BLACK GOLD

BLACK GOLD

With enormous powers conferred on him as president,

The buck stops at Oga’s shiny mahogany desk

From where disaster, after disaster,

Unto the heads of subdued lives flows,

Poor folks, who, constantly,

In unspeakable want and fear bask.

None, in this tropical clime where corruption is rife,

Real fight to a cabal’s looting plans on giving.

Quite a few roughing it out

In shanties pinch at soup slimy nightly,

Talking in a hushed tone about their oppressors,

Namely, despots and thieves,

For whom Manna’s reserved,

No thanks to an impoverished citizenry.

With enough for everyone’s needs, to many it seems,

Hardly need anyone his, or her, greed’s needs

To satisfy, no matter whose that may be,

Yet, by this creed stand not powers that be.

Black gold, to not a few nations, east, west, north or south,

Misery brings, when viewed as lottery jack-pot

By leaders with no vision, let alone, mission.

But no country with

A giant geographical expression of sorts,

Where graft no arm of government spares,

Hardly, compares.

Yet, in no distant future, its ballot, opine optimists,

Sacred will stand, since, according to them,

Nothing remains the same, and, as well, “This land

Of opportunity shall bristle with prosperity

Because true representatives would,

Not misrule with impunity”, they believing.

Lagos,

March 18, 2013