Today’s writer has written an introduction to his awesome poetry. Please enjoy.
There is a certain amount of person’s you need to fuck up before you hit gold. For my country,that is 160million and that itself is a huge achievement for a country that gold isn’t its main export. A sequel longer than the game of thrones series won’t even be enough for me to start to describe the different ethnic groups lest start about religious hate. A country so diverse, you could create two other countries from; well, some people did try. The dream had been an ideal black nation, but reality is a bitch. The leaders corrupt, their actions as if constructed to contradict the line from the anthem that says ‘the labours of our heroes past shall never be in vain’. Once upon a time, the only problem we had was not knowing how to spend our money. Now, the only problem we have is that we have too many problems. The mood is dark, like the liquid that brought the curse, like the streets at night, like the hearts of the people it has suffered. Our nation is not bound in freedom, and peace and justice definitely doesn’t reign.
Pen to paper
Let me scribble
But, my thoughts are unformed
Like babies unborn
When the mind is pregnant with ideas but can’t deliver
What medical condition do we then term that?
When laziness surpasses literary prowess
What social condition do we also term it?
What new jargon will Mr president term this?
When people are corrupt before they come into power
Do we still then foolishly say ‘power corrupts’?
When your country attempts to kill you
What shall we name this treason?
Who then punishes the punisher?
A country with hero’s,
only in the national anthem
A country with so many missing zero’s,
Well, a trillion or so isn’t too much to ask for public service
A country where there is no poverty,
Only on instagram.
A country with dreamers and hopers
A country with blind patriots,
A country that has eaten the proverbial ‘tomorrow’s yam’
A country on the brink of self destruction
Tick, tock, tick, tock
All is not lost yet,
If only this can be seen as our crucible
The necessary evil
The life changing accident
The change that changes us
It begins with the blind patriot,
The nonchalant idiot,
It begins with Nigerians; not Yoruba, Igbo or Hausa
It begins with us
They say I am a foolish boy in a too wise world.
Who am I to say otherwise?
So, let my ink flow
Pen to paper, I still want to scribble.
Written by Hassan Yahaya Taiwo
Follow him on twitter @hassytee
Read his blog: writtenwhisperz.wordpress.com