In the belly of struggle,
Integrity is thing of the humble
Compromise runs through heart’s hurdle.
With little or nothing to rekindle…
Hustle is the order of the day,
Be it legal, illegal, doesn’t matter the way
So far it pays
And puts Boss the happy way
The street is cold
The city now bold and its hold
Intriguingly feasting on several working souls,
Even after the day’s scold.
When it rains, it pours.
Young lives have their visions blurred.
Souls wasted to counted scores
Resulting from Foes’ counter of scars’ score in retaliation galore.
Mother growled in anger of distance
When pain unbearably pounce
Holding firm with memory thorns
As it imprints wounds deeply, on her heart burnt!
Mates grow cold
Ready to confront the Odds
Against the saying “Revenge is best served cold”
Frat’ war is about to unfold.
Smiting, with the prowess of powder
Sniffing the nostrils, for the crave of power
To attain the impossible.
Maim, kill, spill blood, yet with chuckles.
What a Bush of ills!
A center of shaky gravity
To arrive a “revered” status.
For an unprecedented nucleus?
Sins in filthy scenes
Spills of Reddish substances
As they, in turn sip the ‘calabash-ic’ liquid
Gbosa! They share the spoils in minutes.
And when gravity parboils…
The center goes sour
The jargon they spake in turns
Swimming down their loins…
The out-casted fallen one with horn
Has successfully, to the youth, done
And convince their consciousness, dead to the core,
Caging their hearts with his lures.
In his lures, victims bled.
Engrossed in the passions of Lust, their love fled.
Their Souls shed tears of life held
They’ve lost their way to divine Shed.
Ah! Lad turned Lass, Lass to Lad
She, she, He-he, what’s good now turned bad
The sun has grown cold; the moon now bald
The world has grown sad.
Ghandi’s “eye for an eye
Will only make the world go blind”;
Is not believed by some. Revenge, missiles,
Violence, only makes the world go round.
‘Getting high only makes you see clearer
Being a mob will not get you robbed,
Initiated into a fraternal brotherhood is even better’
Are inspirations from the fallen ones with horn.
It was said, it has been prophesied
It was heard, recorded in the Holy Book.
We’ve read, the thought had us terrified,
But yet, in his lures, Men are still getting hooked.
Ears are blind, Eyes are deaf,
Confusion is root-solid in our planet Earth
Man has self destruct
We need a divine saviour that will come, re-construct.
The land, pregnant with destructive sorrow
Raped by the outcasted fallen with horn and foes.
Is in labour and will born soon of tomorrow.
Divine Saviour, come! come rescue us from this Soon of tomorrow.
Come, be our shield and fortress
When this tribulation is finally born to oppress
Oh, Divine Saviour take us to your rest
When your trumpet sounds and souls are ushered to your nest.
PS: I must give credit to @BamsAde for his wonderful touch on this piece.