I see a great body of water deal
Seem it is bound there under a seal
Wouldn't you go and kill the killer Thirsty before he kills again?
By standing there,a waste I call it,what did you stand to gain?
Wouldn't you move to deserts and make it liveable?
Are you bound,afraid or without a trial,you won't be able?
Oh! How much I envy the land that hold so much a water.


Generation by generation they live undisturbed
The ancestral home they call that land they lived
Roots to roots,trees to trees,they each other conceive
And the roots and the trees and the lands enjoy the gift the Nature give
But I say,is it a waste the land
Not used to form an art nor an idea not even a hoe ever touch the sand
How much that land spites me: that land that enjoy natural peace.

I know of a man that tilled a one thousand ridges
But forgotten his matches at the very second of the ridges
He started from the one thousandth to untilled the land,looking for it
Ay! Not when he reached the secondth ne he found it
Looking back,with the regret finger in his mouth,he wish he had not untilled
That acre of land he had tilled
What a waste of might!

A waste is the beauty of a peacock-like lady I know
A special creation of god Cupid,if others don't know,I know
But the goddess Ate breath into men on her cause
For the lustful desire in men,they used her body for the cause
She thought and thought and thought she would one day lady the men who tops the world
Female version of Joseph! She is yet to reach half her dream when she left the world
Ha,such a waste!

A waste is that moutain like
To meet the sun in a low sky it seem to rise
Build to show owners' opulence compare to king Solomon
Ha! It look like a great rock in the light of the moon
A waste it is when the owner is dead
The sun went out of the building as if dead
In the belly of the building there is not a gaity and the pride and the colours.

A waste I call the knowledge
Which is given to an intelligentsia,a God-chosen judge
But which he hids behind the curtains because he fears the above authority's blows
Ha! For the fear of saving his own head,he boycotted the truth he suppose shows
And also,he who bow with his wizdom
Also he who show little and hide wholesome
For the fear that his students shouldn't know as much as he.

Packs of waste are the bodies in the belly of the earth planted
With the flesh and the bones and the bloods and the veins interred
With the craft and the life accomplishments in vain?
Should I open my mouth and call myself a fail?
The body they once endorsed,worshipped and save from Pain and Grief
And this body to maintain I become a partial thief
All is gone,such a Waste!

- Jimson Jaat Taofik
(Master Jaat)