Death at the toll gate

By Nasiru Oseni

Death tolls at the toll gate

Of stolen lucre

Blood flows beneath the bridge

Of hidden corpses of grave denials washed ashore

Sit down, wave the colonial flag

In this place where

We have come to die 

in search of life

The truth can no longer be found

Only a camcorder

Of coded lies

And a searchlight into

Things that cannot be seen

After the departure of  the SCAVENGERS

Still, the big question lies 

in its grave of silence

The ashes of the charred remains of the first inquirer all littered in the air of daily denials

reminds of the truth

Some questions, once interred, may never be answered

So, headaches of tired thoughts roam angry streets of aborted dreams in mainland

Hands speak and cantankerous mouths become silent 

in fresh days of street murders,

Arson and pillage 

This is what we have become