When billionaires are made

When billionaires are made
Government erased the traces of their dealings
Those who become are kept into the bunker
And the white papers of their dealings
Is embalmed and erased by the glut of ashes
Those afar will start shouting fire, fire, fire
The billionaire rides in his tainted Benz smiling
Puffing cigatta just like the Colombian
When billionaires are made
The building holding the office’s paid the price
Watch a low-key billionaire will soon donate
In anonymous name to hide the carcass
For its repair, an enchanting clap from the power
That be… Watch don’t say I told you but I told you
I use to be a billionaire it is my confession
When the billionaire drives in with a smile
Their is a cockroaches bland with broken legs
He is looking for shenanigans to mend his legs
A lobbyist that earns his nuts professionally
They’re among us holding the algorithm of sanitizer
Low profiling themselves, and bribing through probe panel
Committee these men will find nothing as their findings
but these findings will sleep in the cupboard
The making of the billionaire is poised
By threat, respect and shameless favour
When billionaires are made
Government erased the traces of their dealings
(c) Martin Ijir 2020

Fifty nine inches grave

Fifty nine years of baking a bread
fifty nine years of searching for bed
linking roof, sheathed with naked fire.

Poverty, banditry and corruption’s clip
fifty nine inches grave of bad leadership
and blind misaligned themselves as followership.

Yesterday, i was chased by ghost of feudalist
foolishly, i ran inebriatably to the door of an animalist
he drown me with axe onto the grave of fifty nine inches.

Life is hardwired by spokes of division
cursing plague of wild and mild depression
yeast of suffering in joy intoxicates than kunu zaki.

I wonder when fifty nine tides of flimsy lies
will be sieved, calmed and distilled into truthful progress
while pragmatic, social materials solidifies all to smiles.
(c) Martin Ijir 2019

Seized tears

These blizzards wreak the songs of togetherness
through the night all sounds are unheard
but the songs of the razing fire thatch I felt
the noise of the striking axes passing through deathless
spirits, bumping flies that missed their path
I can hear the songs of agony,
render by their sleeping spirit
beclouding the lids of my eyes, my hands
shivers as a stroke of canvass spited on my heart,
an unbearable cloud passing its enchanting chasm
so much pain, seized tears paints the picture of my frame.
(c) 2020 Martin Ijir

ALL LIVES MATTER

When they shot us from the back
They taught they will paint us white
When they rob us of humanity dignity
They taught we are still slave
As they segregate our mind from theirs
We are still black we can never be white
For love of humanity wears our soul
As we rises as dark nimbus in the sky
we show our creativity with nonviolence
We shall revolt their raunchy behaviour
For love and peace we bring
Our feets shall walk for justice course
Till their injustice fades as dew on grasses
The clock for new resistance has come
It has awakened souls that are resting
in the graveyard of silence
It has occupied our sleeping hearts
As cymbals and thudding trumpets
We will echo truth for humanities course
When the kill #Stephon Clark, they
lit the fire that ocean of waters
Can’t quench, mortals live matters.
(c) Amb Martin Ijir 2018