Rampage Song
This region has scars of fine laughter
Its creator; a subtle imbecile
Its children; ridiculously poor
Cassava – the rich home grown diet
We eat only at other’s exit
When we die bodies feed vultures
Weeping inks our nature
The delta; a devil’s perfect exile
Room for plenty at extinction
Pathway to dreamless castles
If God be from here,
He is an outcaste
If his angels eat from here
He is the gangster we seek
Our delta; shelter’s mirage
Let’s dream of home coming
Of poultry, no more cemetery
Of poetry for weeping kindness
Of sound oratory of sad songs gone
This delta, this Niger, hope you find sanity
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