The Egyptian Flood Poem by segun Johnson Ozique

Do tell, hangman of people, how, a whole nation be so cowed by you
You, just one; and your wretched zombies, contaminated by taste,
You, an envenomate that should be avoided like affliction, yet rules
Obviously, it is the guns; your tool, the supreme control of your depravity?

Stupefied, you had the people ascending to all your over-taxing slavery
Forced, they walked about on thorns, bare feet, for your kicks and laughs
Stampeded, your name, your deeds, they spoke of, in reverence, benevolence
Starved, you fed them in rolls of misery, discomfort and cousin dislocation.

At churchyards and mosques it was an open secret you brought them the grieves
Done methodically to eliminate the few, all those who raised their voices
At you, questioning the fairness, the reasoning, the rationale to your actions
To your impropriation of the nation’s best of gold, silver going to you and only yours

For years they trembled and are troubled at your twinges and boredoms
Took to flight and wailing, at your anger; their portion and burden
Yet know; no degeneracy, the flow of blood in shower, shall be deterrent
Enough; to stop the will, as sure, change would come, someday, as the flood in Egypt.