The Sky is Falling

The sky is falling
But it’s upside down
And it’s raining and it’s pouring
And it’s softening the ground

So ashes can be spread
And we can bury our dead
And we can wake to sleepless nights
Cold sweats in our bed

Memories seasoned with regret
Inside already tormented heads
Heaven is below
It is where they go
And hell is in a realm
Between the ceiling and the floor

The sky is falling
And hell resides above
So the fire and the brimstone
Fall down to earth on us

 

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The debris flutters down like snow
Making eyes water and hearts ache
Its toxic and its weightless
Yet heavy enough to make hearts break

Planes drop mindlessly out of the sky
Wasting 100s of our lives
Leaving behind orphans and widows
Death comes to part husbands and wives

Bombs detonate in churches near mosques
Making a mockery of our religions
Of our safety precautions, of us
Leaving in its wake another fresh & rotting corpse

The roads are soaked with blood
From this car crash and that fight
The streetlights don’t work
Either way, there’s no light

And distrust is so heavily woven into the tapestry
That we know things are never quite as simple as they seem
How does one even have clarity of vision when darkness sets the precedent?
For the environment, for the living conditions, even for the government

Is it the potholes?
Is it the cutting corners?
Is it corruption?
Is it lack of expertise?
Or is it just our quota for the deceased?

Whatever it is
Left behind
It’s getting harder and harder to breathe.
And even harder to sleep
The loss of the lost
Brings us all to our knees.

Father, Father, Father help us.
Turn our nation right side up,
So many things seem so senseless,
So can You please make it stop?

If the sky was the right side up
Blessings would be showering down
I cannot help but think we’ve destroyed the atmosphere
And turned things the wrong way around

When there is so much depravity, top down
How does one avoid gravity? It must come down.

The sky is falling
And it doesn’t matter if you cry
The residue from hell’s sewers
Will rise up to infect our lives

We are all sick
Inhaling these impurities
Cruelty has tipped the scales
No one has immunity

We exhale broken hopes
We breathe in dashed dreams
The future is a mirage
That is swept up in the evening breeze

The sky is falling down
It’s falling down on us
Are you willing to hold it up?
If so, at what opportunity cost?

Father, Father, Father help us.
Turn our nation right side up,
So many things seem so senseless,
So can you please make it stop?

ImagePhoto Credit: http://blogs.phoenixnewtimes.com/jackalope/2010/08/where_to_catch_tonights_persei.php

The *Giant @ 50!

There once lived a man who never really lived until he was set free. Before he was set free his life was not his own. He was enslaved, beaten, broken, and subdued physically and mentally, but one day.. One day.. His oppressors left and he was set free.

Like an infant taking his first steps he tested out a path all his own. The year was 1960, the date was October 1, and it was his independence.

This man comprised of many life forces. Many individuals and opinions that made him who he was. For he was not a man in the literal sense, but more of a nation fortified by like-minds and hopeful hearts. As the years passed he forged his path, yet his potential was so big that it blinded his perspective. Resources so abundant that he abused their returns. His heart was willing, but his flesh was weak, and as thus he subdued himself to the songs of sirens singing of money that sought to steal his soul. And so he sold it, over and over again he sold it.

Sold it so some could celebrate while most were left to suffer. He stopped listening to his collective conscience and began to succumb to his own greed. He forced out the voices of those who couldn’t afford a seat @ the table, and thus the gap widened and the nation as a whole was enslaved again – this time the victim and the victor were one and the same.

The victor had the keys of life – yet he held them tight as he hoarded the hope of the masses – cashing them in, until he possessed all he could plunder, and then he would pass keys on to the next head – all of whom gradually became guilty of the same crime. And so 50 years later all he has left to show is what he had 50 years ago whence he took his 1st faltering steps.

Talents buried in the sand, gathering dust and remaining underappreciated by those who could leverage these abilities for the gain of all.

But sleep can only last for the night, and one day even the slumbering giant must awaken. The dream has become a nightmare, and in this reality the strength of the collective is rising up against that of the head. A consensus is being reached that says – the man must compete, the man must contribute, and the man must confess.

Confess that this existence is not sustainable. Confess that he is no longer man alone, for his life forces are scattered across the continents. Dotted on every continent, and they weave together a web so strong that the man must heed their message. He is and will remain constrained, and shall not be set free until he owns up for his actions, takes charge of his resources, and commands the respect of the collective by heeding the voice of his own conscience that has become hardened and desensitized to the cries of the collective.

Once upon a time hopeful hearts beat from within, and to this day they still do. Sometimes it is ever so faint, but if you concentrate you can hear the hope and if you close your eyes you can see the future. Those hopeful hearts – waiting, willing, and wondering when the time will come when they will power up this life force again with the synchroinzed beating that in collaboration  will bring light, strength, and ultimately success in a land free from the constraints of corruption.

Wetin man pikin go do? Dig up our talents and add our voices to that of the collective of course! Our objectives are the same, our pride is palpable, our success is eminent. It’s all up to us. And as always – God dey!

Happy birthday! Here’s to tomorrow.