Hard Times Poem by Pheko Motaung

My children are staring hunger in the face
They're cursed be the hewers and the sewers of wood
For the rest of their doomed lives
They call any man who throws crumbs at them dad
They run with the wrong crowd and they don't respect me
The devils have left the ovens of hell and the hard times have decided
To be the permanent sojourners of my house of hunger

My wife has three lovers
One of them is the proud owner of a sleek Ferrari
She says he is her minister of transport
And he has bedded her in the five star hotels I dare not think about
Mister Number Two is rich he can corrupt the soul of any politician
My Suzie calls him her minister of finance
She has ordered me to hide under the bed when he's around

My friends
You must see my broken ribs and my torn lips
You must not mess with my wife's young lover
Be prepared to pay the medical bills if you still care about me
Hard times mama
They have left the recession of the poor neighborhoods to humiliate me

The boss is so inflexible you can plough the Sahara with him
He has imposed the No Work No Pay statute of the unjust law book on me
This is the non negotiable of non negotiables rule that applies to me alone
Mine are the worst working conditions you'll find in this world, Sir
Hard times my Lord-
They're the ruin of me

Hard times
The hard times
The hard times they were there
In the hour of my difficult birth
These hard times killed my mama and my papa
The hard times have have ruined my marriage
Hard times are my children's sole inheritance
The hard times they alone are responsible
For my untimely demise