ALL IS THE GREEN

PROMISE ITA OKPOHOUDEME

Tuesday 27 January 2026

Oh my green flag, your

Hit track is playing everywhere

In your kitchen, your rooms

Your market square, your councils

Your uniforms, your school bags

Your chalkboards, your crafts

Your pulpits, your "congratulations", etc

Where's corruption not a song?

Your stool is a rock!

Upon which your hit track is playing,

Exploitation is a standing pole, and self,

Among the stitches in green flag,

Wailing to the sky for heavenly rain,

Maybe, it could be washed clean again.

Your necromantic parlours,

Are making daily graves,

That they may be a funeral in every square,

At dawn, they rock Aso rock in white wear (s).

Heavy cloud gathers everyday,

That it may rain red in every eyes,

As elephant grasses grow in every hearts,

That it may floods blood just a day.

Oh green flag waving to and fro,

Your grasses curse your way,

And they've stopped to pray,

Because you've refused to lie,

Just for all a merciful cry.

Oh, Heaven have closed its gate,

Dogs have taken the eagle's wings,

They can't fly, they won't lay off,

What places elephants on your stool?