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Pay Attention…!

Like an alcoholic confessing his sins to a toilet bowl
I’m ready to let it all out And
Run my mouth like Mohammed Ali would run commentary for the Super bowl
And
Be rest assured that
Truth will be told
Be it in the scorching afternoon on the streets of UTANGA
Or on Obudu mountain’s evening cold

I/
Stand before you here as a thief
Ready to rob you off the prejudices and misconceptions
You hold dear to your heart/
Yes
I’m a thief
Not in need your money but all you have to pay me is ATTENTION

Pay attention. . .

I hear the voice of a man in tattered clothes
Wearing a life jacket to prevent him from drowning in his own tears
Begging and pleading, promising heaven and earth
I see a man knocking on doors in my neighborhood
Begging my parents, my siblings, aunts and uncles
I hear a man telling me his tales of how he had no shoe
How he had no good clothes and all he has been through
Bretheren
Before us stands a man promising to split the red sea like Moses did (PBUH)
Heal the sick and restore sight to the blind like Jesus (PBUH) did
Bring us from darkness to light like Muhammed (PBUH) did
Ready to sacrifice all he had like Moremi did
And protect us, like the sacred tree, guarded by Pandoria warriors

Little did we know
About the powers possesed by our fingers
That we could install and uninstall leaders like computer programs
Or with our voices, shutdown a country like an overheating PC
Or reboot if we’ve had a bad start like Usain Bolt defaulting
Little did we know that our thumb is viewed as a mineral resource
By incumbent and would be leaders
Ruling party and the opposition
Of course
Without follower-ship, the leader’s ship will be drowning
Which puts us in a perfect position to be the captains of our own destinies

Pay Attention…

So we believed the crying man and gave him our thumb
And like the Grameen model, his collateral was his trust
The man who once promised to be a leader now acts like a boss

All in a bid to remain on a sit made by our thumbs…
The question is…what brand of weed have you been smoking?
White widow or silver haze?
That has prevented you from paying the minimum wage
Which has left everyone in anger and rage. .
Look son…!
The old are dying and the the new ones are refusing to be born
If you continue like this, be rest assured that in hell you may burn

May I remind you of the time you came begging for a finger, O special one
I still wonder why we didn’t give you the middle one

Our queries are answered only by a resounding silence
Rather than help us, we are used against ourselves
The xtian against the muslim
The rich against the poor
The educated against the uneducated
The unbeliever against the disbeliever
Households against households
Regions against region

So to every breathing thing listening to me. . .
Refuse to be used as a pawn in the political chess game. . .
You sell your future and that of your kids
For every vote you sell
In your fingers lies powers
Powers to make and un make
Powers to change the world
Pay attention to the powers in your hands
No matter where and how you were born
Either in the most beautiful of cities
Or the remotest of villages
Be rest assured that one day, without compromising your integrity, you will get there
Cos, I started from the bottom, now I’m here

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Categories: Poetry
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