From Labour to Neighbour: A Metamorphosis
From the precinct tucked in Tejuoso Yaba
Gathered in generations of labour activists.
Some great brains trained in the defunct Soviet Union of old
Enigmatic soapbox orators giving hope to the unlearned.
Truth be told, some lived truly sacrificial
Tendency towards the masses fighting noble causes.
Yet many activists live with double standards
Of sainthood and vileness deceiving the gullible.
Then there came a call for political participation
Which is rightfully earned, and the turncoat starts manifesting.
Many were noted for simplicity in appearance and speech
Clad in symbolic khaki apparel, displaying obvious frugality.
Then the alluring lucre of political delicacies
Transform them beyond recognition, having tasted once the forbidding apple.
It is now less pretentious for our fighters of yore
Who brought us hope of a brighter future now teamed with our oppressors.
It was a metamorphosis of chanted aluta
To unashamed bourgeois stealing our commonwealth with glamour.
Who shall we trust again to fight for us?
When the doors are shut behind us and our representatives duly compromised.
( The Figure Man Who Loves Alphabets )
