POETRY
PEACE Puppeteers calmly manipulate strings from rooftops Cajoling their stooges into orchestrated macabre dances To entertain us with the sight Of decapitated bodies in the North In this cacophonous theatre of death Where brothers take up arms against defenceless brothers Hacking them down like logs in the forest. Jaw-dropping clandestine commando operations Leave in their wake the wanton destruction of life In the desolate villages of the middle belt Torn asunder by once-docile cattlemen Mutated to machine-gun totting merceneries Sacking whole settlements and fertilising farmlands With the blood of farmers Where peace in vain is sought What unity is there in death? The old sun watches as endless rivers of blood Oiled by a pervading dearth of love Flow into the crevices of our national wall Soaking the very fabric of our nationhood. There are no wise men in this fool's paradise.