TRAIL OF OUR AGED BONES
.
Let me have a bite
Beside the shaped ancient teeth
From the mythic kola
Where only wisdom dwells.
.
Let me have a smoke
From the ancient pipe
Pulled out from aged toothless mouth
That smells our untainted heritage.
.
Let me have a sip
From the curved horns and cultured Calabash
Filled up with ale and undiluted palm wine
To intoxicate me with our heritage.
.
Let me have  a seat
Amongst the white beard heads
To play the "local game" with stones
So that I may be taught the bounds in my thoughts
From aged bloods that flows like euphrates into the garden of our motherland.
.
Let us have some music
Sang with dry lips that echoes from soundless cave
Infuriated with flutes, gongs and talking drums
That we may dance-off our ignorance
To see the chain left by our ancestors to be drawn.

Balogun David Tolulope
Drunk 🍺 Poet 📝