My People, My People Poem by Ayotokunbo Ajewole

My People, My People



My People, My People
my people are crushed by poverty and hunger
living life in a daily death and danger,
led by leaders without initiative,
'Mr Innocent' is now at the mercy of thieves.

My People, My People,
My People are divided by tribe and religion
so many minds bound up to their own opinions,
what your name is, and your state of origin,
a lovelier hatred than the common tribalism.

My People, My People
I pity the land inhabited by my people,
seeing the hands that hold the reins for its future,
incapable hands looking only for money
wickedness to them is as sweet as honey,
can they do better, no it will be worse,
for they have received money’s own curse,
struck with the African virus – selfish ambition
they have gotten to the top and drank its concotion,
awake the next day, its all amnesia time
they know absolutely no man,
therefore they’ll make laws to put all others in a can
sealing miserable bargains
for the soul of my people,
again and again even for the unborn generation.

My People, My People
there are many beggars among my people,
rich beggars, poor beggars in my fatherland.
Some beggars sit on soft cushioned sits,
while other beggars just sit in the sand.
Some beggars ask for pity and for help,
while some other beggars collect theirs by force.
Our highways have their own beggars,
its only 20-naira to become a policeman –
a policeman among my people
official begging, and in Uniform,
night duty torchlight boys
begging with guns and batons.
There are beggars who are bosses in their offices,
occupying high positions,
the only job they understand is accounting:
how to change money’s figures from tens to millions,
and stack them away and safe in bank accounts abroad,
either for themselves or for their big daddy.
Political beggars are many among my people
political beggars who are politically begging,
service? where is the service?
service to my people ended with national youth service
elected by themselves and ‘some people’,
they rule first and then get elected,
make yourself your people’s selected,
politicians buying the voters,
voters buying politicians,
my people selling and buying themselves.
its like this:
how much does a politician cost?
give me your call card and lets discuss such,
the bill will be passed when
the house gets its “allowance”
you carry your Ghana must go,
i’ll carry mine
then we’ll begin to work together
serving my people.

author: Tokunbo Ajewole, June 02,2005

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
A lament for my people: Nigerians
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success