A Missive To The Power Drunk Poem by Raymond Anyanwu

Gather together my sons;
And listen to this missive
Share it with my children unavailable
That a counsel it be, in days approaching

The oracle has said to caution:
Those who have power and no mercy,
Who take vengeance right by sword,
Leaning to justice with impiety;
Those who get well by doing debauchery; And would benefit from others' woes
Licking their malicious lips
In the name of liberty,
Those who apportion mother Earth's plethora to themselves,
And permit starved children
Fill the marketplace
My sons, pay attention: I refer also, to those Who would yet see such things happen And do nothing; Playing deaf to cries of anguish:
The oracle froths anger and spits umbrage: The splotch of Cain is on them,
And on their disciples,
And on their descendants
When searching for worth,
One finds the gory track
Leading to a sea of bones
Along the inland coastline. For in conclusion, there's no resistance
But something that must fall short,
As politicians employ the handsets
To scour up one vote more.
Every single ostentatious idea ultimately surrounds,
And must turn to those
Who craft a living of bereavement
And relish what is bona fide.
For greatness, whether huge or minute
Must be a yoke that bequeath upon
These agile lords of breath
Sound the caution bugle my sons,
To those rebellious children Drunken with power.