Ade and the Boy WHP-LIT

Ade and the Boy
Be not ruffled,
The ire of time becomes,
The ghosts of reflections song.
Ade, The cunning old Cat,
Bulged with his pious hat,
The legs that seemed lazy to run,
Faded in the eye of a pointed gun.
Ade duly meets boy.
Boy is not some ruffian wonder,
His muted heist makes me wander
But boy knows the song of the slum,
Boy is part of the dusty sum.
Boy, gun in hand, Meets Ade.
Ade, government stooge,
Boy, government’s deluge.
Product of greed’s hysteria,
Meets the pride of the “area”
Conversation runs mild,
The dichotomy of reflections
Boy is from the wild,
Ade has long lost the actions.
ADE:
Young menace, duly noted
Lazy , conceited, short roads needed,
But these haven of lights and glee,
Were not made from just one me.
BOY:
I know a thousand days in your ruins
That gathers all that the world gives
Bewitched, the spiraling ruins,
Withdrawn from the stable your tortured cry heaves
ADE:
This land has long been cast
A glorious time in past.
I traded not its despair,
I only try to repair.
BOY.
O what wonder you will be
When loaded pits are your dream
These dreams of scars are just me,
You do not know my scream.
I wail with the voice of a barren foil
I am the body, you are the parasite,
I build, I work, I plan I toil,
But all you do is carry inspite.
ADE.
It is easy to colour the glass,
With fiery claws to scare the cat,
But the smartest student in the class,
Knows the glass is more than that.
I am the conundrum of a past
That’s muddled in distrust that’s cast
From years of tortured misery
Burning in the sands of your treasury.
BOY.
What will you do for me?
O land of my father’s pride.
Would you become or would you be?
The moral of wasted years applied.
ADE.
I am scattered in debris,
I am the orgy of different desires,
The road to the song you agree,
Is caved in tortured fires.
BOY:
The greatest question
One I always pondered
Is the question of action
That I wondered,
I have pillaged my hope in the greed of myopic men
My dreams are always tattered now and then,
This road to tomorrow that seems a mirage,
Never ending , always meddling in the collage,
Of martyrs never heard in freedom’s tale,
Where thieves are honored with pious wail,
And honesty is all but a cloud,
of dreams no longer allowed,
This city of scavengers that rises,
Hunting my heart before it arises,
This room of pillaged slaves,
Who fit into spurious graves
And tomorrow is all but a song,
That never comes along,
For we are stuck in eternal today,
Forefathers have ripped our fathers,
And our fathers await to oust our feathers,
No more can we fly
We must wait the by and by.
I ask this question.
What will you ever do for me?………..
Ade stares into the cloud,
The rain soon comes to pout,
The gun hoisted up in his face,
Tells the tale of boy’s ace.
ADE:
You can start by dropping the gun
And dwelling on your pun
For the fool may always be brave,
But he ends in a wasted grave.
It is true that we are constantly repeating yesterday.
Tomorrow is yesterday, that we thought was today.
The running was just a walk
Yet we still remain………
Ade and boy,
Fractious
Frictitious
Dialectical dichotomies,
Today the gun stands between
Tomorrow there may be no reason.
It is the reason within,
That can lead us to reason.
Ade is my Nigeria
I am the Boy.
I ask him these questions

Trying to find my dream.
by elijah peter

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