Black Gold Poem by Clinton Chinedu

A city is envisioned by great predecessors
One to be great like many others
Many others which came before it
A great nation planned to be passed on
Charming to all those who gazed it upon
The nation is colored so all shall know
But unlike other great nations it's color is not snow
It is not white or blue but colored a rare black gold

This black gold is not simply a paint
It is a rare gem as rare as a saint
A bond which would keep us together
All through life's storms and thunder
Inhabitants presume it a mineral material
They lack insight and overlook true potential
They say "our predecessors left us liquid minerals"
For but this thought they all turn into criminals

Resorting to mischief by stealing the presumed treasure
But this false presumed treasure is limited in measure
Even with the misunderstood treasure they all hail
They make wake and plan but only to set sail to fail
The forefronters say "I am different from past ones "they claim
But only to loot from the land to me they are all the same
Having become addicted to fortune and fame
Our leaders turn to beasts and unable to tame

This false treasure has driven them all insane
They have crippled the country and made the nation lame
The land is believed to have crashed and failed
For this reason many great and small have wailed
Dwellers have had enough and cry to be saved
Earnestly seeking for a way to be paved
Realization brings about a sense of duty
And this sense of duty is the black gold's true beauty

These greedy leaders fail to understand
The treasure is not controlled by one's hand
Wealth profit nothing without a good family
Family the only thing which ensures one lives happily
They are slow to repay good but quick to evil
As gratitude is a burden to them, revenge is a pleasure hill
Still a day of great glossy green glory shall come
When all shall realize and in togetherness take form

A black wonderland which is very well desired
They shall know what I have known and be inspired
The true treasure has no measure unlike the false
Being able to restore the dying nation's pulse
It is the dream of the land that make me bold
To say the dwellers of the nation are thus treasured black gold
A love so powerful and hot it would freeze the cold
And make us a utopia made completely of black gold of old