A Brook In My Room Poem by Maclawrence Famuyiwa

Today's rain spoiled my mood
But why not spare my room?
It poured in without a shame
So, who's to take your blame?

Though, I live in the jungle,
My life needs not be bungled,
'Cos this flood was just a lot,
This is not just my thought.

Its anger was unleashed pure,
Tho' not only to the poor,
Those at Lekki too not spared,
Their riches brought their shares.

Tho' pained, not by my soaked books,
But by all the food I was to cook,
They were soaked by this crook,
That turned my room to a brook.

My hunger cried, as the rain poured,
My survival swam, as the sky mourned,
Next salary hid, as the pocket dried,
Debts begged, as the month end tarried.

Whenever, they come for votes,
That's when this crook in my room bolts,
Ballots boxes filled, with silent tears,
Voters' tummies filled, with craps.

Moneys then build them, beautiful mansions,
The rest, they drink as French wines,
Looting, their only mission,
More floods, they invite to dine.