Kayode Makinde

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Kayode Makinde
Saturday 4 March 2023

Backhand, Sixth Sense and This Dilemma


The hand of bitter fact holds

Or so it seems truth

That corruption flourishing

Like the air we breathe feast

on the strengthless vitality

Of all we cling dear to our bosom

Now pretty tainted and harassed.

 

Immoral slurs in home fronts.

The breeding on rusted streets

Certain fellows of soiled wits.

 

Traffic crosses.

Air conditioned offices.

Market stalls.

Examination halls.

 

Road blocks

Where traffic jam rocks

For men abuse position,

Dark minds with black fashion

Crave for fifty boxes

Like mice scurry for stale cheese.

 

You can see all these

Equal traditional motifs 

That disdesign dreams

Philosophies and beliefs

To a future that should brightly beam.

 

Adorn the spectacle

Of the sixth sense

See unclouded

In the mind eyes

The promise land

Beyond the bulwark

Of the killing now.

 

When in us

The revelation unfolds,

Filthy murky gown

Of a mentality looking down

Can then be strangled.

Let awkward belts be firm.

For intrepid spirits bud already

Daring to beat forward a new path

Straight and unbent

Are you ready?

 



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