By Chamberlain Dre.
We are quarreling over a graveyard of great ideas.
Wandering under skies filled with flying political spears and bombs from lying lips.
As much as I try to be careful, I still wanna celebrate more birthdays.
Ideas are rotting under the soils dug by the unscrupulous.
We buried our true identities and our mourning is pretentious.
Moreso, our joy has been expelled.
The commoners with good intentions are called riffraff.
The undereducated with concerns are labeled bellyachers.
The elites have a sense of entitlement that exceeds their competency.
The clergy have cloaks covering hands reaching out for the treasury.
Then what would you call me? A young African poet whose lines are characterized by hate speeches.
When Jesus tells us to pray in private, that’s when we fill up stadiums.
Or that “Lord! Lord!” won’t get us to heaven, we still climb the podiums.
Our inaction is disguised as faith and oblivious to the endowment of free will.
We are blind to nature’s blessings and God’s delegation of power for us to realize his earthly will.
Now, this is me! All I’ve ever accumulated is pride.
Everything I’ve accomplished is by my side.
I gave praise to me, my beauty, my knowledge, and my skills,
I sought out the praise from others, and boy, it was a thrill.
I challenge anyone who thought they were better than me.
No one stepped up, as far as my eyes could see.
For I only saw me, myself, and I.
I prospered quickly, I multiplied.
But then life fell hard on me, the kind of thing that brings you quickly to your knees.
I stood with nothing, not even pride.
I thought to myself, “How bad it was that I couldn’t convert my vast knowledge into riches.”
This black soil is cursed! I’d wait patiently for my turn.
Amidst the vastness of our resources, blossoms a narrowness of minds.
If challenges delay our goals, our success gets undermined.
Our failures don’t roll up our sleeves for more efforts but belligerence.
Our tongues have become viperous easily inciting division and violence.
We are guilty of killing the messengers.
We have silenced voices that threatened our favors and status.
We prefer fellow tribesmen and forego what statesmanship seeks.
Distrusting progress of shared thought and embracing the selfishness of cliques.
More deceit continues to deface our identity.
Take heed of the manipulation of verities.
Individualism is not selfishness; patriotism is not self-praise.
Salvation is not prosperity; electability is not authority.
Our leaders are just a reflection of a broken society, changing the mirror won’t cure their corruptibility.
We need a more poetic war against indiscipline.
At 22, they said I’m still too young to Run.
But only the young and the strong-willed can undo the wrong of our ancestors.
So, I’ll patiently wait my turn while using my poetic words to build a better Nigeria.
About The Writer: Chamberlain Dre is a final year student at Abuja University, Nigeria. He is a spoken word artist and a rapper. He specializes in writing articles, poetry, scripted plays, short stories, and prose works. Instagram @chamberlaindre_ |Twitter @ chamberlaindre4 |Email: email@example.com.
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Picture retrieved from Google.