Money

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MONEY by OLOLADE ABIOLA BAKARE

Money here.
Money there.
Everywhere.
Anywhere.
Whatever you want, you get.
But where is the Money to spend?
You are useful but,
Children and Family
matter.
Health and education
matter.
Food and transport.
Night and day.
Church and Mosque.
In the Lord’s name.
You’re needed everywhere.
Life is tough without you.
Nothing comes easy without
you.
Oh Money!
Where art thou?
You are as hard;
As a nut to crack.
Without you,
Our problems are like my mother’s paying
beads.
Will you desert the commoners like that?
They search.
They count.
They wait.
They cry.
Yet theirs is a life of beaded needs.

To all money-proprietors…

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THE LOST PROPERTY

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THE LOST PROPERTY.

The awareness of guilt
The state of reticence
The manacle of restraint
That has accompanied me for years
Has vanished as a bubble does in thin-air
Only its fragments remain
In places of extreme solitude

Civilisation has separated us
Technology has sundered us
Imperialism has disunited us
I have lost my conscience
I have lost my rue
I thought I had freedom
But the reverse is the case

Your dearth, it is, that makes me
Take to the streets in rags
Indiscernible from a lunatic
Except that I appear less filthy

Your dearth, it is, that makes me
Steal from my fellow country-men
Relegating many into poverty
Without a hint of penitence

Your dearth, it is, that makes me
Defiant to mother nature
Longing for repulsive coupling
With another who is gender-equal

Your dearth, it is, that makes me
Commit crimes against humanity
Slaying my man-kind en masse
Only to satisfy my egomania

Your absence is killing me
But I know not
Your lack is bestialising me
But I fear not
Reality is only a lid away
It is more than a big shame
That not anymore can I find shame