The Hard Life

This is dedicated to everybody around the world facing hard times, most especially in Africa in those dark corners I’ve never been to. I can only imagine…

The jailer condescendingly asked why I did what I did
Does he know what it feels like,
Waking up with no food on one’s table?
With no corn nor yam in the barn
And no time to check your time
You sweat for every nickel and dime
This is the hard life that breeds a dangerous world.

The difficulty in the streets I’ve seen is great
It has changed many destinies
Same hustle that made Wacko Jacko white,
Turned a young whizkid to a DJ Whookid
Shame on our politicians for leading us astray
Several decades after independence
Colonial policies still thrive here

The jailer asked again what I did
Truth is I don’t even know what I did
Never been to trial but jailed anyway
For who is to stand for me, a nobody like me?
The law here is what the sovereign calls it
As Odia Ofiemun rightfully posits,
We’re those who have no grace to fall from.

There was a time when we all flourished
When the ground was cultivated for cash & food crops
How did we get here now?
Our farmlands now barracks and refineries
The funds from oil get to only a few
When grown men can’t live as they like
Then aren’t they imprisoned already?
Such hard life Blue’s dad talked about.

Please follow me on twitter @tom_olas

Please follow me on twitter @tom_olas

Please follow me on twitter @tom_olas


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