To Our Promissor Leaders

Had we have enough but day This quagmire were no crime We would keep mum and forget which train To board to crush our multifarious pains You by the Atlantic Ocean’s sides Should we find: pulling away our plights Of tactlessness, backwardness and peacelessness Nay, you’ve hurled us into a river of helplessness! You should, if you please, jail us Till day your end would bail us! Our advanced adversity had grown Higher than Kilimanjaro, and the unknown; The advancement is as old as civil war Whilst black ate blacks’ flesh raw Three years after, the hungry guns fell But the advancement grows; even yet Which year at most shall our leaders fear? The aftermath of rendering our pockets bare? For never do we deserve this state! Nor should death strike us at a cheaper rate!