The Real Zombies
They’re the trousers that grovel
at the feet of Bubu just to feed
their poor infested rotund belly
and will see the truth walk up to
them only to walk away from it.
They’re the skirts that slice open
their thighs for honourables’ safe
passage just to eat a slice of the
National Cake forgetting they’re
eating their future with no left overs.
They’re the mouths behind the fence
that only allow their sputum scale it
while they stood rooted on a spot
rather than show Bubu’s eye the log of
wood therein. We’re in it together.
They’re the fingerlings that plunge
very early into the deep without
second thought as to the depth
only for them to be drowning before
realising they’ve lost the elders’ wits.
They’re the robbers of souls with
a coated tongue of glad tidings
from he that sitted on the earth’s crust
and when karma knocks their door,
they gave up the ghost while alive.
Bard Tosin Morakinyo