Bloodied Plateau Poem by Michael Adeosun

... In the years of King Bubu

The clouds turn black
as the green grass over
the beautiful plateau turns red.
A stream of blood runs over the field
and permeate the soil.
Like an abattoir gall litters the land.
Not of cows but of humans.
Humans already placed at
a cadre below cows.
Slaughtered.

Yet,
Mr President,
the Cowmander-in-chief is loudly silent
He bellows his command
when a herdmen is killed.
He can only meow a regret
for the killing of a hundred kafirs.
The baboons were destined to be soaked in blood anyway.

The world cry murder and ethnic cleansing.
But the president's men say
it a mere disagreement.

The cloud is black.
And the grass is red.