Their reign stretches to the evening news;
Loathsome shoulders rise above fatten necks;
Dopey ego, lippy pride
Abound upon their faces,
They, who incite tidal tears
Deep within from forlorn toilers – modern villein –
Enmeshed in condolences of crippled patriotism.
Spare clogged ears of slippery words:
“We feel your pains; we hear your cries…”
They, with arms of treachery, pamper
Strikes of wrath grueling months rekindle.
In debts your subjects whine,
In wealth you dine and wine.
Bewail syndicate of hypocrites:
Brigands who break trusts and hearts;
The labourers deserve their pay,
Why make them beg for it?
*** © 2016 Michael Olajubu (alias Jacobs Adewale) ***
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