REVOLUTION By Afolabi Zainab Omotayo

Written by Editor

Kowee yi o ke; eniyan lo ha
Timonism sprung from belief for the meek Kowee,
Just like the dead moose suspended in its own urine,
And a peacock plastered with rhino’s face;
Who doesn’t know the deception of the hawk,
dove sunder out by eagle;
“black feathers and black mind, dead brain”
Assent of this disparage, maybe being patriotic
Alas; not all hawks are patriotic
You can hear the sounds of my feet away.

Mickle as elephant close to Asia; with mind of an ostrich’s neck,
The truck of this elephant is the giant of all;
Filled with bounties and goodies of all kinds,
Yet look like a kwashiorkor worm.
No wonder the dove sunders out the eagle.
The sounds of my feet is very close.

We were sundered out, YeS!
THROUGH the consciousness of our consCIENCE!
Eagle is not only black; HE soar high above others
Afraid of nothing, hovering in space with full consciousness,
An erudite of its kind.
Eagle is not sunder out by THEM,
His lack of consciousness of conscience, sunder him out
The sounds of my feet is a step away.

THE matriarchal of an elephant is ruled out,
Bats walk in disguise,
Dolphins are more egoist
Dog’s nose is more dead to olfaction
Chaos has overtaken the den of lions
Lions preys on lion
Everyone is in shudder
The grizzled ones’ sight is blind,
The erudite cross their fingers,; “we saw the looming tribulation, you were dwarf in knowledge,
Elves in thinking, act like a giraffe’s neck with shallows in contribution”
You said, “what is in ink, but a layman’s laziness”
Yes! We exist in ink, live there, immortalized.
Now you ask, where are the ERUdites?
HERE, in the layman’s laziness ink.
Go back to history.

Where sabre-tooth wolf friend’s infant,
When the Sahara flows of Serene,
The Parakeet sang of thy greatness; Parrot was the town crier,
Bare feet were sandals,
ADI AGBON was multi-purpose,
Go back to time in history,
Before revolution came inform of civilization,
When buying and selling was anonymous,
When chameleon had one colour,
Because we were, we are, what is called abundance,

Your parrot now sings of the end time
Who makes up the giant of all?
Who sees everything as old?
Who is the selfish?
Who no longer walk bare feet?

There are no answers anywhere,
It is within,
Because, we are the REVOLUTION.

About the author


Bada Yusuf Amoo holds B.A in Literature in English from Obafemi Awolowo University, he is the publisher of thespeakingheart.com. He started the website in 2015, he has published both his works and other budding writers and poets on the website. He is a public commentators and his articles are on different websites.