A State Funeral.

Six they're it was said:
Two government ministers,
And four unknown wananchi--
Guards and pilots,
In the bird of death,
Before the fatal crash.

Calls of condolence flooded news rooms;
Some mystic tales were aired--
 Five days on end:
Flags were half-mast;
And news maniacs starved,
Amidst the endless tributes;
And oceans of tears shed...

They'd been flown--remains,
Under heavy security:
To city mortuary for post-mortem,
By skilled hands from lands yonder!
But the unknown four,
Were thrown into a nearby hospital store--
To be picked,
At their kins' displeasure!

Two government coffins were utilized;
They were decorated with our colourful flags.
The filthy paths to the fallen officers' palaces,
Were overnight tarmacked.
Rolls and rolls of red carpet were wasted:
For royals and loyals,
They cried like babies;
But still their eyes remained dry...

Lengthy and boring speeches were made,
Wherein politics were played,
And offerings done in gold.
The widows and orphans,
Were assured of endless government's support,
And cameras nationwide captured every thing...

Escape from Class.

I sit with a bottle--
My entire month's sweat.
And whine whilst trying to gobble:
Feeling its contents down my throat.

A lousy smell whirls by,
Of beer and farts after a concorted pie.
It infects my vulnerable stomach with a deadly ache,
So I puke and puke and puke...

Like a burst water pipe!

The free crumbs of gossip,
Which we equally share as one:
Slowly loosen my grip,
On scores I'd to settle with my clients and Number One.

Watching women work without waning,
In an era wherein being alive's an absolute error!;
They strip and tear each other over warthogs' wine!
And my heart skips beats due to terror...

I mourn for my children and wife;
Should my employer's knife:
Scrape me from the payroll;
A detest to my foul...