As our small buttocks found it way to Iya sukuriat bench.
Our stomach grumbled to the hunger her soup can only quench.
Aisha, Ada, Bolu, our girls, now fuck without discretion.
Pardon our vulgar words, they are just for expression.
Olamide, uche, our boys, now wire the money without stress.
Where the fuck is baba landlord? We need to to pay him first.
Gladness crept into our hearts, seeing our girls pregnant.
Baba landlord, never knew he had fraudsters as tenant.
My haggard steps were guided by the stench of weed.
A victim of secondary smoking was I forced to be.
The muffled shouts of the raging cult battles.
Brought only fear and uncertainty to our dear houses.
The ever friendly ladi-lak junction.
A minute there, and you could lose your crop top.
Half naked kids, beautiful shanties, hopeless smokers
Ilaje, had every bit of these in a reasonable quota.
As an education expert that understands the pedagogical and andragogical concepts of education. It pains me when I see or hear how much the government of the day allocates for the education sector. This has consequently led to the dilapidated state of the educational system and also causing rippling effects on the society.
This effects are visible on the life's of young Nigerians who believe internet related fraudulent activities and modernised prostitution( escort services) are the easiest and fastest way to climb up the social ladder. This recent trends have been so disturbing, pushing me to the extent of carrying out a research on this youngsters, though the research is still ongoing. The responses gotten so far inspired me to write down this satirical poem.
