Entombed in pregnant forlornness,
Entrapped in life's tiffs, lovelessness,
The living-dead man zombie-walked,
Overpowered by the wind, insulted by insects.

He saunters now and then, hither and thither,
Chatting with the trees, mistaken, every so often, for one non compos mentis. He zombies about, unaware of his deeds, super dead-ish.
Alive yet lifeless, he is but a living dead,
Fully alive, yet fully dead.

'mum, when will this come to an end?' He asks.
'When will my government recognise me?'
'When will these unknown gunmen stop?'
'When will peace come to stay? '
'When Will our souls cease swimming in a pool of blood?' 'When will my country cease being a dumping ground?'

'Mama Africa, hear my mourning and moaning,
Come salvage your children, this day, I pray.
Our land has transmuted into a bloodbath zone
We now sleep with our eyes open till morning.'
Mama Africa,Mother Africa, I shall spend a million years calling on you till you come to our aid',he animadverted forlornly.