Cosmetic Intellectual
My desk-mate can hear
My heart roaring silently in pain
Doom, doom, doom the heart roars to me
Whenever the cosmetic intellectual enters
The Garden of Eden is before me
To cultivate, plant and enjoy fruits of tree of life
But the sand of success is shifting daily
To those with shoulders to lean on, not brain power
In the crescendo of honest efforts
I receive diminuendo of dishonest rewards
The seeds germinate but never yield fruits
In this campus where foxes have holes to run to
Fate is looking at me with cruel eyes
My dreams are crashing to craters below
The cosmetic intellectual ignores me
But smiles and praises those with similar feathers
When he makes lecture-room cosmetic factory
When he makes lecture-room a theater for minor surgeries
Of test-tube babies born with insufficient brains
I have no choice but to kneel down and pray for my country
Copyright © Solomon Ochwo-Oburu | Year Posted 2016
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