Most of us work everywhere
A large workforce here and there
A half or nearly all of the country
For us, poverty works
Never are we unemployed
We are just busily poor- that’s all.
We do all sorts;
White-collar crimes and whatnots
Atop dumpsites, along dark alleys
Massed up on election day
Rascals
Scallywags
Tarts
Urchins
Vermin or what is it you say?
We, children of the Most-High;
You- Men after God’s heart
Why then is this void so wide?
Nurtured by want; tamed by greed
A big industry established in fear
Of God; of men; of the devil himself
We work the day by the night
Yet we seek no pay-rise.
meet the poet: Shittu Fowora
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