Country men of country men
Our tears were your sweat
Our cry your manifestos
On our wretched farms of potatoes
From the corners of Accra to Soweto
You present your application for we the so called illiterates to vote you in the chambers of comfort
Butchers of toil

If only you could have seen through the eyes of our needy selves
You could have never served us with the option of short or long sleeves
Butchers of our pride on the table of bloody diamonds
If pearls lasted forever then you have a reason to pierce our heart through our skinny chest
But nothing that you greedy bastards shared on your butchers table last forever
What you kill for is like the morning sun
So bright
So beautiful
But last not for the whole day

Mr. Butcher
How much does our trust cost?
Is your cutlass sharp enough to cut at one strike?
If it cost my life then I will remain the last dog
I will remain the last dog who eats the fattest bones you drop out of abundance
And when my teeth are strong enough to crash diamonds into fragments
I will strike like the thunder of a curse
As fast as your cutlass deprived the nourishment of my muddy household

I shall strike
So feed me with anger
Power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely
Power intoxicate the great heads as wine does to the mind
I shall strike


4 thoughts on “Butchers

  1. wow, one of the purest poems I ever read. The essence and brain behind is complete great.
    One thing that strikes me is the courageous manner in which the poet expressed political deceit and power drunk and hungry leaders.
    Great piece worth sharing…,

  2. The assertive nature of this poem underpins the persona’s bid to relay a message worth reading. I totally enjoyed the allegorical nature of some of the lines and the issue(s) this masterpiece addressed. I wish all ‘bucthers’ could have a chance to be told this message

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