With sternness, the jackboots came,
Their lofty promises, a different game,
With bungling hands, with brutal hearts,
All obstacles they ripped, they tore apart.
Places of pleasure, they turn to death traps,
Laying dead, destroyed, reduced to scrap.
Where once there was a bustling factory,
Becomes shrine, for purveyors of Calvary.
Where once there was a place of comfort,
Now a place of tears, gnashing, discomfort,
Lost for purpose, the saviors mingled with the mess,
Lost for a savior, the land festered in distress.
From the north and the east the tearful fled away,
From poisoned swamplands, foul with decay,
Seeking succor, from their poverty woes,
Seeking respite, from unbearable throes.
Big city: gold field of hope, for the bounty train;
Big city: sad reality to become, of bounteous pain;
Big city: the clime they also find, of vast obstructions;
Big city: where dreams come, destined for destruction.
Where again will they flee, the constant strife,
The ceaseless disasters, the angst of daily life?
At home, there are only torrents of anguish,
Far away they journey, far away they languish,
From Europe, the Americas and far away Asia,
Battered spirits yearn, for the comfort of amnesia.
Where again, shall they find a comforting bed,
Else amongst the destitute, the mad and the ,dead?
Amongst the legion resorted to hope no more,
They, who nothing again matters, not anymore.
Like locust next came, the sly politicians,
Predator eyes, the smile of morticians,
Their promise: a new game, a different game,
Their passion : to deceive, to rob , to maim
From my book PROVERTRY : provertry: poems of their country: ogunjobi, rotimi: 9798789494561: Amazon.com: Books