Write a tribute to the living
and not the dead
What's the essence
When they can't read
Your words of pretence?
Well now,I too am dead
Left to mourn me are
Friends who never cared
Family who never shared
In my times of tears
Lovers who never picked my calls
The very ones i held dear
Left to mourn me are
Neighbors too busy to hear
My sorrowful voice
When i cried in despair
Who let me to death
But who would
On the front seat at the funeral
Give long speeches and drink mineral,
Filling pages with watery words
Telling mourners how close we were,
What sought of friends we were
Left to mourn me are
Celebrators of Shadows,
Despisers of the man
Who walked under the sun's tough blow
Left to mourn me are
Ghosts who never visited
Ghosts who claimed they 'mean well'
Too occupied to see me well
Who tell the world "I know him well"
"He's a writer, he sings well
He's a feminist, who loves women
He's 'ajebo', he's not fierce"
The very ones
Who never read my poems.
Please write me no tributes
While I'd be leaving
Else I'd get up like old Roger
And serve you some beating
Celeberate me while I'm living
Not at my leaving
Why write tributes
That I wouldn't be reading?
depart from me
You workers of mischief
©obiene Solomon
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