

The cause? I know not.

Screaming mothers Raped, mauled, battered and butchered.

Tearful, fearful children Orphaned, destitute, malnourished

Yet carrying guns.

Swaggering, gin and hemp deranged brothers

Holding guns for strangers,

Screaming war songs and battle cries

Tinted with blurry spittle at familiar faces.

Suddenly, ceasefire…Realization? Who knows…

Throwing away of hackles to entertain shackles

As khaki and jackboots Press oppression into souls,

Already bent souls.

Self enrichment permanently implemented.

Crusaders imprisoned, Blinded and castrated,

Tortured and hanged.

Mothers are thrown down from buildings.

Sycophants applaud and egg on

“Glorify thyself!”

Death is sudden, unexpected and unwanted.

Fingers are pointed, Bent and broken.

A new dawn? Beautiful sunlight?

Ha! No! A torch! It is still night.

Agbada hiding khaki;

General is replaced with chief

But the boots remain the same.

Power corrupts and Absolute power…

You know the rest.

Power corrupted so absolutely

That power now means corrupt.

To be completely absolute that is the truth.

Till date we ask what,

What happened to the drumbeats

Of old tightened skins,

Breathing out rhythms of the black soul?

photo credit:  http://www.funnyjunk.com/funny_pictures/4633548/Old+man/