Uncorking a Bottled Bile

by Nwachukwu Egbunike

a man hit baba iyabo

the wrath of stifled bile

could take it no longer

for heat and hate boils down under.

here comes baba

clutching his agbada

steps with a swagger

into his oye-pumping sleeper.

out of nothing

came the plummeting

how can this happen

to the dean of power?

kum, kum, kum, kum

fell on baba’s face

from the cathedral of powerlessness

leaped forth mighty punches.

baba is victim today

who will be next tomorrow

need no seer.

from the lawbreakers in chambers of sham

to the petty emperors in the states

to the retired but still thieving savants

and their many first ladies.

tomorrow will be your day

only that it will be no punches but pebbles

hurled with precision

for sucking the public till dry

for denying many a sunrise

while you basked in moonlight.


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