Poetry: The Poor Migrant.

By David Gerald Turner……

I feel an outrage
Society turning me into a savage.
Temple run could be the last straw to clutch onto.
Graduated with excellent degree, yes I am shrewd,
Alas! The system makes me a pauper.
Traveling and nosing for better jobs with all the quality papers.
I cried!
Where have I gone wrong?
For my body is drenched in pain! I am no more strong.

Scaling through unconventional means for survival
The rich sit in the corridors of upheaval.
We wait for the next change
While square pegs in round holes take turns at each break.

The locksmith gave us education as the key
But no door has welcomed the print of my feet.
Unemployment is more infectious than disease;
A cold war that holds many in defeat.

Those who dance to the ballad of partisan politics understand the tune to their rhythmic steps
Our high spirited hopes languish in ocean’s deep.
Irresistible is the inner knock of regret.

I am a sojourner in this lonely road of madness,
Constructed by the fresh hands of crooked bandits,
Whose never ending thirst for unentitled wealth
has drained the patriot marrow within my bones.

The road is lonely, but I am not alone,
Countrymen of shared plight and mutual distrust
explore the wilderness in search of heavens’ gifts,
An exploration too cold for any mother’s son,
But that’s how it is “dong to me en me neba dem.”

When will I ever get a catch at one’s straw
When those at the table won’t mind to munch it raw!?
Admonish my mind with the voices of my mother.
Dependents are my siblings with great expectations
Sigh…
*”R know how r lef ose”*

We applaud society’s foolishness at the expense of our spilt milk,
Whilst certified youth languish in poverty,
As we ponder over unanswered questions
In soliloquy.

To some who we would have
Say are feathers in one’s cap
Has used it to tickle their ears
Looking at us in the eyes with total disdain.

Copyright: David Gerald Turner AKA Pa Turner Ihn Pikin

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