he mineral deposits in the bowl of our earth,
instead of being a blessing for all,
have turned into a course,
our desires into misery,
and our hopes, a sadness of a bride
in the absence of the bridegroom,
bringing forth soft tears
that moisten our groaned eyes
without healing the layers of pain
from our shattered dreams.
Observe the signs of time,
you will see that the ugly events
have overran reason and discretion,
and reactions thrown into an opposite extreme
as we grope our way through the dim path before us,
watching as the depressing situation
ride the waves of the misty orb.
Our antennae of wisdom is broken
at the crossroad of brilliant avenue
where red light beams and green light
confined to indefinite siesta,
our imperfect knowledge and limited vision
unable to find answers to the quagmire
that occur in successive bewilderment -
as one sad event is overthrown
by a sadder one.
Exploiting the sorry situation,
legions of religious entrepreneurship,
and fake physicians of the soul,
wearing the toga of the sophists
have emptied the wallets
of our vulnerable and gullible citizens
who reject the truth with a stench
and succumb to the eloquent sophistry
of deodorized lies,
unable to see beyond the smoky facade of the truth.
They have remained stagnant
in the limitation of their disappointments,
in the prevailing economic permutation.
Suicide, unheard of, in the annals of our culture,
has become a daily trend.
Tuffiakwa is not a slang,
but an expression of disapproval
that should be chorused in bass.