The National Call

On ruptured walls in a crying society
Lay water-washed, fading images
Of local famous crooks, decried of larceny
Who for the sake of cast votes, ran off our rustic vicinity

On policed streets, are polymer notes of twenty naira
Travelling from hand to hand, and into deep black pockets
Potholed roads with hollows mighty enough to swallow careless goats
Sit in the asphalted earth, with the looks of bald cheated gentlemen

In the neighbourhood, are boreholes that are bored of waterworks
The animated taps that once hissed, belched and rumbled
Have all grown quiet and suffer the insomnia of aqua current
With a faint grumble if touched, and a sober whisper if forced

Under green trees and leaking roofs, children listen and teachers teach
So, inside exam halls, pupils whisper and students sing answers
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