Tell Goodluck

Some pains may never be forgotten
even when the wound is no longer fresh,
we pretend, We laugh, yet Joy is no where to be found.

Please tell Goodluck Jonathan,
if you see him passing through your window in his new private jet,
to subsidy his talks with actions,
to protect his pride with humility
and to zero his mind from hydrapology.

Tell him that,
Sometimes our basket cannot hold our tears though we cry,
Sometime we may be pregnant with tears, though we smile,
Sometimes our villages may be filled with broken promise, yet we hope.
But then, our hope may never be enough, though we believe.

Tell him softly as I say, no fumbling,
with a little seasoning, pepper, sweat,
as a price for unity,
but with tears to protect our integrity.

Please tell him,
to remember his beginning, though he may be shy
and to be a good man, no shaking,
as we plan to live together in style.

Freedom

Yes, we were right,
I dance, you dance,
then it call for question, interogation, manipulation and segregation,
but as we stood prepared to die,
so it's seem,
you reminded us of our tales,customs and tradition,
yes, everyone has a right to tell, smile, cry, live and die,
offcourse, that's the true meaning of life.