December, births us merriment
A unique festival of the moment
When Families and friends, reunited
Love and Gratitude’s spark is ignited.

Somehow, the season’s vibes are marred
Like getting a litre of fuel is hard
For fuel, serpentine lines somewhere
Searching, our fuel is nowhere.

In the scorching sun we queue
Waiting for some litres of fuel
In the dusty harmattan we view
Searching for black market to fill.

Jollof Rice’s money, fuel ate
Toil over toil, the plebs feel
Money for fuel, black market ate
Where is our fuel?

Politicians with hearts of stone
Men whose conscience is gone!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s