From a good friend with a brilliant mind. See it as a sort of rejoinder to my earlier poem, FUSION. Much respect Dante!

Naija House of Dreams


We are NOW. Racially, we are colourless.
We are the fleshed prayers of the sixties, though our jeans
Are hand-washed, our ruffled hairs, cheaply styled
And our infatuation for bright colour placards fixated.
We are the troves of warm interlocked voices,
Swarming the stomachs of national alleys
Searching for the last frontiers of human justice.

Like torn chapters, stolen from ancient manuscripts,
We are the swiftly classified futures,
Whispered in hush voices behind blinded closed doors-
Scared to be hugged, too delicate to be freed-
So we roam the arid corridors of all nations,
We, the detonating remnants of the sons of Facebook,
Tweeting our bloodlines beyond iron grips of legal incantations.

As policies tightens and batons loosens,
As smoking canisters dances and wild orders prances,
We plug our tried minds together and steadfastly sway slowly-
From the musical gun-notes YouTube from the streets of the Arab spring

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