"If I may be frank, this poem
is a mouse bite to the politicians in Lagos state and others across the
Geo-political states of Nigeria. Typically satirically on our people who
have their eyes to see but not seeing, and have their brains to think
but beclouded with all the fantasies of the beautiful arena they live
in and the tokens they are getting. Well, I pray that people can see the
way you can see, and think the way a sensible person can reason the way
you and I pity for the darkness of this great country, and as you say:
They waste their money/their time,their lives wasting away/And funeral
parties of their fallen kinsmen. Though, this borne down to those who
spend money on unnecessary things instead of investing their money on
very useful things that will add value to their existence, still I can
figure it out that this poem goes beyond a single mindset and spreads its
tentacles to all classes of people living in this country: they are
upper, middle and lower/down trodden."...Salami Adewale
" The true bitter story behind this poem while writing was actually how our so called fathers year in, year out waste away our (their children)'s futures till they breathe their last without shame or remorse as they go on wasting their money or wealth on only transient things . I am very particular about the Awori People/
They waste their money....
Did you say they are so penniless
They cannot afford a bottle of honey?
No! They were the most affluent,
But they waste their money.
Did I hear they are so helpless
They cannot feed their concubines?
No! They were the wealthiest,
But they waste their money.
Are they really indigent
Their children cannot go to school?
No! They were the richest,
But they waste their money.
They claim they own this Lagoon
And yet treated like strangers.
But No! They were the most influential,
Only that they care not and waste their money.
Can I ever believe they are so crippled
Their bad roads failed all repairs?
No! They always look on, wasting their money,
And wait for Aso-Rock to mend.
Ah! Are they really pauperized
They can’t ever trade themselves out of darkness?
“Oh Yes…Alausa knows our plight!”
That is what they are waiting for.
Deadly flood threatens to plague their lives,
Yet, they sit on the fence,
Wasting their money
And blame their chairmen.
Their glittering sky-scrapers
Are surrounded by slummy ghettos,
Yet, they are so indifferent, wasting their money,
And cry foul of T-I-N-U-U-B-U!
Waite a minute! Are they really bad?
Maybe (not)! But they sell and resell their lands,
And must claim (Omo-Onile) dues,
Completely lost to the lyrical tunes of their local poets.
On those senseless murderous affairs,
They waste their money.
Wines, women, pursuit of night-clubs,
And funeral parties of their fallen kinsmen.
They go on wasting their money,
Their time, their lives wasting away,
Their status fading…
Yet, they never woke up,
From this gain-less extravagant slumber…
----by Adeola Goloba
©golobathepoet
"This poem appraised our society critically,in particular,the modern African people who are delighted in spending recklessly in the name of showing off their arrival.The pitiable condition I am experiencing now is that the concerned people in your poetic talking drums is that the drum is drumming to the deaf who are in the authorities/governments/
"Bard Goloba, without a modicum of doubt, your polemical versification of the apostles of ‘Lagos for show’ is as apposite as the sunset. Clinically dissected and empirically construed. The sons and daughters of the wild perforate sacred injunctions to honour the dead and the living with gluttonous lifestyles of feral parties to the detriment of their home front. The parties must go on while the mealtime lasts and their dingy hovels is a testament to a wretched mindset. You portrayed through your transparent lens, vividly capturing the crevices of Lagos megalopolis. My literary crusader, your steamy lines affirm your profound depth!! More fire, more fire!!!"...Onuchi Mark Onoruoiza
"Goloba da Poet... I raise a glass and give a thumbs up to another piece of literary craftmanship. A piece of genius cum socio-economic masterstroke addressing pitfalls in our daylight reality. Can't be better put... as always the NOBELs beckons."...Seth Ogungbe
" The true bitter story behind this poem while writing was actually how our so called fathers year in, year out waste away our (their children)'s futures till they breathe their last without shame or remorse as they go on wasting their money or wealth on only transient things . I am very particular about the Awori People/
 |
| ...Completely lost to the lyrical tunes of their local poets. |
They waste their money....
Did you say they are so penniless
They cannot afford a bottle of honey?
No! They were the most affluent,
But they waste their money.
Did I hear they are so helpless
They cannot feed their concubines?
No! They were the wealthiest,
But they waste their money.
Are they really indigent
Their children cannot go to school?
No! They were the richest,
But they waste their money.
They claim they own this Lagoon
And yet treated like strangers.
But No! They were the most influential,
Only that they care not and waste their money.
Can I ever believe they are so crippled
Their bad roads failed all repairs?
No! They always look on, wasting their money,
And wait for Aso-Rock to mend.
Ah! Are they really pauperized
They can’t ever trade themselves out of darkness?
“Oh Yes…Alausa knows our plight!”
That is what they are waiting for.
Deadly flood threatens to plague their lives,
Yet, they sit on the fence,
Wasting their money
And blame their chairmen.
Their glittering sky-scrapers
Are surrounded by slummy ghettos,
Yet, they are so indifferent, wasting their money,
And cry foul of T-I-N-U-U-B-U!
Waite a minute! Are they really bad?
Maybe (not)! But they sell and resell their lands,
And must claim (Omo-Onile) dues,
Completely lost to the lyrical tunes of their local poets.
On those senseless murderous affairs,
They waste their money.
Wines, women, pursuit of night-clubs,
And funeral parties of their fallen kinsmen.
They go on wasting their money,
Their time, their lives wasting away,
Their status fading…
Yet, they never woke up,
From this gain-less extravagant slumber…
----by Adeola Goloba
©golobathepoet
"This poem appraised our society critically,in particular,the modern African people who are delighted in spending recklessly in the name of showing off their arrival.The pitiable condition I am experiencing now is that the concerned people in your poetic talking drums is that the drum is drumming to the deaf who are in the authorities/governments/
"Bard Goloba, without a modicum of doubt, your polemical versification of the apostles of ‘Lagos for show’ is as apposite as the sunset. Clinically dissected and empirically construed. The sons and daughters of the wild perforate sacred injunctions to honour the dead and the living with gluttonous lifestyles of feral parties to the detriment of their home front. The parties must go on while the mealtime lasts and their dingy hovels is a testament to a wretched mindset. You portrayed through your transparent lens, vividly capturing the crevices of Lagos megalopolis. My literary crusader, your steamy lines affirm your profound depth!! More fire, more fire!!!"...Onuchi Mark Onoruoiza
"Goloba da Poet... I raise a glass and give a thumbs up to another piece of literary craftmanship. A piece of genius cum socio-economic masterstroke addressing pitfalls in our daylight reality. Can't be better put... as always the NOBELs beckons."...Seth Ogungbe
