This may be the last poem I write
I hope its not my last poem you read
This may rouse Nigerians to fight
Our leaders are stuffed with glutinous greed
Put down your trade and pick up placards
To make a living, they demand we die first
Mr. President, we can’t afford your rich regards
Water is luxury, we drink sand to quench thirst
The street is as quiet as a noisy tomb
Even the unborn hear from within the womb
Sleepless we slept afraid of a dead morning
By nightfall we mourn the Frankinstine of our making
They pledge 25% cut in their expensive lifestyle
Give me a Knife, I’ll cut their life with style
They equate 75% saved to the daily sacrifices of our lives
This is not about saving money, its about saving lives.
Give Goodluck a hand and a he takes your limb, throat and ear
Fuel subsidy removal today,
Air subsidy removal next year
They say endure the pain
But have never tasted this poison
From a President with no school shoes
We learn a bitter lesson
I strike from a distance
With my Pen and my Pad
Soon I shall strike from close range
With chants, slogans and placards
And if I should fall where I stand
And never rise to my feet…
…@mauricechike remember me with a tweet.
Inspired
Maurice Michael C.U