What becomes of a failed state?
Does its might like Rome become a museum
admired for the glory of its past?
Or does it die of vice in the hands of scoundrels
who limits Liberty to increase their share
of the pie that they steal from the wretched?
Does its stink of Injustice leave you
pondering why our sovereign is worse than any other?
Or is the triumphs of reason beyond us –
believing ourselves ineffectual, benumbed
to influence the outcome, we desire for our children?
A failed state is only the beginning of the reckoning;
a cataclysm – is what happens afterward
Oh, nevermind where you’re from – North, East, West, or South.
You and I are the ruins.
Copyright © Ugo Nkwoala | Spilledwoords.org | 2020
Lad! Remember that no man ought to forgeta child’s tender youth is like tempering of waxapt to receive form – discipline before affectionmix threats with a fair look, manner with wit. A potter fashions his lay when it’s softa sparrow taught to come when younghot iron by a hammer’s stroke begets formand keeps it forever […]
4 It was the stuff of a satire, were it not painfully true. Nnenne sat silently on a black-spotted Ankara patterned sofa surrounded by chattering friends and coworkers. She and a handful of friends at Lolo’s urging – her childhood friend and workmate, had gathered at her residence to celebrate a hard-fought promotion greeted with […]
© Ugo Nkwoala |Spilledwoords.org | 2020