And shifting patterns
Bring no cymbals
Nor trumpets nor drums
There’s never a good dance to this wretched song
There’s only painted gongs
Enthroned in places of filtering tongues
Ordering preached rhythms of the supposed way out
And sending bastard sons that are the true brave wanderers
To make boats in a lost sea of wretched masquerade gods
And thuds for last words
Dressed for the rugged road ahead
And Dancing to preaching songs
Oh kingly dogs
True clarion gods
The giants I know.
He hails from ‘Anambra State’ in the South East region of Nigeria. He holds a National Diploma in Mass Communication in the prestigious Anambra State Polytechnic, Oko and has published stories in the National Papers.
He is 21 years, single and is a devout Catholic, his profession, however, does not interfere with his religion.