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Native Fly: King Of Agbor

Never knew how rich
Traditionally
A place called a land
By the Bini empire is.

Iyare… Iyare!
Emphatically
By the hallway
An elderly woman praised.

The winding horn blow
Gloriously
Calling out the mighty ‘Agwu’
Whose presence terrifies an enemy…

Iyare… Iyare!
Eze bu’ eze
An elderly woman praised
As he sits on his golden thrown.

The ruler of a town
Town with a cheerful heart
Dein they call him
Dein Keagborekuzi.

The roaring lion of Boji-boji
Youngest king crowned
Majestically
All over the world.

The youngest King ever
Whose name flows
Wonderfully to the world
In none stop never
Right from Orogodo River
Sitting on his golden throne.

South-South; on its last legs

Named by the River

Down South

Towards the River

The bitter taste of liberty

Young and sturdy tree

Grew by the River

 

But now that she is free

From white skin

And slavery,

She hijacks,

Mar and stains

Self wrecking her own black-skin

 

 

But now that she is free

From white skin

And slavery,

Where is the destination

Of the hot volcano she erupts?

Still on her homes;

 

Brothers in arm, sisters in South

Green-lands dried and withered

All for dug-wells and greed

Marred and stained

Death she set and freed

X-box she plays on another man’s life

 

Murdered by lawless-armed-brothers

Lawful brothers in arm

Battle of the rabbits and hippos

Withered are the green grasses

O, brothers and sisters in South-South

Let die the crisis.

 

 

By Onyeche Vincent Onyeka

© 2010 https://vinzpoetry.wordpress.com

 

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