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Poems

IT’S THAT TIME AGAIN, WISE UP

He cringed
As one in deep pain
Yes he was in pain
Pangs of hunger
Had a good crunch on him
Cos the black tinted SUV
Whose sliding glass
At his point
Every sunrise
Was a meal ticket
For the day
Took a different route
To make him miss his ‘benevolence’
Appreciate more his ‘kind gesture’
Like one who won a jackpot
The next time he slides
In a land with much
So much to go round

But when he’s told

You deserve more

Than the crumbs

Thrown to you

That sliding glass

Has in it no good for you

Than the fragments

Given to you

Like an outcast

In your own land

He yells furiously

Ready for fight

When he’s told 
What they do
Make rights privileges

Make life tough

Make it stiffer

Let them grind

Even roast

Let them thirst

Give them drops

Some sort of succor 

They will dance

And celebrate

Then become supporters
He throws a punch

When will these scales

drop off

So we can see

What is dividing us

What is destroying us

Wise up

No better time than now

To get it right

All Rights Reserved © Stella C. Obokoh 2018




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