FRANCIS OTOLE

 

Anger Of The Sun

 

Before they came

We bear our name

Godiya, Ifunanya

Bola and Ochanya

 

We lived in hut

And none was hurt

There was no formal law

And there was no war

 

The alekwu deity and gods

Were there to fight our odds

Our crowned chiefs

Were not thieves

 

There was no church

But God was in touch

There was no salvation

And there was no starvation

 

There was no mosque

And there was no MUST

There was no righteous

And there was none riotous

There was no worship

And there was no gossip

There was no born-again

And there was none born in pain

 

There was no school

But there was cool

Elders were respected

As community expected

 

After they came

We changed our name

Moses, Judah

Medina and Jeddah

 

We made their God supreme

And began to go extreme

We began to see errors

That made us terrors

 

Our flawless cultures

Was cast to the vultures

Their gods, we adopted

Ours we aborted

 

Our royal chiefs

Became moral thieves

They left palaces for suites

They left agbada for suits

 

They gave us operation

That led to separation

After we began to read

We became possessed by greed

 

They gave us piece

That stole our peace

They sold us gun

That killed our fun

 

Our virtuous girls

Began to lose their pearls

Their skin, dark and rich

They began to bleach

 

They began to wear mini-skirts

And barely clad see-through shirts

They wear the evil combinations

That left nothing to imaginations

 

We began to lose our heir

As our boys began to fry their hair

They sag their pants

In way that makes the gods rants

 

We were more than one community

And there was peace and unity

There was no majority

And there was no minority

 

Now the gods have gone far beyond

Away from their mortal bond

To frown at both daughter and son

From the burning anger of the sun

 

Still I Rise

 

Thrown overboard into the Atlantic

Meal for the aquatic

A buoy; still, I rise.

 

Ripped from solace

Cast into furnace

A gold; still, I rise.

 

Stripped of ego

To hide like gecko

A star; still, I rise.

 

Flushed down history

To wallow in misery

A diamond; still, I rise.

 

Grinded to dust

Left to rust

A pyramid; still, I rise.

 

Thrown into flame

To be consumed by shame

A phoenix; still, I rise.

 

Cut to pieces

Never to find where peace is

A hydra; still, I rise.

 

Born of resilience

Nurtured by pestilence

An African; still, I rise.

 

Come Lets End All Wars

 

Come let end all wars

With tools of universal laws

Let’s create a one-world region

With the world-peace religion

Humanity is distinct

Why make extinct?

 

Come let’s terminate all weapons

That break humanity colorful ribbons

Let’s destroy the nuclear bombs

That destroys mother-earth’s wombs

War is the beast

That denies humanity her feast

 

Come let the world unite

Let the flame of love ignite

Let’s come together in worship

Let’s destroy the warship

Earth should be a region

Of love-supreme religion

 

Come let’s bring down the fences

Of all our differences

Let’s free all pariahs

By breaking all barriers

Being Jewish, Irish, English

Is nothing but a rifting gibberish

 

Come mothers

Break the bars of borders

Come father

Take humanity farther

Come brother

Make the world broader

Come sisters

Take away the sinister

Let’s unite as family

To make the world a place to live happily.

 

 

FRANCIS OTOLE

 

FRANCIS OTOLE is a Nigerian born poet and academician. A member of the Association of Nigerian Authors (ANA) and many other literary groups. He is an award-winning poet from the local and international scenes. Has been featured in magazines, journals and anthologies; locally and internationally. He is a graduate of the prestigious Benue State University and a student of life. His hobby is reading and writing. He is married with two children.