A TRAIN OF SQUALOR
A train it is! Yes, a moving train
A train at the centre of the heart of a turbulent city
Humming and booming with smokes not black but burnt
Carrying the toilers, the labored, the sick, and the disillusioned beleaguered
Jam-packed like rags obsolete
Body complexion unbalanced like those of my grandfather’s chameleons
Sick in the head, sick in the mind, sick in the body but strong in the eyes
A moving train it is! Accommodating on the outside than the inside
Cheap enough to lock up worries of the mighty cash
The conveyed on the outside are properly seated on it
Seated and stronger than the incorrigible noise
With their burnt hands rolling up the lighters
Smoking away anguish and a frustration that seems inherent
In a glimpse, you know their unending plights,
Bones not at ease in those dirty mats called cloths
Lives geared towards a labor in restless endlessness


They all leave in the cold, early morning,
Running helter skelter to leave by the moving train
For their destinations of negativities
Servants of survival, battling against hunger and not wants
Uppermost red in the eyes, with no love for a fly
But want for food
Their dark slums are the best palaces of comforts
Higgledy piggledy, with something of lifelessness
And faeces loving rats, on the lookout for an heavenly drop of nothing but faeces

And then, the Masses at the rail tracks!
In the glorified names of traders,
Hands clanging with the common man’s needs
Life made cheaper for the destitute
Comforts hung in the air
And the kingdom of heaven brought to earth.
The “Traders”, soldiers of the scorching sun and the merciless rain
With a battle against wants
And a dogged will to embrace hope amidst uncertainties
I see them running with their unsold sacraments in upmost fear
From a furious moving train of squalor, unstoppable and unreachable
And coming back stronger when the moving sadist is all gone

Look at the takers! The bosses of influence and creators of affluence
Watching the endless train
Silent in their big motor cars,
Illuminated on the inside and dark on the outside
“The train is noisy”, so they say.

GBOYEGA RICHARD AYEPOLA.

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Thank You Stanley.

nice but learn to use stanza in poetry

Thank you Obynce but I needed to ask you this;Do you understand what is meant by Stanza in poetry? Please read more about it and go over the poem again.Thanks for appreciating the poem.