Our Tales

From many seasons of carnage
We have grown to be like a clan of savage

Why do we always go on rampage
To slaughter one another and ravage?

Every cock-crow at dawn
Horror wakes us and again strikes us down

We cannot go to sleep without fears and cries
At night when the whole clan crumbles and lies

Because we roast our own folks to ashes
Mother Nature whips us with painful lashes

Bakasi Boys…Boko Haram! Please…you must go to rest
Lay down your arms like the OPC in the West

No more pastoral and imamate clashes
Let’s guard ourselves from political rashes

But why do we always go on rampage
To slaughter ourselves and ravage?

Fight over oil, land or some sacred cake
Seized by some modicum scrooge to rake?

We have heads but cannot think
Water we possess but cannot drink

Enough food but still rage on with hunger
No wonder we always let loose with anger

We have shelter but no place to hide
While we run helter-skelter when we take side

Storming with vengeance like maddening flood
Here lie our body in boiling pools of blood

Ah! We have life…we cannot live
But when shall all these strives finally take leave?

Our home is burning…Oh where do we go?
Everywhere is already set aglow

From every of the zones
Across the plains echoes the clinging of our bones

Endless strives…what did we gain?
Save mourning, cries of woes and pain

Shall we not end these seasons of carnage?
And cease to be like a clan of savage?

Come together to clear our ravages
And move to undone the damages

Call on God to send down His Merciful Aids
And save us from untold wanton and AIDS

God Please! Send down your soothing rain!
To come cool and wash away our burning pain

Calm our anger and rages
And make us again like old sages

Give us profitable life
Let us live like true brothers…free us from strife

Give us beautiful places here to hide
And let our space be wide

Let all stakeholders sow love and not tarry
Upon greed and hatred that we now carry

Like a phoenix rebuild our nation
And let each clan harvest its ration

No more rampages
No more slaughter and ravages

Let us end these seasons of carnage
And cease to be like a clan of savage

What legends shall be left for the unborn
When we go yonder and leave the stage to burn?

What chants will roll on their tongues
When they come to behold our wrongs?

Brothers! If we end not these seasons of carnage
And cease not to be like a clan of savage

Our tales shall be like that “Ballad of Rage”
Told from the first to the very last historical page.

Adeola Goloba

About Ijagun Poetry Journal

Ijagun Poetry Journal is a quarterly journal that provides a platform from which we can tell our own stories in the authenticity of their multiplicity through the poetic medium. We don’t want to hear these stories from our master “griots” alone; we want to hear from those mastering their art, too. Hence, we aim at publishing new and emerging poets. We also welcome the works of established poets in order to encourage the poetic genius of those mastering poetic art. We prize original works that conform to, break or reinvent conventions. Again, we accept reviews and critical essays on poetry. We also accept powerful art works and photographs that make us appreciate the "poetry" in everything.
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