What happens
          When heartless mission 
          meets harmless task?
          Could the idyllic
          of the innocuous
          render nurgatory
          the bulldozing fangs
          of the viscious?
          When million eggs
          knock their heads 
          against the rock
          they varnish
          like trapped airs
          released into the atmosphere
          they varnish
          But of what gain
          is the might of a destroyer
          when he quenches his thirst
          on efforts of laborious sweats?
          But what shall we do?
          to period this pharaoh
          who celebrates seasons of madness
          who puts the chess-board before us
          and coaxes us to play
          yet he must not be checkmated
          lest we pay the price
          the price - get awashed 
          in bloodbath?
          Yet we gaze, gaze, gaze...
          as if there lies our salavation
          Lor he kills our mothers
          their breasts he bayonets
          and uses the milk therein
          to nurse his dogs
          He doctors our children
          with kwarshiokored bellies
          and those who speak for us
          their breaths he seizes
          the choice of men he nibs
          and our apostles of hope 
          he slaugthers      
      
          But sir
          what shall become of you
          when the stage is no more yours
          how shall your fruits 
          read your glories
          of blood-tainted history
          and there at your demise
          before the greatest Judge
          shall your handiworks
          bear testimonies to your might
          for the world shall be there
          there before you
          even those sycophants
          who blindfold you
          with running waves of illusion
          just to keep their pot bellies
          and all shall prepare 
          your crucifixion
          in the rite of passage...

*****
     
This poem is dedicated to all African Leaders