You are the Editor (Sad Poems)


May They Prosper Not

May the kings prosper not
Who mop our sweat for the rituals of wealth
And bind our legs and hands
With the shackles of slavery
May the kings prosper not
Who gaol us for the same crimes
They committed but are strutting
Like giants in the land.

May the Niger river
Prosper them not by his copious amounts
Of liquid gold he deposits in the delta area
Which is the only glue
That binds the empire.
May the war we fought for resource control
Never rear his ugly head
With bombs and guns and other munitions
Of hate and death;
May the amnesty we got
Floating on a plater of oil
See the dogs playing with bones
While the oil flows.
Now we hear there's neglect
In the north;
And those killing the citizens
Are asking for a handsome reward
Or the kings remove the shrapnel of war
In the north East and make habitable again

May the kings prosper not
Who kill all that bear our heritage
In the delta area;
When the clock strikes time
The thieves may run
But they'll have no hiding place
Our ancestors have seen
That the goose that lays the golden eggs
Is in dire dearth
Their rage and wrath
Will burn in flames of death
And who follow the kings;
Mop our sweat for the rituals of wealth
Will gnash their teeth
In the cauldron of death.

Tony Adah
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