The Lion King and the Aso Rats

(A dramatic poetry)

“There is only one king in the Villa.
His power so great that he dictates for the territory”
“Yes! We know”
“He walks in the pride of the cabals”
“Oga, talk weytin you wan talk, we know”
“They formulate policies short of the jungle’s view”
“Oh! Baba, that one no be today.”


“But, I’m afraid, there
Seems to be a power shift.”
“Iro nla, na lai”
“Ok, when last did you hear from the Lion king?
When last did you see any member
Of the Cat family Cat-walk?”
“Hmm! Truly, e don tay ooo. "


“Then I need not tell you that the Lion King just returned
From the white Cats’ territory.”
“Ehn, weytin him go do?”
“…em, medical rest, yes, check up, treatment, bla-bla-bla.”
“But, Weytin do Dr. Kangaroo, Dr. Antelope,
And Native-Doctor Buffalo?
Have they all vanished from this forest?”


“Hmm! Not at all,
The king might just be afraid of possible revenge.
Know ye not that the splash of their blood
Is the Lions’ delight?
Hence, he needs treatment elsewhere, where safe.”
“Little wonder! The Hyenas and Jackals
Dominate the territory. ”


“Alas! The king is back, but the forest is burning hot,
The damage so great that it might take
The remainder of his reign to build.
And yet, Aso Rats did not help matters,
They’ve destroyed the throne,
And are denying the king access to the palace.
What an act! Even the Hyenas dare not.


These Rats must have dined with the devil.”
“But, Oga, wait o, where them Cabals go?
The Chicken cabinet, oh sorry! The kitchen cabinet?”
“Uh! Those ones, like chickens,
Packing corns, behind doors.
Soon another Lion shall reign,
So, they need stock for odd times.


“Chai, I won die!”
“Show! Neva die oo, together we live this.
Go ready your dues; the Tigers will soon raid towns,
4.9 Billion Laira only, pere,
Would be needed to evict these terrorists”
“Haaaaaaaa! When we never chop,
Now I’m dead, Oga biko, no wake me.”

THE LAND

In the land far away, Long a journey one can't walk a day, The heaven is close to eart', But the earth is far from heaven’s sit. There, children merry and wallow, And the old, the joy they swallow.

The land, ploughed long ago, When there was no time to blow. The frontiers saw draught ahead, So they tilled while it was wet and mild. Now it birth their children milk and honey And they all share with love, peace, harmony.

This deed travels far and near, Wowing the blind to stare. On ballistic birds many travel to see. They enjoy the sweet company, So, to stay, they trade their strength; Tilling the sojourned land to death.

But our land, we left fallow’, Like dreads, no path to follow. Our hoes, dead, lie behind the water pot. Adamu, Nkechi, Bayo are still heading to the ‘port. The old, knowing no path to walk, Resign to fate, and talk.

The young versus the old; aflame, Pelting each other with blame’. Because our actions and inactions, Minus consideration and deliberations, Might bring to knees The coming breed for garri and peas.

But cry not for our Land, Ay! It's not as bad as described Our land is in use. Yes, it is! The final resting place for cacasses. Even the sojourners want their Remains interred here.

JOURNEY TO NOWAY By: @amiable9ke

Surely, there was a beginning. The present tells me so. No movement without cause Knowledge ma'e me know. Beautiful, I guess; Echoes of nostalgia, crack our ribs.

The day, very old, Bore us a fierce night, A rehearsal for Armageddon, mayhap. Many got freaked out Like a train that lost its rail.

Yet, we pressed on Like a mad man chasing nothing. With a dim future ahead, We struggle still. Not minding the path. It's like a road not too taken, Rough as the path of Nebuchadnezzar.

The rail track barren and rotten, The road locked up like dred. Our hungry warders lean to their post With one eye closed to traffic jam The other open in search for Ogas. "Anything for the boys" they ask.

Emergency vehicles no longer in motion Allowing Death to snatch from mother's arm. Desperate nights rob our sweat. The chorus of bereavement hurts my ears. Corporate beggers file our street. Many who were once boss.

Each day, from the society, Evolve thousands of theories, One important for this: the end justifies the means. But the means begat the end. The failed institution, I mourned The young, I pity For the society that compelled our path, Failed to light it.

The desolate night I join in prayer, Telling the most high to wake the sleeping moon. It's her turn to resume duty, that we may see through the night. Our journey since independence, Is to Noway,

THE LAND


In the land far away,
Long a journey one can't walk a day,
The heaven is close to eart',
But the earth is far from heaven’s sit.
There, children merry and wallow,
And the old, the joy they swallow.


The land, ploughed long ago,
When there was no time to blow.
The frontiers saw draught ahead,
So they tilled while it was wet and mild.
Now it birth their children milk and honey
And they all share with love, peace, harmony.


This deed travels far and near,
Wowing the blind to stare.
On ballistic birds many travel to see.
They enjoy the sweet company,
So, to stay, they trade their strength;
Tilling the sojourned land to death.


But our land, we left fallow’,
Like dreads, no path to follow.
Our hoes, dead, lie behind the water pot.
Adamu, Nkechi, Bayo are still heading to the ‘port.
The old, knowing no path to walk,
Resign to fate, and talk.


The young versus the old; aflame,
Pelting each other with blame’.
Because our actions and inactions,
Minus consideration and deliberations,
Might bring to knees
The coming breed for garri and peas.


But cry not for our Land,
Ay! It's not as bad as described
Our land is in use. Yes, it is!
The final resting place for cacasses.
Even the sojourners want their
Remains interred here.

Like dew,
It only wet our appetite.
Like wild wind,
It rushes to and fro,
Giving every man a sense of experience.

It starts cool, like morning,
Full of hope at midday,
Fun to experience at afternoon,
But always dozy at evening,
Till it becomes history at night.

Love or lust?
Eagles only see the line in-between.
The later, I believe,
Makes us wonder if the former exist,
Little wonder we don't care.

To love is to fight,
But To lust, is fun,
To fight is to stand for what you believe,
While, fun is to enjoy while it last,
Caterus paribus.