Lots Of Rots Poem by Mogare Nyamoko

The city rots,
The aroma of refuse shoots the nose
But each individual walking on the street,
Clean he, she claim to be.

The city rots
The church nearby claims
Holiness is secondness to Godliness,
Maybe that is how
Human hearts are rotten.

The city rots
But on the streets all are clean.
What might be the cause of the odour?
The dumpsite maybe
Or the mortuaries uncared-for.

On the street we all act
Like we are blended to this rottenhoodness.
Nearby hotels charges,
Pocket emptying prices.
Perfumes of frying food
Covering the rottenhoodness
But still the city rots.