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Blues For The New Senate King By Niyi Osundare

June 29, 2015

Behold, the People ask:

Who will save us from our Prostitutes in Power?

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                Part 1

He wanted so desperately to be King of Senate

He left the Path of Honour behind

Haba! He wanted so desperately to be King of Senate

He left the Path of Honour behind

He stabbed noble Faith and Trust in the back

And put the Traitor’s knife on the bonds that bind

 

Power-intoxicated, blinded by ambition

He only cares for three big people: “I, Me, and Myself”

Say, Power-drunk, blinded by ambition

He only cares for three big people: “I, Me, and Myself”

A renegade old book with phoney letters

Vacuous, thumb-stained on History’s shelf

 

His feet never know the way to the house of Honour

“Integrity” is visibly missing in his diction of Deceit

Yes, his feet never know the way to the house of Honour

“Integrity” is visibly missing in his diction of Deceit

He sold us cheap in the commerce of the backroom caucus

Coming back later with a false receipt

 

Cocky without conscience, rude without restraint

He traded away a victory won with our sweat and blood

Say, cocky without conscience, rude without restraint

He traded away a victory won with our sweat and blood

A discredited enemy behind his tarnished banner

He trampled the people’s Hope in the shameful mud

 

The fruit never falls far from its tree

True scion of a cold and crooked clan

Ha ha ha, a fruit never falls far from its tree

True scion of a cold and crooked clan

Broken banks, broken dreams, and broken lives

He’s a fitting heir to a dubious pedigree

 

               Part 2

PDP in the morning, Labour at noon, APC at night

Wind-vane politicians with multiple tongues

Say, PDP in the morning, Labour at noon, APC at night

Wind-vane politicians with multiple tongues

They plod through life like shameless masquerades

Their trails are littered by a litany of wrongs

 

Our rulers stink like festering corpses

Their crimes choke the startled world

Say, Nigeria’s rulers stink like festering corpses

Their nuisance chokes the startled world

Honourless, truthless, with hearts of stone

In league, all times, with treacherous forces  

 

Prostitute dealers, perfidious scoundrels

They sell us short in every market

Say, prostitute dealers, perfidious scoundrels

Selling us short in every market

They tilt the till to their bottomless pocket

And cripple the nation with their ruinous racket

 

Devoid of scruple, averse to sense, 

They blight the ballot and steal our vote

Alas, devoid of scruple, averse to sense

They blight the ballot and steal our vote

They cast us adrift on the swindled oceans

With tattered sails and leaking boat

 

And WE THE PEOPLE are the absent factor

Bought, sold, disdainfully discarded

Agbaga!* WE THE PEOPLE are the absent factor

Bought, sold, disdainfully discarded

Servile servants of mindless masters

We forgo our right to be well regarded

 

*Horror of horrors!

Niyi Osundare

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POETRY