The Futility Of Life Poem by Olatunde Segun

In the mission of struggle
Man peered to life
He labour for thousand years
To gathers the fruits of the world
Only to leave it behind
And lay in six feet hole

The sand is large
To captivate breathing souls
Tell me the gain?
Of being here
And leave like a snake on rocky
ground

A varlet of sweats day and night
An honest crust just to earn
A stone, man throw to the sky
Only to bringforth an aimed goal
but deflowered by earthly lions

Man view his impotence
When turned to whitish ashes
In his ample bed
Ha! Life of strive
Why was I born?
In bitterness I quenched

Why was I born?
To the world of strict asceticism
Ipso facto, we are born to die
That the world is a stage
Stage? , no, to me but a cage
The life of sweet & bitterberry


But, if Mr death strolls by
Tell him,
That my soul
A docile of excellence
Insurmountable by his crotch

If probably,
that enormous sand
Runs by, Tell her
That my flesh
Not an edible fish
But a -trail of intents-

In this stage of war
our goals we must attained
Before laying In our ample beds