HELLO CHRISTMAS
IT IS ME ONCE AGAIN
Though my smiles seem to now slope as the years gravitate
Though my arms no longer wave in cheer but now fold in sad akimbo
And Though my countenance no more leaps at you but now sits in a limbo
Plead I you to stay awhile with me
Tilt your ears so I could whisper my sermons of woes and throes
Beckon I to you that you grant me silence, solitude and quietude
Sit, let me sing the songs and chants of a certain toll gate at the middle of Blood-lake Lekki
Lend me your ears awhile, let me reminisce tales of a mad yesterday
Beckon you me for a jiffy to express my sad-joys of an epoch of resilience by lazy youths.
Resilience against wickedness, high-handedness and seeming witch-craftry of ex-criminals-turn uniform men
Resilience against anti-humans and against Aliens from Planet SARS
I pray thee to blow through my clime with a special seasons wind
Blow and huff into the skies the remnant vestiges of pain, agony, oppression and suppression evident in my village
Let the jingles soothe the hearts of those left behind by those whose lives were whistled away by live-cartridges and shells at Lekki tollgate
Blow! Blow! Please Blow! Blow out the lights of those that have quenched the lights of my ancestors, and have sworn to quench mine
Puff and huff away those who hoarded life-packs (palliatives) till spoilage, whilst many died of hunger and starvation
May your seasons be judgment for those who enlisted their arms in bagging away of lifeless human carcasses at Blood-Lake Lekki
Indeed may your seasons console my battered countenance and return normalcy to the patriotic palpitations of my heart
Since my milk-teeth (days) I have enjoyed the collection of gifts of different types but all I want this time is the gift of Joy, Happiness, Freedom and true-independence
Independence from inconsistencies, Independence from the clutches of enslavement,
Independence from the very ideological chains that have fastened my lots to the ground
Indeed I wish not for plastics, cakes, rice grains, meat, drinks and everything fleshy
I love my rice without grains of sands like bullets
I enjoy gifts better in the midst of joy and gladness and not in the midst of whistling bullets
My garments adorn me better when the air is clear and not filled with the dust of upheavals
I pray thee to take along with you these moments of deceit and betrayal of trust, so I can jingle the bells all the way to a moment called “Never again”
Seasons greetings My friend
Seasons greetings fellow victims
Seasons greetings Jailer and Oppressor
Drake Omonode
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