Weeds Poem by John Collins Areyayefa

Those weeds at my country side
Has coined our nutrient
The rodent that chew our sagging cob
And the pest in the field
Competing leftovers of shattered grain

Those weed, slaves of greed
That we could not control
Whose poisonous handshakes, melts our feed
And stunt our growth
Feeding dust to our plants
Those plants that should build our harvest.

This harvest now bleak
Bleak from the poison of those we should birth at Asylum
They’ve shown no mercy with their embezzled tongues.
And we have yet fed on dust
But shall we grow firm, and gutter them out
Our pleading lips.
John Collins Areyayefa