ARE POETS’ WORDS ENOUGH?
Words, a poet spills
Like vomited pills
Words laden with meanings
Either to encumber the ears
Or ease the heart it pierces

Osundare, the Sango of our time
Spilling words like fire which rhyme

Ose* Sango summoned thunder
As your pen, a harbinger
To our disabled mother
Marooned in a season by a leader

'Ours to plough, Not to plunder' - your words
But Greed makes no one ploughs,
'They have lynched the lakes'. Who?
Our leaders
'They have slaughtered the sea'. Who?
Our religious leaders
Mountains have been mauled - by who?
Gullible followers

Yet you give us hope:
‘Our earth will not die’

She is dying in anguish
Hopelessness ravages here essence
She has lost her rhythm in the face of ambush
Orchestrated by science

Science without conscience
Savaging or ravaging?
Science of corruption
Conscience of disruption

Where is the hope, Osundare?
Her case worst than Abiku's 
Whose deliverer, in the array 
Of men in collar and lawanis* 
Has been arraigned for extortion

Where's the respite?
We've been tsunamined

Have you not heard the rustling of the ground
In preparedness for the coming eruption
One that will be without remedy.