Same People- By Okoemu Barnabas Poem by Okoemu Barnabas

Different faces
The same mind.
Upon the mountain all have been to fetch the sweet milk for the lame
None, not even one has ever gone there and thinks of the lame!

This man and that man,
Yes, they are the same man; same people
Bent on hurting even the blind,
Poor before climbing, but richest after, and never down; come

I hear one blast another
And another accused the other, and another criticised the other
Truly, all lack moral right to speak for or against another,
Leave it for us, we can blast-criticise-lambast-accuse!

Who has ever been there and has never cheated on our mother?
Swear by the grave of your father!
Swear that your mind; even now, thinks of the lame.

Then why do we run after the butterfly who have the eagle's colour?
For some notes, we slaughter ourselves,
For a sack of rice, we curse our father
For mere t-shirt, we are fight each other

Different faces, same mind,
Goes inside their enclaves and laughs at us, our foolishness

Their cheeks pumping day-in-day, and ours dried, still and in hotness of the sun, we queue and clap and cheer for them

Without a progress seen
And our sight shaded with shabby rags,
Then we see faintly and jump in joy,

Unfortunately,
After four years, we realise, but very too late,
And in another way, they come.

None is good!
Same people
Only projects of their own is seen
For the poor's is cast out, and again we see theirs and merry
Like one who ejeculate for a couple who slept in the room,

We are glad upon progress, that to us, never hands reach.

Climbing stages
And increasing the rage
Poking finger to the others, and in negative, lambast.

Forfeiting the idea of campaign,
Turning it into a theatre of words war
Threats upon threats
And no manifestos seen

Yet again
Upon another sorrowful four years, our body rest, there is a problem and it solution is with us all

Hunger and thirst,
Denied us the truth
What can you do,
When you have no water to drink, and you see one who offer you
If in return, your finger is demanded, what?

Left in abject poverty and visited once when needed, but always needed only to be ignore and upon hell, there is gladness,
So far, not dead.

Better to die and in the grave a free man be, than, live and live as a slave!

None is qualify
Different faces, same mind
All is guilty.