Trampling On Tomorrow Poem by Chris Jibero

He who does nothing to check oppression
Cos it does not affect him directly
Is himself an oppressor
I can see a hurricane gathering
Worse than Katrina
Though mouths are padlocked with lucre
Hearts cowed by affluence flaunted
By a few
And limbs made feeble by hunger
Foisted on them by their rulers
In the midst of plenty

The way we go
I can see us falling headlong
Into a bottomless pit
Dug billions furlong
By our detractors so envious
Of our resources so enormous
And it will either swallow us
Or into fragments break us
Cos with haughty eyes
We swagger boisterously
In early morning drunkenness
Like a band of overfed blind vagabonds
Without a guide
Believing that we have arrived
Oblivious that we are wretched
And miserable, and poor
And blind, and naked
Dashing towards a holding hole
That won’t keep us one and whole
Like it was after the first time we fought

The way we go
As though there is no tomorrow
Scares me stiff
As danger beckons at us
For an exhaustive self-destruct
For I can see a looming deluge
In dark ominous clouds convoking
Over our swollen heads
Waiting to dropp vases of peppery tears
Unto our unabashed faces

The way we go
Consuming every available green
Like a swarm of locusts
Harbingers of dearth
Nay termites devouring sweet, soft wood
Unmindful of posterity
That could smear our remembrance
With slime and tar
In revulsion and hate

The way we go
Gives me jitters
For we saunter like a band of pilgrims
Who have forgotten their place of departure
And their destination
Moving as though rainy days are over
Stopping often to engage in a stunning scramble
Stuffing our mouths with both hands
And draining the wells on our way
Burning our barns and filling our reservoirs

The way we go
Bothers me badly cos
We have snatched with our right hands
Yet remain hungry
Eaten with our left hands
Still stay unsatisfied
And now setting out to devour our flesh
Like tasty bread
In a rabid rage of greed
That will leave us torn apart and desolate

The way we go
Trampling on tomorrow
Labels us uncaring parents
Excellencies and honorables
Wielding much power that mar
Sharing and consuming common wealth
And eating our bread and that of our kids
Feeding on the backs of the masses
Our cooks, our stewards and our tables
Enduring in service with bellowing bellies
Waiting patiently for scarce crumbs
Reserved for our pampered dogs.