“`What is sweet is good
if it is not sweetening salt
in the mouth of the snail.
Yet, they have not tasted it only;
like a drunk lost in the drains,
planted themselves in this wealth
The truthfulness of each soul is strangled
with a little more desire for sceptre,
for thrones and bronze;
nay, even the sky is the wish,
and the gold of the sun to be crown.
In the affection for power,
like a man whose groins are lost
to the sensuous fingers of a slim maiden,
their minds are sold to lust,
to wretchedness and dust.
They have not a truth again,
not anymore than life exists on the Titanic;
and they are blown away sooner
than a dust on a windy Sahara.
When we saw the saint in them,
We all give them our mandates
To hold and save-guard.
But the sweet honey in power
Transformed them to cunning vipers
Who issed to corner their preys.
Time after time,
They make merry in lotted funds,
Weighing their pockets on the beams offshore,
And smile many fake smiles.“`
_Adelere Adesina & Scoufi_