By Tikum Mbah Azonga
I felt hurt, stabbed and mortified
Never before had any man died such a death
Yet, I had all my seven green pamphlets
Nothing was lacking, nothing
The axe could not have fallen any worse
That’s why I stood alone, bleeding and marooned.
If I had God, I would have been fortified
But I had said this God not leadeth
With no leaflets, no piglets and no singlets
I now stand here alone, all alone, weeping
For rejecting him, I must accept the curse
What I yearn most is by him to be groomed.