AGBERO
Ineke BSC@bethelineke908201
7 days ago
#Poetry
Agbero are people like you and me—
mouths unfilled,
hands rehearsed in reaching,
eyes trained
on another man’s pocket.
They are the conductors
who laughed at books,
who chose noise over wisdom,
and now patrol the streets
collecting respect by force.
They are the idle youth,
hired throats of every season,
quick to praise rot
for a plate of rice,
quick to trade tomorrow
for crumbs.
They crowd around power;
political errand men,
bending truth into slogans,
dancing before thieves,
calling chains loyalty.
Some rise higher:
rulers who hate the work of ruling,
architects of promises
built on sand,
men who remember the poor
only when ballots wake.
Then they disappear
behind sirens,
behind convoys,
behind tinted glass.
Agbero wear uniforms too.
They turn checkpoints into markets,
stretch palms through windows,
taxing fatigue,
pricing mercy by the roadside.
They respect neither age nor hunger.
The old are delayed.
The weak are mocked.
The poor are searched
for coins they do not have.
They live in homes as well;
kinsmen swollen with entitlement,
waiting for harvest
from fields they never cleared,
demanding portions
from sacrifices they never shared.
They fill churches, markets, offices,
palaces and unions;
wherever greed learns manners,
wherever shame is profitable,
wherever conscience starves.
Yet not all is lost.
For every hand that extorts,
another can lift.
For every tongue hired to lie,
another can speak plain truth.
The streets are crowded with agbero.
But nations are rebuilt
by those who refuse
to become one.
© INEKE BSC
6 days ago
6 days ago
