When the sky shall cry soon,
your head shall be the dwelling place
of its tears of shame and lame.
I will help to sing this cracking song,
an unbelievable old fashioned tone,
a jazz tone of Fela Anikulapo,
Nigeria shall be the theme of my tone,
we will not clothe corruption again.
My poem, our poems shall stand
to unveil those political animals
with palms written with greed.
In the basket of illusion have they
deceived us and made us insane,
our eyes, a beach of salty pains,
tears comes to play randomly.
My poem, our poems shall have
hands to get this uneased land rest.
Poets are not myopic in nature!
Do not trade with our senses!
Wole Soyinka dreamed of conquering
but failed at his teething words.
For boys of tomorrow we taught
how to guide their tomorrow.
My brothers in arms and words,
My sisters in wordwar three,
be armed with your armours.
Freedom one day shall be ours!
From political imposition we’ll rise,
Poetry a mightier weapon of warfare.
Man up men and women of words!
Man up sisters and brothers in wordwar!
A triumphal medal is in front!
Of womanhood, we’ll journey,
Of manhood, we’ll stand firm.
Advance towards corruption!
Man your words and kill!
War for human right
War for tomorrow,
War for freedom from bad leaders!
We are not cattle to be slaughtered,
let them know we have blood flowing,
a speaking blood than Abel’s.
Tomorrow we shall not hang our towls
on the surface of the sea to dry quick.
We have a dream to rewrite Nigeria,
so, man up brothers and sisters of wordwar
let’s save Nigeria and purge her sins away.
A saint is not without a sin, a saint
is one with a sin and knew he has a sin.
Man up let’s save our fatherland.
Nigeria died yesterday when we stopped
sounding the drums with our mouths.
Nigeria is gone into abyss
we could take another route to
resurrect our land-
Man up brothers and sisters of words
tomorrow is in our hands.
©John Chizoba Vincent