Fresh-severed heads dangle
From tree branches in the town square
Blood drops congeal in the eyes
Of the noonward sun
A miasma of roasting bodies
Hangs heavy in the evening air
Hungry vultures revel in
Their cannibal concourse atop the trees
Season of omens, season of mayhems
Minor arguments boil into dagger wars
‘Unknown gunmen’ turn placid rivers
Into cesspools of rabid blood
Body-hunters hawk their wares in open markets:
Mangled members, hewed breasts,
Gouged eyes compete for the highest bidding;
In the morbid commerce of a graveyard country
Rampaging zealots maim and murder
As evidence of faith and proof of power
A parallel government by bandits
Thrives on blood levies and wanton terror
The Niger neighs like a stricken horse
The Benue lies limp with bloated bodies
From the desert fringes to the startled ocean
Nigeria reels and wriggles like a headless snake
‘Our own dear Native Land’,
Now a killing field
Its government fled many moons ago
Without a forwarding address