I am accustomed to sing of love

Among the pristine marigolds of dawn,

Like some poet would serenade beauty

Cushioned by the surf caress of women.

Between the emerald boulevard of obeche,

I am set in a burden to sing

Of the pastoral poetry of my kindred

Slaving hungry in the savannah of foods.

I am set in a burden to sing

Darkness overriding our homes,

Like the howl of pipelines beneath our

Earth dense with barrels of crude excess;

I am set in a burden to sing

The behemoth belch of fumes

Cramming the nostrils of Escravos,

Choking the lungs of Nun and Forcados;

I am set in a burden to sing

The dirge of barren fields and barns,

The murmur of slick-smeared mangroves,

The sour breath of fish steaming the shore.

I am set in a burden to sing

Hacked dugout canoes drifting

On the salted spine of scorched creeks,

And bones of frogs fossilised for future;

I am set in a burden to sing

The limping cock, the mangy dog,

The one-eyed goat, the wounded pig;

All the graffiti of sickness and sadness;

I am set in a burden to sing

Boys and girls in sore scramble

For rusted pipes spewing yellowed

Water like gonorrhoea-pained penis;

I am set in a burden to sing

How mothers torment their brow

At the slightest warble of wings above,

Like Heaven's bread will plop in their laps;

I am set in a burden to sing

The haste of fathers breeding waifs;

Their wait like Simeon's pregnant

Like their dissolution of time in alcohol;

I am set in a burden to sing

Gaping, black effigies of houses

Cuddled by the careless arms of fire

Of the froth-clouded, hot-headed ruler;

I am set in a burden to sing

Ugly swell of bodies strewn about,

Limbs and arms mashed in the mud

By the toothed tread of military tanks;