The city never changes
its reeks clean of grotesque clouds and ashy fumes
aloof, beneath a choking sun
breathing, exhaling, spirals of soot and smoke
on charred colourd pavements
It is a well of wonders
of stampeding feet of gloating youthhs
dancing in putrid twists of freedom
a cry for recollection
for the glorious days
when oil was found, on the neck
of a state born on the edges of rivers
The city never changes
black oil flowing in desperate parches
colouring the ankles of strangers
heaving with excitement, in those places
where the sun kisses our earth in forlorn thatches
you see these skyscrapers that threaten
to kiss the sky with pouted metal lips
they bear the wonder
of a golden city
that has lost its voice to the hurricane
of mock laughter
laughter echoing through the mist of its subdued walls
The city never changes
the hustle, the bustles
the noises, the voices
the RUMUos, The Aba roads, The GRAs
the culty towns
its 23 children will stare at it
with glassy eyes, promises frozen beneath their depth
AND I, stepped my prodigal foot, on its tarred road
a lost child, finding her way back home again
to the town that will remember me
long after im forgotten..
This is an Ode
to a dear city..