Shadows of pauperdom


niched to pins of pauperism
nails pierced to the band of life
behind and in front
all built on token rife of poverty

Povertometric standardised brief
pains of a heart filled to surpluses
where dogs are deemed humanly worthy
as they sleep on dream woven beds

as born for curses
and curses born for fate
billowing all in each sweat drop
is the gnawing of impoverishness

where can a cure be mined?
that I would excavate to galamsey whims
of curing this torn in flesh
which keeps shattering me down

nothing of a good fruit bears
as the day runs vigorously
and is encompassed by tiresomeness
of an uncurable disease of drenched poverty

The Village Thinker © 2014


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