The Gun, The Bullet, The Bayonet | Wasiu Taiwo Olawale

Once upon a time,
There was a country,
Between two rivers :
Called Benue and Niger,
Whose all citizens
Were shackled
By Foreign powers.
The time,
When the white minority,
Dominate the black majority.

Then, Comes, the time
To fight for Freedom.

Many men and women stood their ground,
To fight for the Freedom.

Many lost their lives,
And many sustained
In attaining the Freedom.

Everyone was overjoyed,
Their songs of victory
Flooded both Niger and Benue,
And Happiness visits all Homes.

During this time of joy,
Prominents among these
Freedom Fighters,
Started building
A Gun, which other citizens
Failed to see
Its future dangers.

They saw the Gun
As a mere chain
Of Leadership
Forming to replace
The prior painful powers.

But when the Foreigners
Went back
To their homes,
And they were left
With themselves,

THEN, the real picture
Of the Gun showed itself.

Fear firstly, fairly flowed
In people’s minds,
But it later disappeared
Since they saw
No Bullet in the Gun.

During that time,
They saw their leaders
As young scorpions,
Who have neither claw
Nor poisonous tail.

But they forgot
That as time goes,
Man also grows
Some of their parts,
That are hidden within.

The yesterday young scorpions,
Are now full fledge scorpions,
Biting and poisoning
Everyone on sight.

And this Danger
Is continual,
Just as lion
Beget cub,
Which later
Grows to be lion.

The Gun of that time
Beget nothing but Bullets.

These Bullets are their ward,
Who are gaining powers,
Based on their pedigree.

The past Gun,
They feared fairly,
Is now firing fiercely.

Few favoured people
Escape the firing
Poverty and destitution
While others only
Hold on to Hope
That the Bullets
Will soon run out.

But the Poet
Could do nothing
But laugh hysterically,
As their foolishness
Is gaining unceasing momentum.

Let’s take the two
Of that yesterday
Together with the two
Of the current today,
The result will be
Nothing but four tomorrow.

Their Gun of yesterday,
Grows a sorrowful stem,
Which is the Bullet
They are facing today,
But these people
Are myopic enough,
Not to see the coming
Lasting leaves of Bayonets,
Which will neither
Run out like Bullets,
Nor stop cutting
The throats of their Hope.



Facebook: Olasunkanmi Olawale



Click here to submit your literary works for publication



Please Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.