(I wrote this poem because of what I recently experienced when I traveled to the South Western part of Nigeria. I mean, it was as noisy as a market place all through the journey . Talk and more talk till I got angry, got tired of being angry and then decided to write a Poem in the midst of the “market”).
Come along with me on this journey.
Companions and compatriots on an expedition
Roaring and trumpeting as they transited
Engaged in a shouting tournament for the clueless
Not knowing that having an opinion doesn’t translate to having wisdom.
So I remained in tortuous silence
Whilst seated next to an unabating windy storm
Whose preoccupation was spitting out a mixed grill of the savory and the unpalatable
That ended up leaving the confused more befuddled.
Out of the moving contraption, I teleported
Went outdoors though situated within doors.
Home in the midst of the greenery and rusticness
The diarrhea of utterances, now a distant inconvenience.
The rabble-rouser can’t make peace
The peacemaker can’t ordain war
Silent noise is better than disharmonious verbiage
I’d rather listen to neighing horses and bleating sheep.
Rhythmic unpleasantness, the rhetorics of verbal gladiators in full display
My aching ear, the casualty
Quietude is an anathema when the rabble marches
I am sitting in the wilderness of nothing hoping to learn something.
Finally, a messiah surfaced
Displaying the authority of boots, uniforms, and guns
Park this automobile he ordered
Unthinkable silence at last
My aching ear and banging head can now convalesce in peacefulness.
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