Naked Dancers Poem by Walter Abah

On the highways stood triggers,
spraying on travelers,
muddy blood flowed on the potholes;
as the travelers traveled home.

At dusk, stood the slays,
on high-heeled soles,
lure lurking in sold souls,
as they sold the temple to the rich souls.

At the pulpit, stood the man on suit,
heralding one tenth -
thus sayeth: why do you rob me?
bring your one tenth to my plentiful tenths,
that ye may be blessed.
Alas! My Father's house is now the den of robbers.

At the podium, stood the masters;
building bridges over our deserts.
With their sweet mouths,
they drained our sweet crude.
They are now pregnant with our wealth.

At the cross-road, stood the beggars,
crippling for alms,
prying blind eyes and raining curses on stiff palms.
At dusk, we saw them- carousing.

They are all naked dancers,
dancing with naked souls.
The lure of filthy lucre.
East, West, North and South,
the earth is sunk in plagues.