The olden days, The golden days
Seem like eons ago
When men were men, Not bickering like women
How the mighty have fallen
O my dear Nigeria, My fatherland
The labor of our heroes past
How unfortunate, Going down the drain
Like a body dismembered bit by bit
Whisper not to Zik and Awo
Of the unfortunate state we are
For they would roll in their graves
In spite of their hardwork
Whisper not to Tafa and Ahmadu
Of the unfortunate state we are
For their lives were cut short
In the name of “unity”
They toiled to see us in warm embrace
Different disciplines
Different class of degree
Different hierarchy of degree
From Bachelors and above
My generation, well educated
Within the bosom of mother Nigeria
And far beyond
To the ends of the earth
My generation, well educated
In various disciplines, At various hierarchy
My generation, the most educated
Yet, uneducated
My generation has been set to fail
By the greed of our grandfathers
Divide and rule they say
Kudos! They succeeded
My generation is divided
Divided to the core
Divided by ethnicity
Divided by religion
Nwoke despises Okunrin
Okunrin is disgusted of mutum
Mutum sees Nwoke as an enemy
While our grandfather sit and watch
Technology brings forth development
Or so they say
O mother Nigeria
Technology intensified the divide amongst my generation
Drums of war beaten
By my generation
From each corner of mother Nigeria
Drums gifted by our grandfathers
Drums we know nothing about
Drums whose tune speak of hate
Drums whose dance should not be taught
Drums whose dance should be dreaded
Drums whose tune our grandfathers had danced to
A dance which left them all fatigued and at a loss
Drums our fathers were too young to play
But felt the wrath of its tune gravely
Why has our grandfather gifted us this drum
If not to keep us at each other’s throat
While they share the bounty of the land
We beat a drum we know nothing about
When the drums of war are beaten
The tunes resonates the dance
My generation will be the lead dancers
Our fathers who lack its techniques at command
Our grandfathers in safety of their huts
Drinking wine and being merry
They being old is reason for not dancing
Least they break a hip
My generation will dance to a dreaded tune
A dance that will leave many fatigued
While many more will fall on the dance floor
With our grandfathers in safety of their huts
My generation, the most educated
Yet, uneducated
Would we have to feel the sting of the dance
Before we think?
What says of our education, If we cannot learn
From the horrors our grandfathers witnessed on the dance floor
We should come together as one
To fight our evil grandfathers
For once, Let us craft our drums
Play tunes written by us
Play tunes written for us
Let us be masters of our own fate
© Sadio
01182018
#Sadio'sPoem #Nigeria #Peace #NigeriaUnited #YouthStandUp #YouthsUnite
