Adeboye Jesutofunmi Poet Elegy

Soul of the Destitute

SOUL OF THE DESTITUTE


     The soul bawls with the time
     The soul bawls with the season
     It's muteness comes from the countenance
     It's enrage comes from the expression
     The world is it's reason with no solution,
     The solution we have gives us the problem
     Where the Moses of the Israelites died with
     The hope of seeing the promise land
     The soul wail with the questions that;
     Why did the good die quickly and easily,
     While the nefarious last lengthy?
     The affluent are the money maker whose,
     Fountainhead is from the destitute.
      
     My soul bawls with the time
     My weak heart gets weaker with the clock of a,
     New season with no vision;
     With the splash from the opulent auto and hoping to
     Have good sit with the potentate 
     Believing that time would come while the soul bawls
     The ascent of the sun remind them of the further
     Dispute with sorrow from there mind while,
     The rich extol the supreme being for the luminous 
     Day with the hope to absorb corruption in the
     Consortium.

     Joy has no locus to lodge in the heart of the,
     Penniless with the bawl of the soul
     It journeys down to the opulent heart but, 
     Not welcomed with remorseful act of 
     Partaking in vices.
     Who will JOY live with?

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