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(Poet & Novelist)

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IN A NUTSHELL
Following the inauguration of Nelson Mandela in 1994, Selina and her little Jedidiah fled the country for the Dutchman had realized their contradicting identity. An old man found them in Dar es Salaam, a port city on the eastern shores of Africa. All aboard City of Smokes Timeship, they left Africa on December 25, 1995; a Christmas day in some people’s calendar. They left for the Blue Olympus Cape and landed there on the thirtieth day of October, the year two thousands and forty five and they lived there for a couple of decades in the outskirts of Taugamma, an industrial province south of Pink Shadow mostly mushroomed with shanty maisonnettes and other low life shacks.
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 BONES FOR THE POOR

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Jo Africa
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Age : 32
Posts : 127
Points : 2680
Work : English Teacher

PostSubject: BONES FOR THE POOR   Sun Apr 29, 2018 12:26 pm

Bones for poor, flesh for rich
Take your water, I'm not a fish
Don't forget this in your speech
I'm still a poor man.

They say we have many parks, 
They say we have many trees, 
They say we have many mines, 
I'm still a poor man.

Children are sitting on stones, 
Neither chair nor desk in schools, 
And you promise better life, 
I'm still a poor man.

In the North is Afro top, 
In the East Erythraean Sea, 
Inland we have many lakes, 
I'm still a poor man.

Graduates don't have a job, 
In the office all your friends, 
And you want my vote again, 
I'm still a poor man.

Marijuana is what you see, 
But CORRUPTION down your feet, 
In the school they're selling names, 
I'm still a poor man. 
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BONES FOR THE POOR
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