Poetry

AT THE END, MY FAILURE By Uthman Samad O.

Written by Bada Yusuf Amoo

I have spent days with focus

Some without it

N’ I focus on two things life has taught

The good and the bad

 

The life has lent me the Good time

The good time with oversize spectacle with a mirror

I can see clearly in the day

Take it to the dark and see my shame

As drawn in line with my poverty

 

The worse period is when I water

the spectacle with flexible leader

woven around the nostril straw

I realize the longevity of the right of the l and none of it

 

I see myself behind the civic tab in front

The giant voice of piercing the lock of truth

Also with the key to the nugget of bigger deeds

 

I pitched the most difficult riddle as my first

An inkling move I thought I couldn’t

I believe and weave with fate

At the end I fail my tasking, it is a failure

 

I know I was lured, I failed

Not my fault, the derailed minded mind

Who sat and politicized the script of the play

 

My fault remains on the relics I use with the foes I loathed

Who perpetrate the ‘behind the scene’ with the derailed

 

I blame him not, nor she

Not anon the non

I blame my ignorance of the bad nose fellow

Who smell not but the odour of war

 

They wage wars like the old messiahs

Who compel with forces

And adorn with braces

Across their faces

As I fear them the ladies

Falling, serving and seething for their freebies.

 

Oga boss, your time is singing up up

Hallelujah of the time has passed with the holy ghost

Only a fool can be fooled twine twice.

About the author

Bada Yusuf Amoo

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