our masters

They are the masters. The ones who decide our fate, for our fate had never been ours to decide.
They decide if we move forward or backward. They are God’s spokesmen and some even claim to be like God.
They feed on our differences and cause great pandemonium
They eat and drink as they like, while we sit legs crossed on the floor racking our brains on what to eat to survive.
Throwing parties, they do without difficulty. But they wouldn’t let us eat the crumbs under their table.
These masters. Our masters, own houses and cars. While we live on the streets and at the top of eachother.
They suffer a disease called ‘Big Man syndrome’. It’s only cure is poverty and so to stay healthy, they say Rich.
They have the power to steal and destroy. They killed Mama Bisi’s daughter in one of their political rituals
Their houses are fortified and are more secure than our maximum prison
We dare not near the perimeters of their fortress.
It is them and Us. They matter, we don’t for we are mere men. Common man.
They’ve eaten up the national cake and are still fighting for the crumbs
Our masters will die in power because dying out of power is impossible.
Their generations unborn own fates more secure than ours.
They of course, are the leaders of tomorrow, while our own children become nuisances to the society.
Our masters do not have souls. Mama calls them mad. I think they are power drunk.
They promise us one thing today, and sprint away from their promises another day.
Our masters came after our oppressor, but our masters are worse than the former.
They, like the Knights of the round table sit and play us like the game of chess in rounds.
They are our masters and our gods. Our job is to work for them and worship them.

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4 thoughts on “our masters

  1. Our master, you dey gbadun oh
    If your body touch Omoge
    She go get belle.

    Hahahaha

    I couldn’t help it, I’m not sorry.

    This wasn’t as passionate as I expected it to be.
    We know these things.
    I expected Mama Bisi’s voice of lament, instead I heard a commentator’s voice (Channels News – like).

    I had to be a jerk, I’m sorry.

    Kuushe.

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