Memoirs on the hilltop

I learned the hard way upon coming 

To Lagos 

       When I leant too much

 upon my family's circle of influence 

        The weary path darkening indeed

  Wearing the quirky pall of withering mantle

   The mangled memoirs of pined-grey sky

           In your bagattelle as if

Your somewhat lilliputian may not rise to golden hills 

As if your stool as a minnow 

 As your smithereens may not derive verves 

Enough to plead nature to heal you

 with a mused balm above the trenches of your feet

To gripe the hurly burly's feet and fever and the burning lamp of the windy crass beguiles to lament and agonize in winter storm 

This hard grail of frustrating happenstances a boon aftermath 

Then I thrive at the benign leaps 

In that rashness and inclemency 

of winter storm tis abhor of the golden valley's broth unbundle and brisky rinses

The bleary twigs overheard that golden words 

Retrieved from the palms of golden valley 

Trumped up gallons of gallantry 

In my gaunt frail of blast tempest befuddled plume

Over all enchantments of encroaching scathing cannons,pinions and sordid plumes grew

When broken frost was frolic spectre grail

Like strings of rising petls upon crypt of cloudy canopies 

Dost not greets renegade above the lanky lassitude of desolate winter's dregs

Springs from broken limbs of itchy navels 

Not forthcoming oh as if not forthcoming.