Joel Audu
Above they fly soaring on Iroko
There! Offspring’s nestle, high away
From carcasses you devour
To grow into eagles your kins want
But your ugly face, kinds inherit
Rots of the dead they perch and peck
On lifeless till bones remain
Gliding on this stench
Soon the Palm tree their lodge
A strange venture for vultures
Scavenging for wine
Scarcity for tapsters
Gory sight scares to a pulp!
When the wine is dry
Next you scavenge your meat
When from above you fall
The small and tiny
Doth hastens your rot
Imagine, your drink
You deregulate to maximum
Taper’s you regulate to minimum least
You drink in-between dishes
We sip only before sleep
Just not to worry.