Penning Like Dele Giwa Poem by Stephen Omolori

Fraudulent politicians hope to reach Trump's height,
But they treat their constituents like trash in a dumpsite.
In state owned arsenals, their thugs captain like Thierry Henry:
They made that happy mother down the street a teary mummy.
The honey in her mouth now tastes like a spoilt marmalade,
As she sees the destruction of the eggs she and her mama laid.
Everybody is afraid to tell them this ugly truth,
Even when their policies invite vultures to our dusty roof.
I'm tired of being afraid to express myself,
Like a repentant witch wanting to confess herself.
The whole nation is covered in red like mourning San Siro,
Then it got me asking if this nation's boatman can still row.
Because they want the powers that drove emperor Nero crazy,
They abuse human rights, forgetting that we're in democracy.
Poverty is weaponized now, so it's 'damn principles',
When hungry activists see these corrupt beings with foods.

Instead of repairing the walls teachers holding rods slave between,
They'd fly their kids to England, singing, 'God Save the Queen'.
Before you call me a son of a gun for speaking up,
You won't find their children where their thugs are beating us.
So, why do youths attack who they declare most wanted,
Leaving these youths at nights to become ghost haunted?
When I see Democracy and how they broke her lips,
It makes me realize that Nigeria is in an apocalypse.
I couldn't sleep last night until 2 AM:
Religion, Ethnicity said I should watch what I say to them.
Though the electorate don't want them to continue,
They'd campaign, saying, 'I've got something new'.
I want my pen to be a voice for the masses, like Dele Giwa's,
But I hope they don't drop my picture where they pay killers,
Especially as I charge alone against them like Cesare Borjia;
But life's the market everybody exits, including the Ìyá L'ọja.