Little Man
Little man little problem
Confined in the box
Pleasure at his leisure
Quelling insatiable hunger
Gust of distrust
Intrusion of endless chatter
Never a dull moment
Yet the land is bad
The land is bad indeed
Day and night on wobbling legs
The hands stocked in pants
Lazily he slouches to bed
The day like a continuous train
Raining misery in cool temper
A trainer he stands to be
Prophesying the doom to come
What a mystery
Of what use was the boom
To his father without a certificate
The oil money is here
My children’s children would laugh
In absence of toil
In absence of work
Even Freetown would never
Give anything for free
There’s a price to pay
A challenge to conquer
Walking through the vile down the aisle
The sandpaper leaves you smooth and polished
Back to your dream
Absolute freedom polished
Unlike the little man’s.
Copyright © Opemipo Akinsoyinu | Year Posted 2010
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