Broken Promises

They promised us a republic
A country to call our own
Rushed to the dictionaries and
We saw France and America
We canvassed support for ominira
That we, the people, shall rule
We glanced across the seas and

Marvelled at self-determination
Raised our hopes to the vagueness
Of this newfound self-assurance
We hailed as heroes these
Foreign-educated masquerades
Self-appointed masters who
In collusion with mindless

Killer drones in starched Khakis
Conspired to steal our thunder
Oppressors and plunderers
Skilful architects of an era
Of internalised colonialism
Ours, a stop-start nation,
An emere of a country

Struggling against itself
Forever dying and yet
Baying for rebirth, but
The reincarnation persists
As they recycle the monsters
Kidnappers of our essence
They hold us, still, to ransom

They demand our servitude
Loyal sycophancy only, or else face
The wrath of guns perpetually
Pointed at our hungry temples
Ah! Let me die o jare, at least
My demise is one promise
Incapable of breakage


- Copyright (c) Olumide Omoyele 2009