In my country
it is a pity
that corruption is hawked like water,
and so contagious like catarrh.
It seems so rampant like bird flu,
that even a fetus has a clue.
It has become the currency in the market place,
and stands to stare you in the face.
The innocent are submerged by its demons,
and the saviors seem to sell their sermons.
even the air seem so scarce,
unless you have a privy pass.
This is in my country,
that was once the envy of beauty.
The apparel of peace was her pride.
She was favorably festooned like a new bride.
Today, corruption has raped men and women,
and has birthed conflicts and chaos as children.
Corruption seem to construct a chapel
where injustice and oppression are the solemn gospel.
Even a poet seems to be wooed,
by it's dangerous darts so crude.
But his pen shall always be erected
like a stallion that's sexually excited.
David O. Olusanya
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem