Lagos is where I live
And some other 15 million souls
I'll tell you a little tale
I once had a neighbour  
Who profits from death
Selling hand made coffins
From woods that rot fast
So this faith-ful day
Having prayerfully secured a customer
He was suddenly given the delivery job
The coffin must be delivered that night
He rented a ghost of a car
That wasted half its fuel on unnecessary sounds
And vibrates a little less than my grandpa's alarm clock
After three hours on a 6km road
With more work done in getting ready that moving
He came close to the delivery venue
Just 200m away from the Police station
And behind the station lies the cemetery
With the deadman's relatives already gathered
And the newest undertakers in town
Just recently hired and trained at the cemetery
And not forgeting the man of the day
Who was brought in the same ambulance 
That was headed to the nearest morgue
But on his brother's suggestion
Was made to pick some family members
And finally halted at the cemetery
Suddenly the car stopped and wouldn't bulge
My neighbour had to carry the coffin on his head
On getting to the station beside the cemetery 
A policewoman stopped him for questioning
Knowing how troublesome the police can be
He told her he was relocating
That the placed he had been buried was too noisy
And so he decided to relocate to this cemetery
The next week he had to furnish another coffin
For the family of the police woman
The words she heard had stopped her heart 

Life here never ceases to amaze me

We are all like moths
Forever drawn to this fire
Our daily lives are a miracle
We live in a mine field
Yearly deaths here will halve Gaza 
From the air we breathe to the roads we ply
Everything pulls us on to a sure death
And at a record breaking rate
The rich is no better than the poor
We all live in this expensive slum
Only that the rich is happier
He bothers more about his car-ffin
Leaves on a desert beside a stinking lagoon
And the poor only bothers about the police
Our most innovative comrades 
We are all like my neighbour
Profiting from death
The death of the law 
The death of humanity
And the death of our sanity 
I am of most men most fortunate
An object of numerous affections
A source of ceaseless infatuations
A point of innumerable considerations 
A recipient of unmerited accolades
A focal point of several love
A store of overflowing delights
A castle of spoken beauty
A channel of hidden charm
A mist of eternal swoon 
Extremely dear to many
Constantly reminded by few
Never made to see my flaws
Believed in beyond reason
Trusted way too much
And not a little loved 
The capacity to change is beyond man
That a monkey learns to walk like man
Never makes it any less a monkey 
No matter the brightness of the moon 
No one will ever dry his clothes in it
Even if the night be made brighter than day 
The period of sleep will hardly notice
Though man's dreams ceaselessly change
And his desires are no less change freaks
Yet his self and needs have not altered once
All that embodies a man remain the same
Ingenuity, social interaction and survival
It isn't man that changes but the time
The time dictates our dreams and desires
The time keeps revealing his creativity
The time emboldens his social needs
The time leaves unchanged his need for survival
It is time that changes and not man
If an early man be fetched and installed amongst us
Once he's accustomed to the time now here
He'll be no bit different from the rest of us