Segun Ozique

  A city, the wolfs live side by side the lambs The spider a few houses from the fly Bosses across street from their workers Hunters and wagers in vicious tango ball City, humanism and nature are empty concepts All that counts are lives as commodities and money Men and women exchanging their bodies or part; Their lives, the content in control of the devourers   Dead lives kept alive by marginal fortitude Wretched and impotent agent of happy hours Consumed by eaters of the been born dead; By conditioned huntsman of unending miseries

Museum home to the curious Richly piled to brim with mementos Of so many extinct ways and beliefs: Parts; pieces of crowns, shoes to caps And, beheaded heads of monarchs: All relics of a people exterminated That in tramp for progress, stood In the way of expropriations: needed Goods for furniture, fluffs, furs to hats. As those coming after us are sure to find Same sort without clownish crowns; The relics - leftovers of victims of genocide Part end-product of venture exploitation   Of today’s seekers of mineral and munitions