Beads Of Sweat Poem by Patrick Akhudu

You judge me wrong, poor Public;
My dealings are an open book,
But your envy has blurred the print!

The beads of my sweat crystallize
Into the gold that fills my coffers.
Fold up your shirtsleeves and work!

I do not deal in dangerous drugs
I bank bags of clean earned cash;
Proceeds from my salsa dancing!

You claim that I'm a bank robber
Because my pockets are bursting?
Know that my music pays well!

I can never be a wash-wash guy!
My flashy lifestyle is a testimony
That I rake in fortunes from my gigs.

You even claim that I won a lottery!
Can't I earn some handsome sum
Playing the clown at kids fun-fare?

I knew Illuminati would come up!
All along you've been dead wrong;
My array of talent is my goldmine.