They keep harming our future
with sham Armour ,of
empty towering buildings
Tricking our folks ,into whipping us up
from the vision of inventive
sweet still dreams. On some innovative beds,
Down to the threshold of our restless classrooms.
Even when our hands ,can hardly handle pen
They’ll snatch us , from the tonic breast
of dearest moms. Deprive our ears
off, the formative tutor of our wards
Or our mom themselves, short-live
Yelling on our puny toddlers head:
“you must go to school!”
and learn the way to lead Nairas
into your bags-you must insure
our pouches when they go dry.
They’ll hand us stationary, and few books
Pour undone noodles,into our faulty flasks
and point us the path that leads , to redeeming schools.
schools where you don’t pay a dime-free education
a story for another day.
so they crunch our hammers,with fist
of sneering tongues
with the twisting motion , from cynical views
hush! They cast the box of our creative tools
farther the depth of the bottomless pit.
Then, they inundate our feeble hands
with these craggy like books
supplement our bags , with ink-less jotters
who will suffer afflictions of many jargon
for most of us no nothing , about this
business of finding missing Y’s ,and
As we grow, reality begins to dawn on us
That this phony free education
is our main entanglement
They, our folks, also start
losing the fastening belt of faith
choking on their gasping hopes.
for now, they hear , the mirage promise land
our kings are taking us
is melting, if not by now efface…
like ex-girlfriend, they use and dump us,
Abandoning wobble dreams
define less , on fading treadmill
after destroying our transforming hand tools
they dump our fractured dreams
Yet they look for our peace
when they taught us no togetherness
Punch for notes, where they save no cash
Frisking for hidden stars
in the heart of Bermuda triangle
How will they now reverse
the end product of a chemical change?
They have forgotten , so soon-
Their memories has gone too soon
so they do not remember ,
How they have successfully white washed our brains
to cleanly belief
our passport to success is hoarded in the depth
of mysterious white collar jobs.
They have lost all the memories
of how their lacerating tongues
spluttered dousing water , to cool off
our flaming passions
Now, we know
But all we know is osamalizing grammars
We have crammed all the steps, behind
the magics of putting x beside y
only to fail to bring them out
of the pages of our seriously brutalized books
can someone tell us why?
All we are , are nothing
But one way factory slaves
Jobless now, though, as the plantations
where we manage to plight our trade
Suddenly folded up,
only to unfurl in this
Big mansion , of one religious center
where we don’t have to stay
unless we want to pay some tithes.
What we care for
is to nurture the dream ,
Of where to say, yes sir!
All we do best , is don our executive slave suits
Dust our anxious CVS , oil our rusty shoes
And begin the trekking , and coming
for unlock jobs
in scorching sun, and pelting hailstones
we wade through , like refugees
Scouring for warehouse of those
who didn’t jettison their own tools.
Crestfallen , the headline we yield are:
Job seekers, stampeded;
skillful PHD. drivers of trucks
and an endless tale of clueless youths
submitting , their necks to garrote-lives end
in self sent gallows
Our dividends from our shares of long
burnt night oil
and the empty of our ingenuity into the impetuous seas
is this meager , soupcon,stipend
and some take home that do
not take one home.