Bookworm

I am the Black Boy, a friend to Romeo and Juliet, well mannered like Silas Marnas, Born Without a Silverspoon in a Hamlet.

One day I took a Gullivers Travel to the Anthills of the Savannah. There I saw Akpan and the Smugglers trading with The Merchants of Vernice. I told them of the Treasure Island but they needed the Passport of Mallam Illiah.

On the Twelfth Night of my Journey, I met the African Child talking about The Joy of Motherhood, to her we were just Sons and Daughters, so She Stooped to Conquer. It was a case of One Week One Trouble because the Purple Hibiscus could not reflect Half of a Yellow Sun. We were No Longer At Ease because The Long Walk to Freedom was longer than So Long a Letter.

I always thought I was A Man of The People, but The River Between brought a Nervous Condition. A Grain of Wheat became like God's Bit of Wood. To the July People it was either a Question of Power or a Palace Walk, but no one saw it coming. Yes, The Arrow of God Struck and there was Murder in the Cathedral. Now that Sizwe Bansi I'd Dead, Who is to be Blame. Of course The gods are Not to Blame.

Mega the pundit.
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