(POEM OF THE DAY) "In the Land of Oil and Dust"
In the land where rivers curl like snakes, And golden oil runs deep through lakes, A mansion rises, proud and wide, While beggars sleep where gutters hide. Their laughter echoes, rich and clear, Over the cries they do not hear. They dine on gold with foreign wine, As children suck on air for brine.
They steal with pens and wear a cross, Preaching mercy, counting loss Not of souls, but stolen bread, While schools decay and roads play dead. Oga drives by in tinted grace, With guards to shield his wicked face. He built a church on stolen ground, Where justice died without a sound.
A mother weeps, her child is gone No clinic, nurse, or early dawn. But on the hill, a party sways, A billion spent in just three days. They own the courts, they buy the law, They crush the weak without a flaw. The poor are tools, just votes to buy, Then tossed aside to rot and die.
The market shakes with hungry feet, No meat, no hope, just dust and heat. Yet in Aso and Banana's crest, They host the devil as their guest. But still, the soil remembers all The blood, the tears, the silent call. One day, the wind will turn its path, And sweep away their throne of wrath. So let them laugh and mock and steal, Their curses fatten every meal. The poor may bend, but not for long The storm is near. And it is strong.
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