This Night Or Tomorrow. Poem by David Oluwatobi Akinola

During the campaigns,
we heard many things,
but its been years now and we've seen practically nothing.
they spend hundreds of thousands, but claim to spend millions;
they claim to be servant [leaders],
but earn millions, while we share peanuts,
we see them on TV, playing with salamis,
while we hustle to soak garri;
they move around town, in heavily embroided clothes,
protruding bellies, high shoulders,
well air-conditioned jeeps and tight security,
while we plod, trot and run the street,
under rain and shine,
hawking goods to people like them.

then it came, they forgot we are masters,
and they are servants,
they cleared us of our streets, saying we were causing nuisance,
then they built a market,
and made the cost of renting a stall per anum,
the profit we'll make in two years

We are hungry, we are hungry! !
the children keep crying;
Nothing; no food at home,
their parents reply.
We are dying, we are dying! ! ,
where is he?
the philanthropist to help us out?
we are suffering, we are suffering, we keep lamenting,
but no one is listening,
who is listeing?
who cares to listen?
Until our demise,
we look up to the skies and ceilings,
pray for a miracle,
hope for a change,
that new era, where milk flow through our veins,
where the poor are not screwed because of the lavishes of the rich and the neglects of their leaders,
but when will this new era come? the children ask;
Tomorrow, their parents reply;
the next day comes, sunsets and the children ask again,
this night or tomorrow?
maybe this night, or tomorrow, their parents reply.
days come and go, weeks roll,
and parents continue to say- 'tomorrow',
tomorrow, tomorrow....

Now, every child is taught how to pray, hope and believe in today and tomorrow,
whenever sunsets and there's still nothing, they say- maybe this night, or tomorrow! !
maybe this night, or tomorrow! ! ... maybe this night, or tomorrow! ! ....