WINGS OF FIRE



Ko-ko-ka; The Oyinbo man has taught our shoes to sing

Now our soles beats drums and our souls merry

Just like it was during the days of Ayankunrin

He who possesses a talkative goat-skinned cylinder that murmurs tunes 



But time and tides have passed

And several cudgels have worked on fleshes

The very flesh of thieves



Fault and Fate I sincerely plead

Make no man travel with wings of fire to his grave

For the kettle has decided to call the jug black

And it even called the pot white



See clouds and crowds 

Dashing out a necklace braced with fire

To a pilferer

Forgetting we do not have enough fuel for ourselves

Then he who looted the coffers

Earned a salute in return

Babanla Hypocrisy



The man with blemishes has thrown the first stone


©Felix Odukudu