Niyi Osundare
Whoever writes your history
Controls your story
Whoever sings your song is the one
Whose voice the world remembers
Once upon not too long a time
Said a hungry man to his clever neighbour:
Consume all there is in my brimming barn
So that I may go to bed with a bulging belly
What kind of world is this we are in:
The Master stubs his toe
His servant reels from the consequent pain
The shoe dictates the size of the foot
A world upside down
Like the bat of night
The moon up the sky
Is morose with murky musing
The river wonders what to do
With its surfeit of water
The desert is way too far
To hear its song of excess
Tyranny hardly ever knocks
Before its iron entry
The Emperor eyes the world
From the wrong corner of Conscience
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