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I Have Seen It All

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Below is the poem entitled I Have Seen It All which was written by poet Afolabi Taiwo. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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I Have Seen It All

 The fat director in his piggy mien
 Sitting in opulent oval office,
 Wearing costly French suit
 A delicate silk bow tie,
 While the buttons are straining to keep
 The belly from bursting out,
 In performing callisthenic of the bulge.
 Telephone rag, he lifted two of several
 Dropped and picked with Havana stuck to his pout   
 And spoke rapidly with cheek dancing:
 I want them in my piggy bank
 I want the whole, as my piggy position is concern,
 I will take seventy five per cent of the piggy taken
 Forget about them,
 Leave the piggy bubble project uncompleted
 I will meet you for a brunch,
 Masses rendered impotent, swallowed and wolves down
 By the pig and his henchmen
 Raining down hardship and flooded hopelessness,
 Wiping up suffering and slashing death,
 They fed and sold selfishness
 And leave many to immeasurable loses,
 To wash and watch shame
 Inside the sewage of the rich
 Presenting dramatic performance of bone to bone,
  And starring, the ultimate Warrior Kwashiokor
 For nouveau rich spectators applause,
 Waifs and beggars begged and flogged more
 Expectation refused to manifest in globe
 Yet those who have expanded chests came out
 To yell protestation but, castrated in their ranks.
 The robbed queued in supplication to Almighty
 Ears from the nooks of the ghettoes
 From the air every blessed hour,
 Wailing mulimukun sobbed Allah
 That of rabbi baritone Jehovah Rapha
 Enough! Prostration to lead infinite frustration
 And threw hands up,
 And supported the jaws with fragile limbs waiting
 Aluta continua! Drummed the repressed voices,
 With boundless bundle of fists thrown up
 To face the militant ants with all laser weapon
 Punctured, battered and marched down
 Until the rout were silent;
 Real war is not wage on the battlefield
 But on a space minute than head of a pin,
 World is just a rounder
 Which urchins kick about in the streets,
 The rule and regulation, don’t bother
 Whether pricked by volley
 Or pretended thorns hidden all around
 When permitting dribbling,
 We are fools to the brim.

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