Patriotism is supporting your country all the time, and your government when it deserves it. Mark Twain.
...But What Happens When Your Country Doesn't Deserve It🗣You Speak Up!
On This dark continent I found myself where dark begats dark,so every night was a blackout until I saw white movies and watched nights become day. Our black is just without blemish.
Then I came of age, they told me if I go to school I'll be a goldsmith but if I remained at home I would end up a blacksmith. So I was shown my dormitory and classroom. The dormitory were of talents waiting to be harnessed while the classroom has bitten the dust, bitten the dust by serpents who spitefully spat on priceless talents. The school taught me the sense organs but not how to be sensitive to organs, they gave me books on how to count but not how to make it count, the school taught me to sit like senators but get paid like teachers.
This Is no trance but the shortsighted and handicapped dreams of those we follow.... They have acquired prosperity, invite papapparazi and postponed posterity. Did they not have a dream twenty years ago, yet they lie on the same exact bed while we keep vigil at their bedside.
Would I have tongued unwisely of my black country if I said they sold light in exchange for darkness? Does our mushroom neighbor country not have perfect vision at night yet we wait jetted fuels and fueled lamps at dusk? Have they not designed their dreams while we wastefully travail on the alter of prayers?
So I threatened to sue, to sue for a golden change. I wanted to sue the monkey that abandoned leaves for money and the Aso rock for the masturbation of our resources,the brown fields have yielded no cowries while the green fields have borne no fruits and the weak legs have nothing for their mouths.
I took my petitions to the men in black robe, it was a beat of War, Parody of justice, I met injustice slept in court while the looters disappeared.
This Is the black syndrome
I Yearn to visit the white coats, for I was feverish, little did I know that the hospitals have become the theatre of epidimecs and castle of derilicts.
So My black country was short of breath, our doctors diagnosed asthma, then I cried for aids but my people In the Capitol raised the AIDS alarm, I beseeched Ventolin, they said its a precious stone. Yet our people in Aso Rock are designated survivors while they abandoned us on the palms of Trado-medicines and death therapists.
I craved to seek divine power, my soiled feet sought a Demi God, I cannot tell it all what my eyes behold, my pious faith was betrayed in cold light.... Our prophets now call for profits.
My Dearest Most Beautiful Black Country, you are badly ageing. When shall we sing to you the beautiful songs of freedom, when shall our voice be heard,when shall you be truly independent, when shall our white pap come out from your black pot. O jo jumo ni a'n ji Riya, is it why you are called Nigeria?
Our Prisons are in dying need to serve the Capitol looters, Aso Capitol should also get the Capitol punishment since you vowed to serve our motherland but you murdered it in cold light.
We have read of the men who built America, we are yet to read of the men who built you, aren't you yet a country?
It's my right to write
It's Your call to work