“The sun will shine on those who stand before it shines on those
who kneel under them” -Things Fall Apart (Chinua Achebe)

Two of three parts

I
The silver sickle moon
is rounding off;
Shooting stars
ceaselessly light the sky;
Brown is the season
and fireworks of famine
become a common sight;
Drunken sounds of talking drums
laze dizzily from numb thumbs
through the wine-eyed village
announcing with dolorous tunes
news of no use-
Trees thrown down by inclement winds;
Ants crawl from
underground Anthills to fetch food;
The New Moon is approaching
the rains would soon brim cesspools.

The bookmakers
in their three piece
designer suit descend
like flies on maggot-infested ordure
on the land
drawing into use
Quivering quills
Indelible ink
Scarlet scrolls
Steel tools
to print on wood what they could have
Avoided!

The pedantic Archimedeses and Pythagorases
of complex mathematical equations
drag their bald heads widely open
to assess the loss for the moon-ending
Today!

How many got burnt in the fires?
How many drowned in the deluge?
How many drained in the Horn?
...on the SandDunes to the Greenland?
...on the south of the Gulf?
...along the Cape?

Their illogical logarithms solve them all;
Presentations at a series of seminars
in Highrises in heavenly capitals
earn them numerous academic accolades.

The Full Moon has ended
a new one is earnestly forming
the dove could not peck an olive leaf
so soon they would parachute from
the bellies of lavish Airbuses
breaking their necks under huge suitcases
stuck with scrolls, ink and quills
to take stock of the
Burnt
Drowned
and Drained again-
Death from juices that are not
Available-
(vinegar squashed onto thirsting tongues)
Their boastful knowledge includes not
Salvation
but Differentiation of eternal Damnation!

When powdery cowries fill punctured pockets
the marketplace always seems empty
the fecund fruits still remain barren;
Grains and cereals locked
in impregnable doors with huge price tags;
Once fleshy bodies degenerate into
bony collar chains around craning lanky kinky necks
from airy twirly twines of torn thirsting tines.
Dairy droplets to feed fading souls
spilt into a dry droughting dunes-
Death fixes the foetal face
spiny whips lap wizened skin.

It is approaching in ormolu wheels
from flaming cloistral catacomb
with verdigrised spangles and ankhs
driven by four full-blown stallions
fattened on grains and viscous milk
in foreign lands that knew
nor thirst
nor hunger!

The papaw tree does not challenge
the hurricane in matters of strength;
Cockroaches do not call
Cocks to wrestling contests;
Cocks quarrel not with crocodiles;
So in likeness of all weaklings we bow deep
to the approaching steed and get
carried away to a place far and faint!

Sirens of promises broken than spoken
escape from loudspeakers
of wobbly radios that hang on
frail branches in the storms-
figment of spectral rays loosely tie
our heartstrings together and give us
reasons to doubtfully hope-
Hope not from our own gods
but from deifications from callous hands
worshipped in our hearts and minds.

The desert abounds promised-waters
and leaves fall and flowers wilt

The specious mirages dissolve
in relentless drizzles
before its barrage of deceits
cripple ailing hearts;
The realities of our loneliness in death
resurrects from a hypnotised slumber:

They are no gods, only wild
wild hungrily hunting wolverines
disciple by vultures, shrikes and cormorants
to kill, scavenge and fill their paunch-
We are alone in their cold penury.

II
And it came to pass
when man slew his brother
on the field-
It is the Judgement Day
clouds cringe in fright
cutting short the sun and moon;
The air ages angrily into windy storms
as cyclones carrying shattered cars
and tattered clothes
emerge from the four corners;
Thunder impinges the bottomless heavens;
Flashes of light sear
the sable vault;
Seismic waves convulse the roads;
Seas roar with raging waves;
Children and all fold into unidentifiable
drossy dollop;
Blood mixes with earth!

With bayonets
men with roller-coaster thoughts
tumble thumbed governments
to claim godship for themselves
from gods whose seven and Ten Commandments
They have shot into pieces;
From greed-grown hollow-headed
intellectual junkies-
Supporters whose philistine sight
rest not on the suffering populace.

Iron pellets wheeze sharply
through the shuddering air
parting through as oily hair;
Up from the sky
rockets and grenades drizzle
drenching the playing field
With crimson rain;
Blood mixes with earth!

Headless heads stroll streets;
Arms and legs gyrate in circle;
Blood mixes with earth!

In haphazard twists, turns and twines
bullets solemnly salutes smiling temples,
embracing each with nostalgic judasic kiss
betraying the weakness inherent in man;
Babies with mouths in rictus of fear
barely hang unto threadbare
clothes against bared-teeth wind;
Blood mixes with earth!

On ramshackle streets
congeries of glass, concretes, shrapnel
bodies, skull (sprawling in stuttering silence)
uniforms, fuliginous fumes,
burnished black boots, helmets
armour vehicles, jets
—form the city’s décor.

At gunpoint
husbands flee from fey families;
sharp teeth serrate into unripe pomegranate
spilling its red untasted acidulous juice
from roughly torn rind-
Crucifixion of the neophytes!

At gunpoint
in perfect anarchy
rebels red with leaves
argue over the sex of an unborn foetus,
high in mind they unzip bulged bellies
with glowing blades, revealing a clot
of unformed blood.

Psychedelic kids
who have toddled many miles
from reality
in their vile flotsam daydreams
who breathe strength from
Leaves
Guns-
(Carapaces of a worrying soul)
butcher wrists and hands
under the supervision of a merciful
demented god.

At the crossroads to Waterloo...
Hutus meet Tutsis
Konkombas meet Nanumbas
North meet South
Blood against Blood
and the fight against inferiority
begins;
Wives draw blood from their husbands
and they from their loins;
Tribes at Tribes’ throat
and the wave of anarchy blows across the land
peace is exotic
even under a roof.

Nepotism
Racism
Tribalism
Ethnicism
(The prognostic signs)
breed in the heart;
The contagious killing progressively infects all;

The smothering of a race begins;
The bloodbath ripples in circular lines-

Orwell’s being vindicated:
it cannot be for all
but for the few!

It is the Judgement Day
and none can be absent!

Fear grips all
fear of living
for each, living on the brink of life,
is a standing corpse
awaiting death on the
click of the second!