Niyi Osundare
Easter came, Easter went
The Plague never left as the Emperor commanded
Tombs still brimmed with bodies. The only thing
That rose was the cacophony of wailing voices
And the Emperor woke up one day with a divine prescription:
“Bleaches, insecticides, germicides, and suchlike poisons
Ingested, injected, and rubbed all over the body
Will vanquish this virus and bring back our darling economy”
A genius so stable, so brave, proclaimed this panacea
To the deference of nodding experts
And toadying state officials. A frightened world
Saw neither method nor meaning in this imperial madness
But the ‘method’, as always, is personal and ruthless:
The forthcoming polls and the plague of power
So, open up the towns and troop to the streets
Better to die at work than to live at home!
The fatalities assault our ears in their numbing thousands
But the Emperor never knows how to mourn and mend:
‘It’s damnable weakness to sicken and then to die
Or protect yourself from the fury of the plague’
Two lethal afflictions besiege the world
One named Corona, from the Tribe of COVID
The other is a Grand Old Plague (GOP) from the gilded palace
Behold how we perish from their common scourge
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