By Erasmus Ikhide
The ink is dry upon the secret pact,
Where justice once was blind, a film has grown;
The umpire’s whistle, hollowed by the fact
That seeds of bias were so early sown.
A digital ghost, a trail of blue and white,
Reveals the cheering fan behind the mask;
Can one who hailed the “Victory” in the night
Perform the dawn’s impartial, sacred task?
“Asiwaju,” the word like incense rose,
From lips that now must swear a solemn creed;
But trust is fragile, as the country knows,
When shepherds are the wolves of partisan greed.
The “parody” of truth, the locked-down door,
The frantic scrub of history’s stubborn trace—
These shadows dance across the counting floor,
And mock the very soul of Nigeria’s face.
Beyond the man, the pattern paints the sky,
A map of kin where merit used to stand;
From Finance halls to where the Customs lie,
One tongue, one tribe, now governs all the land.
The CBN and Finance keys are held,
The CDS, the IGP’s command;
EFCC, DSS—the gates are felled,
By the same hand that grips the steering wand.
From NNPC to Immigration’s gate,
The Customs post and Maritime’s wide reach,
The “Ethnic Conclave” decides the nation’s fate,
While democracy’s high walls sustain a breach.
The Naira’s pulse, the Police baton’s weight,
The Taxes seized, the Intelligence deep—
All channeled through a singular, tribal gate,
While the weary eyes of a nation weep.
And should the cheated cry for legal grace,
To the Supreme Court where the final gavel falls,
There sits a Judge with a familiar face,
Who rose through Lagos’ executive halls.
Anointed first in ‘ninety-nine’s old heat,
By the same hand that now directs the state,
The cycle of the “Conclave” is complete—
From the ballot box to the ultimate gate.
Let the world behold this slow-motion fire,
This gathering storm of disenfranchised rage;
When the referee is bought, the stakes are dire,
And blood may write the ending of the page.
To salvage honor, Amupitan must walk away,
Before the embers turn to living flame;
For if the umpire joins the partisan fray,
The country burns in “Asiwaju’s” name.
Erasmus Ikhide contributed this poem via: ikhideluckyerasmus@gmail.com