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AN OLD WORD FOR YESTERDAY

Nights we illuminated The designated scars on our wrinkled skin With the luminous fire kindled By the torn pages of scripts of our envisaged dreams.



Nights we illuminated
The designated scars on our wrinkled skin
With the luminous fire kindled
By the torn pages of scripts of our envisaged dreams.
Under the burning gaze of the sun, daily
We slunk along the gory path of our past
To replay the grievous sounds of gongs and drums
Slashing through the booms of maniac guns
That deafened ears against the sound of new laughter
And muted the wailing, cries, and pleads
Of seers who last night, stoned and cheated death once
With a jackpot hit in a seamy game of cards.
We rode beyond the restless heart of the world
That bore scads of putrefy memories of men we once were
Like dust blown into the cold grasp of harmattan
By the pathetic wind who begot no honor
But have we?
Our slangs and chants were buried in shattered pieces
In our battered tongues and silenced
By the grieves that enslaved our voices.
If tears were to be written words on our raddled faces
Rolling down watery alphabets of our regrets
Would we have someone to tell the old tale?
Our nights are haunted by the silence from mounted graves
While our days are tormented by the
Chirps of birds and fists of pestles on cracked mortars
Turned into the clash of machetes and booms
Of molesting guns. Of how do we?
That we died a death before our death in the past?
That we're drained of tears and emptied of emotions?
That our plights are stained with the sweat of valour?
That we withheld the clamouring voices
For the old word for yesterday?

Written by: Adedeji Raphael

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Pawners Paper: AN OLD WORD FOR YESTERDAY
AN OLD WORD FOR YESTERDAY
Nights we illuminated The designated scars on our wrinkled skin With the luminous fire kindled By the torn pages of scripts of our envisaged dreams.
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