(To Kenule Beeson Saro Wiwa in memoriam, part of an anthology)
So stuffy and fluffy is my flute
Shall I borrow now a poet’s lute?
To help me spin this yarns on stage
…this yarns of rage?
Of one wronged heart
Of a miscarriage of justice
Of dogs eating dogs
Of such callous mediocrity!
So stuffy and fluffy is my flute
Shall I borrow now a poet’s lute?
To help me spin this yarns on stage
…this yarns of rage?
Of a man betrayed by
A tribe of Judas
’cause he never tired
To speak the ills;
Of a man who all his life
Gave voice to the dictum
‘Whatever persecution a man may face TRUTH will out!’
So stuffy and fluffy is my flute
Shall I borrow now a poet’s lute?
To help me spin this yarns on stage
…this yarns of rage?
Of a tragedy of the oppressed
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Of the bestiality in man
Of the crude rape of innocence!
So stuffy and fluffy is my flute
Shall I borrow now a poet’s lute?
To help me spin this yarns on stage
…this yarns of rage?
Of a gory sad tale
Of a rooted sorrow
Of a man shanghaied to
A fortress of torture;
To suffer a rainbow of abuse
And then burn to ashes;
I tell you of a man
Who has ceased to be forever more!
So stuffy and fluffy is my flute
Shall I borrow now a poet’s lute?
To help me spin this yarns on stage
…this yarns of rage?
Of a man caused
To hurry off this life;
At zero-zero hours
Without even the benefit of
His swansong!
But nay! Some dreams come true
Even when callously truncated
The same goes for a glorious revolution
Only if you don’t mind the
Death of your Age!
So stuffy and fluffy is my flute
Shall I borrow now a poet’s lute?
To help me spin this yarns on stage
…this yarns of rage?
Of a man who laid down his life
’cause he wanted no one
To SHELL their dream
Even after knowing that the stage was
Obviously an arrangee;
He yelled ‘Aluta Continua!’
Believing that Que sera sera
So stuffy and fluffy is my flute
Shall I borrow now a poet’s lute?
To help me spin this yarns on stage
…this yarns of rage?
Of a people whose final abode
Shall be the nethermost region
Then will they know that only
God is Nemesis
And at the crack of dawn
There will be no more victor nor vanquish
Then all shall indeed receive Poetic Justice
Nay! I’m yet at my tethers end
Can my heart yet amend?
Indeed our hearts bleed
With eyes tears are shed
But where wailing faces be
Happiness shall never again be!
Well now my Saro
As you listen to this
Songs of sorrow for Saro
Here’s saying cheerio!