In Nigeria, health now is a person
thrown like a dice-
The cheers of onlookers hang by a single thread
Synced with a plea to the gods for a six
Preferably a double six
Just to win , to make one-half chance to live
But the gods are long dead.
Their rounded bellies lay in oligarchy
a grave filled with the noise of greed
Weaved in branded camouflage at every campaign
Striking stinking sour manifestos-
Beneath which dwells their mouths-
The Insatiable gate of hell-
Where the wealth of the nation now goes.
Democracy they chant
Though power to the people now is a dart,
Thrown on the board of the selected few-
the ones which “hope”now fear-
For the one hundredth time, she was called
It wasn’t really her-
It was “government of me, for me and by me”
Who knew the sacred four letters could mean a gory sentence?
Health now is crimson red-
Painted by Fake “Da Vincis’ ”
Who holds the brush to make rough sketches
While cowardly flies to the white man to save themselves
For they can not stay endangered but pass a ladder to us-
Saying red is life.
IRENE
