PoetrySatire

A War With The gods

Our ancestors are fast and far asleep.
Their snores echoe through the heavens
As they can’t hear the hubbub of the world they guard.

The human world has become the jungle,
Where rodents became wild.
We’re less afraid of rats above lions.

Our world has been doomed
Our flesh is served in feast
By the beast that have us killed.

The Yewa river is no more drinkable
For the maternal.
In our world,
Thunders impersonate the rainbows.

The sages no longer foresee
Like Orunmila
All they see now is the noun
Placed on the loins of a sultry lass.

Èṣù crossed our paths
So many believed
As he announced the dethronement of Olódùmarè
This is a taboo on us,
The world is left with no gratitude
As we are all left in failing aptitudes.

Our pains are worn like togs of war
Darkness upsurge the light of Obatala
We need sticks to fight this war.
The gods have failed and
Who said they’re not to be blamed?
We at war with the gods.
But our heart and the earth
Seeks the peace of yesterday.
We need to straddle this hurdle.

Aṣẹ̀dá!
Olódùmarè!
Olúwa!
We can upon your mightiness!
Solidify our souls like the rock of ages,
Make our flowers blossoms again
Like the one in the hereafter.
Bless our nights with the prayers of yesterday
And glorify our days with the rays of the rising sun.

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