Religious In Destruction Poem by Ikechukwu Ogbuike

To be brothers is well worth its weight in pounds,
Especially in Africa and all its horns!
But when this dream of our fathers is no more worth being on,
We may well have to cut this cord and run.
It is not imprudence to turn a back on impudence
For every coexistence must be mutual otherwise the goals lose their congruence.
See, tribe
Is another euphemism for bribe
And religion
The farthest place to get to without getting to the destination
There is a trumpet of waste now blown all too easily in the back of that yard
And the gods we pray to have all taken a distant seat where it is difficult for either them or us to be heard
For we do not make music any more that is of good lyrics
The only thing in abundance here is this imported techno, all funk but not much spit

To be a nation,
Is to stand on one notion;
To live and to let live,
Like the moon and the sun revolving around one orbit.
To be a brother,
Is to offer a glad shoulder;
Not the dyslexics of economics which levels all humanity to mere statistics.
It is evolutional to continue to think independence.
It is revolutional worlds that finds interdependence.
This well paved concrete tarmac is sprouting a strange wilderness
Today a death, tomorrow another avoidable mess
Perhaps all humanity should be eager to be martyrs
Murdering innocent people has made this trail an object for satire
So the children say strike out that portion of our history in the bible
If it will put a lid on the lips of those who shed blood in order to giggle

All life is sacred
And ours is most required
When a salt has lost its saltiness, the only thing that remains is to chuck it over
When a shelter is no more useful, it is not extraordinary to want to break that cover
Variety as we have found will always be the spice of life
Continuous adaptation and evolving is how what is created survive.
We are also of religion
But guess what, we don’t take up the gun
For the gun is a tactic of politicians
They are never satisfied unless it is to handover a culture that is antediluvian
What is ridiculous, remains ridiculous
Religious idiosyncrasies cannot transform it to anything else but hocus pocus

Everyone eventually strikes out on their own
For at adulthood we must have all grown
Let us run differently in search of that destiny
This dream of liberation was not so another would be held at someone’s mercy
Let us run like the deer but not in fear
Hoping when we are at the destination we don’t discover we have lost what we should have held dear