Let us meditate on this poem by P.C.UMEH and see who is really - TopicsExpress



          

Let us meditate on this poem by P.C.UMEH and see who is really the cause of our problems in Nigeria Ambassadors of poverty are The corrupt masters of the economy With their head abroad And anus at home Patriots in reverse order Determined merchants of loots Who boost the economy of their colonial order To impoverish brothers and sisters at home Ambassadors of poverty are The saviours of the people Office loafers in the guise of workers Barons of incompetence With kleptomaniac fingers And suckling filaments Position occupants and enemies of service Locked in the corrosive war of corruption With their people’s treasury And killing their future Ambassadors of poverty are The dubious sit tight patriots Frustrating the corporate will of their followers The beleaguered,hungry and famished owners of the land People priced out of their conscience and power Incapacitated by destitution Unable to withstand the temptation Of crispy mints and food aroma Ambassadors of poverty are The political elites In air conditioned chambers And exotic cars With tearful stories of rip offs Tucked away from Their impoverish constituencies Lying prostrate With death traps for roads Mud for water Candle for light Underneath trees as schools Rat for protein Fasting as food And alibi as governance Ambassadors of poverty are The rancorous elites In battle of supremacy For the control of power And their people’s wealth Mowing down their own With white man’s machine Oiled by the prosperity of black patronage Counterpoised by deprivations As the corpses of their able-bodied men Women and children lie un-mourn In shallow graves In their fallow farmlands Long abandoned Ambassadors of poverty are The round trippers The elusive importers Of unseen goods and services Sand inclusive Who trip the economy down By tricking form M For harvest of dollars as import When their people see neither money nor food Ambassadors of poverty are The able-bodied men on the street Without motives,without vision,without mission Men fit for the farm But glued to the city Hungry and desperate Constituting willing tools in the hands Of political overlords For mission of vendetta Against political foes In their fight for power
Posted on: Tue, 04 Mar 2014 21:49:01 +0000

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