Black talks, dog fight
Stock and bulk in shame, all seems to have no brain
The truth of it all is epic, drained
Hopes way beyond far, in the face of hard welfare
Who dares? Who cares? Who stands to uphold a future pearl?
For I ‘corruption’ stares and steers the honey and gold so dear
Into the pockets of my slaves – Oga at the top chair
Yet I remain a loyal citizen under this blue hive with black lace on my skin
Like a barber I bleach and still cut the hairs of struggle. This bunch of innuendos!
As a teacher I teach the toddlers of today to be tomorrow heroes
While the jingling of gold in pocket is scarce, the hit of impoverishment always new
Now the elixir for eternal exuberance is stalled in the belly of thieves
As folks overshadowed with light, turned felons over night
Some drag to dust on the eve of crowning before the dawn of enthronement.
Sense as four sight
Black talks as dogfight
Stock and bulk in shame
Oga at the top – in brain so lame
Written by: Doubra God’swill Grikpa
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.