My pen is healthy and wealthy
My pen and my purse
are two separate instruments,
Even an eraser
can’t clear off their difference;
Even a magnet
can’t compact their two ends,
My pen is healthy and wealthy,
My purse does beg
but my pen is stingy.
Readers are supposed –to us– be leaders,
I’ve read a million
yet I’ve got no tell me,
The most leaders I’ve seen,
it’s only bills at the Houses they read,
That you are seeing my words,
could be better than seeing my face,
For, my pen is pretty
and words are cute;
If men see my garments, their praises could mute.
Is my endless sadness and grief;
And starving days without relief;
And my truthfulness without belief;
not enough to show that the world deceives?
Has my poorness and incessant tears;
And wandering at the market carrying wares;
In torn and worn clothing
far from my peers’;
not enough to show that my people are monkeys,
who treat rich delicacies like junkies?
Who shall beseech –for me– my pen?
So it shall lend my purse a tell me or ten,
That I might be counted among living men,
That they shall agree I lived, and not be asked ‘when?’
Who shall advise –for me– my ink?
That it might make my blind purse blink,
With what could make the thoughtless think,
And riches that could made the weightless sink.
The wisdom of Solomon;
The patience of Job;
Eloquence of Shakespeare;
Creativity of Bob;
If a man is blessed with all– like me
And yet, he still begs to eat,
If he’s placed on an auction,
I won’t be bid for even a Kobo.
Writer: MUHAMMAD, SOBUR SHINAOLA