I am accustomed to sing of love
Among the pristine marigolds of dawn,
Like some poet would serenade beauty
Cushioned by the surf caress of women.
Between the emerald boulevard of obeche,
I am set in a burden to sing
Of the pastoral poetry of my kindred
Slaving hungry in the savannah of foods.
I am set in a burden to sing
Darkness overriding our homes,
Like the howl of pipelines beneath our
Earth dense with barrels of crude excess;
I am set in a burden to sing
The behemoth belch of fumes
Cramming the nostrils of Escravos,
Choking the lungs of Nun and Forcados;
I am set in a burden to sing
The dirge of barren fields and barns,
The murmur of slick-smeared mangroves,
The sour breath of fish steaming the shore.
I am set in a burden to sing
Hacked dugout canoes drifting
On the salted spine of scorched creeks,
And bones of frogs fossilised for future;
I am set in a burden to sing
The limping cock, the mangy dog,
The one-eyed goat, the wounded pig;
All the graffiti of sickness and sadness;
I am set in a burden to sing
Boys and girls in sore scramble
For rusted pipes spewing yellowed
Water like gonorrhoea-pained penis;
I am set in a burden to sing
How mothers torment their brow
At the slightest warble of wings above,
Like Heaven's bread will plop in their laps;
I am set in a burden to sing
The haste of fathers breeding waifs;
Their wait like Simeon's pregnant
Like their dissolution of time in alcohol;
I am set in a burden to sing
Gaping, black effigies of houses
Cuddled by the careless arms of fire
Of the froth-clouded, hot-headed ruler;
I am set in a burden to sing
Ugly swell of bodies strewn about,
Limbs and arms mashed in the mud
By the toothed tread of military tanks;