2 poems

Adewuyi Ayodeji

Mansion world

Master, 
I grasp this digger to interdict unapproved crossing 
To your mansion world. 
No one dare close the indelible gap, 
Go have a nap.

What is a divine creation, 
Let's assign no recreation. 
No sane man tampers
With the master's fiery tempers.
 
Only he lives top of the glossy mountain
Cooling his head with water from the public fountain. 
We toil and rot in drought
And the best of us turns a lout.

He luxuriates in the bower of power, 
Ours the duty to hold his exquisite tower.
That is the divine design
Master only ordered to sign.

We have built for him a new brothel
Where he regales in broad daylight 
With our dear ravenous daughters. 

True, his aberration makes us retch, 
But our undying subordination makes us the fanciful wretch.

Don’t tax my soul

You asked why I look so lean
Sorry, I lied to you
Just out of fear
My old agile self died long time ago, 
Its flesh interred in the grave belly
Of the bugs in power,
I wailed as the skeleton was spared 
To stagger about in emptiness.

You ask why I look this lean,
The State forces me to diet.

State, is my soul the next to tax?
You have seized all my gears
On pretence of tax evasion
When did the skeletons begin to pay taxes?
Since your scheme leaves me
With no bed to tax,
You remain the bug on my dry skin, 
Siphoning away my blood in barrels. 

Wonder if it's a divine curse 
That my blood serve as a libation
On the altar of your rite of greed.
Already, I'm diagnosed with anaemia.
Suck me to death!

The state is leaning heavily on me
That is why I am lean.