Song Of A Poorman Poem by John Chizoba Vincent

When would the vegetables in my farmland grow?
Others have harvested theirs but mine is yet
To germinate after many month of impatient wait
Take the children away and share them among my brethren
I have no money to train them but I can impregnate women
As many times as they want it am a man
Here I would sit and would not journey to the mountains
My life is too precious to me to suffer in vain when others would work
And then I eat without laboring among them in the farm

Where are they going this early morning?
My legs have developed the mind of their own
I can't risk taken that bold step of faith
My life would be better soon as I live
It is well with my soul at home.
Come fear and dwell in my abode
Come weakness and entangle my legs
I can't take risk unnecessarily to the mountains
The governments are bad to the core
The economy is not favourable to me

How would I move forward when I am not like them?
They are better than me in every thing they do
The rich men had stolen all the money
Poor I am without bread to eat
Commoners are voiceless and I can't express my self
I would remain here until I die in penury
Perhaps my potential shall be useful in the graveyard
What should I think of while I am poor?
I didn't go to school, I won't make it
My children shall build the houses in my compound
I am too old to work


Can I make it without a platform?
The governments are the rogues in the country
Why was I born without money and wealth?
Twenty four hours is too small for me to work
The lizards in my house are for decoration
I would sleep all day hustling don't pay
Soon I would rule the country and steal their funds

Make the bed for me I want to sleep
Posterity would not count on me
Why should I work day and night when
They all sit at home and steal money with pen?
I won't work but I shall be rich
Advice are meant for the fools