TEGA
He is TEGA,
Magna cum
laude he tops
Tenacious as
a bull dog
CFO - he is
of a fortune-500
Toast at 8
in the morn, loyal he sits
Yet he
totters dangerously through the twilight of Lagos slums.
Yesterday, a
mayor
A prisoner
of the future
Bound by the
sturdy chains of retrenchment
In voiceless
decibels comes his shrills
Still he bleeds
for earns meet
while wages
and meat never quite agree.
With his
sweat-soaked body and tired eyes
He, wanders
down the pedestrian bridge
In the face
of his crystal reality
The wounds
to his soul attest
His body
falls flaccid and lame.
Will I ever
see these lean days through?
He broods,
Maami is gone
Papa is a
lost cause
He roams in
hazy speed to a house without a lover
Or a
companion to bare the soul.
As he walks
up the bridge as before
Him versus
the throng of living mannequins
Walking
(working) against his frail self.
“These beings”
he sighs
Do they not
see me?
Do they not
feel me?
…in forlorn he
cries out faintly
To a dotty indifferent
world.