Oh somebody, somebody come rescue me
From these ocean of praises,
For I never knew they will overdose me,
Overdose and overdose me with praises
After my tongue can no longer lick…
Even who wanted me dead before now
Are singing eulogies cracking my casket,
Somebody save my ears from these eulogies
Eulogies meant for the marines…
But I am not surprised all this while
As it is the average elitist Nigerian style,
Celebrating their heroes
Only when they are gone
Sycophants gather to shoot honours gun…
Saints are shooting
Evil geniuses are hooting
Even as demons are dancing
Cladded in a cacophony of praises.
Did they and do they really like me?
What a people pouring billions on the dead
Than spend a dime to save a starving head!
I can now capture vividly why Mudiaga chooses
To sing some heroes still walking with shoes
For all their goodness to humanity,
Though I wasn’t a recipient of his eulogies
That had earned him a tag of “praise singer”
From a sycophantic bunch of “dead praisers.”
Better a praise singer of the living good
Than a multitude “praisers” of my speechless wood.
Yet, I know my people and my people know me
For in spirit we shall keep on the struggle
In living pens and voices I will continuously rumble.
I Gani, Senior Advocate of the Masses has spoken
In the voice of this pen, healing hearts broken…
(Written 08/09/09 and published by Nigerian Compass and Independent newspapers September 14, 2009 )