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OLIGARCHY’S GRAVE

In Nigeria, health now is a person

thrown like a dice-

The cheers of onlookers hang by a single thread

Synced with a plea to the gods for a six

Preferably a double six

Just to win , to make one-half chance to live

But the gods are long dead.

 

Their rounded bellies lay in oligarchy

a grave filled with the noise of greed

Weaved in branded camouflage at every campaign

Striking stinking sour manifestos-

Beneath which dwells their mouths-

The Insatiable gate of hell-

Where the wealth of the nation now goes.

 

Democracy they chant

Though power to the people now is a dart,

Thrown on the board of the selected few-

the ones which “hope”now fear-

For the one hundredth time, she was called

It wasn’t really her-

It was “government of me, for me and by me”

Who knew the sacred four letters could mean a gory sentence?

 

Health now is crimson red-

Painted by Fake “Da Vincis’ ”

Who holds the brush to make rough sketches

While cowardly flies to the white man to save themselves

For they can not stay endangered but pass a ladder to us-

Saying red is life.

IRENE

 

 

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