A journey of 95 minutes,
intoxicating the green youth of tomorrow
driving them with joy and great expectation
Youth applauding and whistling
falls at an obscure emanated section
The breeze of passing through Elemere to batholomen and crossing that carnivorous express.
hearing the songster of the people, *ILORIN*
meandering like they ain't accomplishing back there.
Our pretension becomes like that of-Agbabiaka the great cocoa
The less-- Malete thou we forgot to be our base.
The jungle it won't be thought-
For the judging with the cover of a journal becomes outmoded.
Cracking up and rejoicing like Aderonke gave birth to her unborn baby.
For the moment, the wind changes color becomes darker like the witches in my village
for once I thought, the end of life is nearer
the more I think of that, the higher Adebola taps me with a fake smile.
For once, their great expectation becomes the otherwise
an advanced Pip seen in them
crying out with pleasure
grumbling with confidence
breaking down with saliva
but then their things chose not to fall apart.
Wasteland I will not say,
But timberland I shall call it,
making the past nothing
dreaming out of the present
hoping for a good exile in the thicket.