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Why mama, why?

Shall we fail to speak
With the talkative rod?
Shall we cease to paint
With our single-mouthed brush?

Why mama, why?

You drop your cheek
On your tired jaw in despair
Hands, tied with nothing,
Eyes tired of watching

Horror films happening life
In our helpless country,
But, while you were young,
Your complaints were never heard.

Why mama, why?

Our papas at the top
Have no fatherly affection
For us, children of the masses
Nor loyalty to their fatherland

Why mama, why?

You play with papa at night
But fail to pray for our tomorrow
You pour your mind to us at midnight
But failed to talk sense to our bosses in guise of papas.

Ask papa, why?

Why continue to read bulky papers
Inked with the same old stories
Of the same set of careless people
Who care less how much you drop for one?

Why interested in the frontispiece
Headlined for backward oriented front-leaders?
Why sit down to listen to reporter
Who is fed up of her boring network news?

Ask papa, why?

His head has gone hairless
With the load of tax on him
His potbelly flattened to plate belly,
Why? Fast? Or pricey cost of food?

Mama, tell papa

Politics goes beyond what we read
In NEWS paper – North, East, West, South,
Beyond what we see on broadcast,
It happens on round tables; it is planned!

But, we, advocate of ourselves
Speaking with our pen for change
Echoing truth through stained papyrus
Untill all hear our cry; they, yield our plea.

We would not cease to write
With our right hand our right
Until our children tell us, “thank you, papa, mama,
For rightfully fighting for our future.

©Elemide Benjamin