There is poetry in everything
The good
The bad
And The Ugly
It doesn't matter really, a thing
In your hood
From a Bard
Or the hungry

Really, if INEC blinds our eyes and twists our neck
Giving us a disease called the Eye-Neck Syndrome
No one should bother
Not within our borders
If little mangled poetries
Tell our general histories
Or the little little Tory
Of one's private story

There is poetry in everything
The good
The bad
And The Ugly
It doesn't really matter, a thing
Nation fit be good
Country don turn Sinbad
Or land full of thuggery

Really, if INEC blinds our eyes and twists our neck
We'll be in National Hospital to cure our Eye-Neck Syndrome
Abuja go dey scatter
Lagos go dey jagajaga
In the looming akata
Endsars go be simple matter

But, there's really poetry
In only The Good
Not The Bad
Nor The Ugly
And it really does matter a thing
Where politicians see world class
For their belly they eat world class
And of payment they surpass world class
Yet on election day....
Oh, ma-abasi, on election day...
Chineke mere anyi Ebere
A si m, on election day....
wọ́n fẹ́ràn àwọn tí wọ́n jẹ́ aṣiwèrè

If we, in our nation, want to see poetry
In our national good
Not ethnic bad
Nor tribal ugly
It should to all of us matter something
Kyale zabin jama'a ya yi mulki
~© Mac-Kadi.

© Mac-Kadicou