Life is a sweaty race run for crumbs
from cradle to grave. Bees hunt
nectar. Elephants stamp
rude, proud possessors of size.
Jungle justice for all

animals are equal; some more
or less. A battle of blackmail,
terror, backstabbing. Humans,
hunters of peanuts. Crumbs,

brother, do not loot
your mother’s milk,
sell your father’s genitals,
steal your sister’s kidney
for such useless crumbs.

Reason eludes.
The world crumbles;
or is it we who have smashed
everything? memory decays

where are fathers,
who give foundation?
Where have history makers gone;
the writers of tales? Memory fails.
we remember only to forget.
leave crumbs, dust, ashes.

By Umar O. Abdul


Umar O. Abdul is a Nigerian playwright and poet. He has published Soyinka Lied, The Making of Tomorrow, The Surrogate, Ashes (with Kenneth Weene), The Rightful King (with Kenneth Weene), The Broken Moon, Owailo, Frozen Frame, The Inheritor, Stray Bullet, and King’s Darling. Married and blessed with beautiful children, Umar resides in Ankpa, Nigeria where he lectures with the Department of Theatre Arts, Kogi State College of Education


Read More in Kenneth Weene’s Literary Page