The Writing Pictures

Honour suffices the noble.
That lends to Bubu
At this incredible hour
A bowl of virtue.
Truth cuddling the sword
Of conscience
defies the might
And b***y of the deaf tyrant
we shall all be condemned
To waiting.

Help us tell the old masquerade
To do the dance gently
For time swings going and coming
And the rainy season
Do not honour
An old elephant that
Shamelessly chooses the muds
As its dance stage
It is only a revelry to oblivion.

Who will teach Bubu
That the day is renting to sleep
It is time to tarry home
Like Nelson our friend.
When the old desire to
Carry our b***y on his head
What then will a child wish for!
What more does the old desire
Than suck the breast of his child.
Will it be the young
To teach today's old men
Lessons in honour.

The old man who comes
To the house of divinity
With a live fish on his head
Seeks what again
in the midst of men ?
No knife will sharpen its own butt
And no sane sage
will seek his own coronation
Let us tell the old man
who chooses to pursue
A pig to a refuse
That he drags not only
His name and honour.

Bubu has hired another thug
The tyrant has a python pet
Let us admonish the old man
In his costly obsession
That threats will never deter
The berth of an imminent dawn
And the noise of the shoddy pig
Will die within its belly .
The old elephant is not a match
For a pride of young lions.

Let us render to the old man gently
That flares are everywhere
He contends not only with many
In the race to the villa
but also with the Okanran.
Let us bring all the contenders
And read them their dossiers
It will be the turn of the old man
The old man from your village
It will be said..
"Take away his white clothes,
Give him these red rags"
Didn't we tell the old man
That good old honour
Is the pathway of the wise.

Let us lead Bubu back to Daura
Quietly as we once did a brute
From zombie's constituency
Who stormed into our China shop .
Let us respect the old man
And es**rt him to Gereje
Without ruffling his hairy ears
We will make a feast for our elder
To honour our own Mandela
In the company of old wise men
If a good name will suffice the elder
We will kill a she-goat and adorn our tables
Feasting while forgetting our travails
Into the night
Till the elder goes winkling in his sleep.
Copyright
Dr Akinlade Babafemi
October 2017