POEMS READ AT LOUDTHOTZ POETRY OPEN READING SEASON 13 EPISODE 4 - GREED

 

WINNER POEM OF THE MONTH

LIMITLESS SKIES – POEM OF THE MONTH

You may choose not to agree or see

The thin line between need and greed

You may think its mean

To consider needs as greed

Or the needy greedy

But it is somewhat tough

To know when it's enough

To know when to stop

When to hop on to the train of contentment

And leave the basement

That fine moment

You realize

You already have the prize

It's not about being frugal

Or placing straw on a camel

But at that moment

Needs dwindle

Dangling carrots get ignored

There's suddenly a limit to more

Debits become credits

Baskets become buckets

Cracked eggs make omelets

Rags get turned into puppets 

To see the thin line between need and greed

First picture how some seeds 

Birth weeds.

 

 

Erhio

 

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THESE CREEDS OF MEN

The unborn thoughts threaten our sanity

The air is thick with them

All the senses feel the tension

Every opportunity shows its fruit

As we plunge ever deeper into normalizing insanity

 

These creeds of men

Made by men

For men and their vices

They affirm it is in His honour

And lead only to Him

To give credence to their authority

 

The creed of men chose the thief

Their kind over the innocent

And still do the same today

The form changes

They change their cloak

They think they are wiser

As they head south

 

In creeds vast desert

There will always be an oasis

 

Ifeanyi Okwosha     

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*HUMANE HYPOCRISY*

A menace, a spiritual disaster.

Which human dwells in.

It is above conquest they say,

while it depletes humanity.

 

Fallen nations, Innocent deaths,

as a human find satisfaction

in his brother's asset.

Meanwhile, he has got millions of it.

 

Brothers of Joseph,

of the same blood and gene,

forsook their genuiness,

and embraced greed as a companion.

 

Actions birth reactions.

Greed birth conflicts with no resolutions.

A rich man in a mansion,

killed his poor friend over a land.

 

It is a form of passion,

as it drives its host crazy.

He drives hard to satisfy

the intuitions of the devil in the guise of exuberance.

 

Its cure sinks into Earth every second,

as humans fail to recognize its significance.

Even when they claim to have search its four poles

to no avail. Humane hypocrisy; a stale tale.

 

–JesusOfLagos

Akanle Jesus Abdullah

 

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BANDAGE 

I'm a man with damaged soul 

Breathing with a worse heart

Like old furniture 

Bless with the clearest biggest eye 

And unable to see the world 

When I have sealed in life prison 

Like caging birds 

 

Tapeworm termites and invisible wicked insects 

Were turning my body to their perfect home like Rome 

And bones to playing toy 

As the stunning moon insisted to frying me like suyar meat 

Life too playing me like soccer football 

 

Pundit

Yusuf Adisa

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LETTER TO MY FELLOW BLUE BUTTERFLIES

 this poem is water; 

an open letter

to the fellow blue butterflies

that fly on my head.

it's a letter; a poem

that soliloquies, &

reads the notes on our grief. 

dear fellow chained blue butterflies,

i read in the book

written by the fingers

of our grandfathers

that all the boys 

in our city were meant

to write memoirs;

memoirs on how they

enjoyed the wind

of our fatherland. but here 

we're, reading the red notes

that resemble my father's blood. 

& i asked the standing moon

of our galvanized homes. i asked 

the gallivanting sun on the men

who swallowed our land. all silent, 

afraid of being taken by rough

men. & the fearless stars

escaped the imminent sky

and said motherland’s eaten 

by the men we hanker to 

have our heads touched

by their cruel hands. 

dear pained fellow blue butterflies, 

it's now the beginning of the end;

the drum’s to be beaten, again.

remember, it's our fingerprints

that can give them another breath

that might rain us an acid rain, again.

Salim Yakubu Akko

 

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GREED

 

Saw a mad man smiling today,

There was a swagger about his feet’s,

He must have found treasure.

 

What kind of treasure?

An hidden buffet?

In cellophane bags

His treasure unfolds 

 

Grey headed bread,

Crippled sardines,

Lazy fruits 

Stuffs 

 

Saw a normal man today.

There was a drag on his step

Two daughters, Side by side 

He must have lost treasure

 

What kind of treasure?

A bundle of fame?

In cellophane bags,

His treasure missing 

 

Leaves from trees

trees called banks 

Can’t take note

Currency’s fool 

 

Blind to podium,

Olympic stands,

Of both treasures

by his side

 

Who is really 

really Mad?

 

 

AlexDeScribe 

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GREED

She is that woman in charge

Serving party jollof and meat

"Yes it's finished" she yells

But goes home with a black nylon

Enough to feed a community.

 

She is that woman in black

Soaking in loud tears for the loss

"He was such a good man" she cries

But reddens her lips with his blood

To amass  wealth, she killed him.

 

She is that woman in the office

Sitting in the heart of the governor

"You'll be richer" she whispers

Projects undone; hospitals dilapidated

Corruption blew a kiss to embezzlement.

 

She's that woman in church

Watching over the tithes and offerings

"Falsify figures" she suggests

Even God, Himself understands this

You eat from where you work.

Esther Okekwuo (REHTSE)

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GREED:

 

Pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath and sloth, these seven in addition to their close cousins, sadness and vainglory.

 

But the one under consideration is greed.

 

A thing which drove Marlowe's Faustus, amidst all the confusions and contusions of life, learning and literature.

 

A subset of which is, making many endless books, which weigh down the psyche and the collective unconscious.

 

A doctrine of good greed as propounded by the Gekko of Wall Street and Ayn Rand's Virtuous Selfishness, which results in isolation and suicide for the rich and envy and murder for the poor.

 

At least, Dostoyevsky's peroration in the Brothers Karamazov drives that belief.

 

Greed is good by some reckoning, because it can serve some beneficial purpose in the context of motivation and inspiration;

 

making the push for better, bigger and faster  social and economic outcomes.

 than they have.

 

But greed is not good.

It is tripled with avarice and lusty epithumia.

 

Altruism is better, but has little or no sex appeal; no drive, no oomph nor charisma.

 

Declare your Jihad on greed and all it's relatives, seen and unseen, and then you can fully unleash all of your light, if I understand all that Al Ghazali is saying.

 

Greed is a torrent which overturns the good of life and derails the trains of advancement and development.

 

ANDREW WHYTE

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MEN DO CRY

 

Men do cry

For I know what the eyes of a father

Looks like

When they see

The shallow graves

Of their sons

Dug by greed

Greed is a lazy worker

With sparkling lights

And flurry sounds

But often dies before

The lights shine the brightest

Greed strips a man

Make him stretch out his hands like palm fronds

Swaying to every stranger

Gaunt eyes like the eyes of poverty

Non-descript

Empty

 

Chisom