Extravagance... Poem by Ifeoluwa Philips

old bridge cut
as our father cross
the land g't hurt
by the steps of his word
he called the wind
blowing by the side of a river
and all gathered
forming whittling sound
in a frame of stagnant cloud
all ways were made
through the waving hands
of a clapping cutlass
handling by a joyful soul
with a piece of linen on neck
cutting without reward
but for pleasure kneeling behind
life g't easier
when our father made those blocked bush a way
than this day
that no man has the elbow
without a huge of reward
claiming technologies the best
having fun for self
for passion g't buried
splash away like a perished berry
for with no invention
life was sweeter
for both cat and lion
than when life was paint
to us as poor
without the new invention skills
now the road are eating
eating but always hungry
bringing strong to pit
bathing week with blood
yet never stop of consuming
the total average used to invent on its newness
innovation is good
but trying to who we are not
caused us in hurt
rather than gleeing in our hut
we build mansion to colapse
and tells to us
for you buy what kills you
life is good in natural
with little technologies
it's better
with extravagant of who we are not
it kills....