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The Funky Train 2

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Below is the poem entitled The Funky Train 2 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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The Funky Train 2

  The nation is very rich indeed
 But,
 Wounded out of loss direction;
 Wounded out of lack of ambition,
 Weeping out of lack of impulse;
 Wounded out  of  lack  of imagination,
 Ingeniously exhumed out of the citadel of corruption;
 While the funereal ultimately boils down to collateral.
  
 In the funky train,
 All the hoo-ha-noisy end in fisticuff;
 And the crumpled greenback hand-out cough,
 The law has nothing to handcuff,
 
 Kindred turned puppets loss of self-worth in defacto state
 of war,
 Faced with hemorrhaging despondency;
 And splitting migraine disillusionment,
 Miseenscene always greeted with fire and blood,
 With fight and struggle half dead;
 To trip in goats, straw and timber carrier,
 Inevitable suicide spoof of teeming commuters,
 And a caterwauling exodus end in thousands of legs under
 the sea,
 Carnival of Sharks tongue-smacked and praise-devour the
 abundant feast;
 While the aura of authority has little or nothing fish,
 Often, sudden delight death cry of assailed victims,
 Owa! Owa! Owa! {Alight}
 A cry for shanty shambles bus stop,
 As if deaf, the tyrant conductor
 Lashes out in blinding curse and abuse;
 Pressing and shoving for umpteenth fares,
 Owa! Owa! Owa!
 A plead for just a measure of tonic air, 
 Hard kerchief to wipe off addicted
 Face of invincible gossamer,
 Diabolical gene galloping in strides;
 As compassion flees from rigours of heart of stone, 
 If swearing non-syllabic stunned altercating joust;
 Could result in re-ordering of the lost world,
 Plotless plastic lives of mean children of absentee Mamas
 and Papas,
 Would gauche braggadocio even king to brutal submission; 
 O! wretched loud louts touts,
 Very loud louts touts foaming with tactless forming;
 A riposte, may your road be rough,
 A stamp on every man destiny.
 

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