Be Satisfied. Poem by Abednego Oghenechovwiere Omashone

We both rear poultry.
Yes, you reared your own,
And I reared my own.
Mine you served your guest
But you have your own
And I have my own.

Great farmers we are.
Yes, you farmed your own,
And I farmed my own.
My yams taste better in your mouth
But you have your own
And I have my own.

From the jungle, to the oil mill we went.
Yes, you milled your own,
And I milled my own.
My oil served all the labourers
But you have your own
And I have my own.

We both have wives.
Yes, you married your own,
And I married my own.
Mine captures your attention most
But you have your own
And I have my own.

We all must die someday.
Yes, you are to die your own,
And I am to die my own.
But because you have your own,
And I have my own,
You always wanting and taking my own,
You must first die your own,
And thereafter die my own
In second death
For you were never satisfied
With your own.

(to narrow-minded people in our narrow-minded streets.)