PINCH OF PITY AND PUNCH OF PARDON
By Chukwuebuka Johnbosco Abara
Theatrics and gimmicks bestride our plain in style
Prance on two feet as feat and skill
By plunderers and kleptos
Who dip and dig their le(p)(che)rous fingers
And asphyxiating phalanges on our spruce porridge
And after each bout of mindless pillage,
Rehearse the creed of subterfuge
Enact stunts to outrun probe and escape the loop of the law
Dramatis personae who outwit and outweigh thespis
In spectacular buffoonery of dramaturgy
Who in their frolicsome frenzy and ruinous reign
Ran and rode with pomp and panache
Wrecked and ran our hearth aground
Fleeced and sleazed, frittered and feasted with incendiary lavish
In arrogant, gallant gaits
And now, faint and wail along the terrain of arraignment
Whimpering in wimpish mien, grovel to the probe-dock
On feigned, wilted legs and bent necks amidst generous wreath and drapes of bandage
Swathed in glistening plaster of Paris, simmering in profuse, decorative pain
Limping and heaving, quivering and quaking on stretchers and wheel chairs
Coughing, scoffing and scourging on surgical collars, cascading cannula, concussing clutches
Costumied and sutured to curry pity
They win after all and flee the leash and shortly, bestowed absolution wreaths
But never weaned off our porridge
Because here, pity trumps reason and proven guilt
And pardon is ferreted from massive hysteria
Faint health twig thrust soothing alibi to unleash ruins and cruise away in a hurry
As a precarious plain that regales in the perpetual persecution of the plebs than prosecution of proven perverts and cruel plutos
Here, an ounce of guilt and probe is worth a pound of make-believe and sympathy
Even the pious probe panels pander to the whimps and caprices of primitive and puerile chauvinism
For we prefer to swear by holy books for the morbid fear of the swift brute and wrath of our own Amadioha or Ogun.
