THE BEGGAR’S SOLILOQUY

18). THE BEGGAR’S SOLILOQUY

In the native land, there-

where the Sun bakes and fries the land-

the clouds rain, of sand and dust-

Sea of Sand, waves of dust, ridges and dunes-

flows, the richest of Allah’s gifts; ~

a sea of gas, petrol of oil- the black liquid gold-.

Beneath my feet, the ground I walks-

flows, my share of Allah’s gift of liquid gold and silver-

Yet lost, find I and myself, starving-

wandering about the streets, in beggar’s shoes-

seeking diligently whom I owe the blame-

for my God’s given fortune missed?-

Who, made me, the man I have become?

the sorry-site- the wayside-bottom of the living-

finding myself, in beggar’s shoes-.

The Government of Sharia?-

yet survival of the fittest-

the jungle justice and winner take all-

where the poor blesses the rich-

and line up, for the crumbs, that fall out from master’s table-

But all it takes for me and myself to stand-

“A reminder to them surgeons”-

It is just a barrel of petrol oil per week bestow- Qulum! That is all!-

But to whom do I owe then this blame;

for my God’s given fortune missed?-

Oh-o! Not I- beam myself then; onto my Emir and Emirate-

                                                   

On the street, I trek daily, with expectations high,

for them in conscience blame-

Those bad souls, rotten, stinking greedy souls-

Who made me the man I am; ~

“The Post Master of Allah/God’s divine penitential fees”

To religion from which pews are preached;

“Beggary ~ is a Blessed Profession”?-

Yet no adherent in faith and worship,

a caliph, for Allah/God’s sake, would,

a volunteer become- a Beggar Emir-

To whom do I owe this blame?-

for my God’s given fortune missed?-

In my native, land that flows-

the petrol of oil, sea of flammable wealth, natives say-

“A beggar has no choice not even in US of A”-

O! ya!-

the truth, I know, for,  I am, the Master-

It’s only when, the beggar is not you-

I walk the street wearing out my soles-

day and night, dry or wet, rough or smooth,

My kind heated intercessory offerings/

that, souls, may be amended;

patch-patch soul to render-

prime solicitation to Allah/God-

    

My toes are dusty, full of cracks, gauges, the canyons

the habitat haven for the like of jiggers,

and their burrowing sack of juniors-

the beggar’s lead to salvation,

from the merit of mortification-

too many soles, I have worn-out-

through many work-a-days

do grace my experience high-

certified by, the College of Beggary.

Recon my face preserved my experience, Suma Cum Laude-

weather-beaten and self in tartar- veteran raggedy-

Albeit! I must be highly ranked- the Obama by Him,

Allah/God ~the mender, of bad souls/.

To whom do I owe the blame?

Oh-o! Not I! Take myself to my Emir

The blame for my God’s given fortune missed.

Oh, how with expectation I stand-

impressively raggedy-

those men in consciences blamed-

needing seriously the Mender of Bad Souls-

Would perceive my experience and higher rank

as the Post Master of Allah’s divine penitential fees-

increase their fees to bundles- Wallahi/ By God

to speed up time-

for their souls, be amended- The express delivery

For the Mender of bad souls appreciates the widow’s mite-

rather than a coin toss at Allah’s divine Postmaster-

What an under rating -

If, you are, not a widow/?

yours is His tax to pay -

for His wealth consumed.

Payment through this -

Post Master of Allah’s divine penitential fees.

For you, I owe the blame?

Oh-o! Not me; take it to your Emir.

O! Poor Soul-

See-

poverty has anointed me-

 The “Tool” for the Mender of Bad Soul-

 I, the Mother T. of Dubai-
In my native land, the Caliphs claim the Divine Right to Rule-

even the oil beneath the earth-

 and the dead bodies too-

They also claim blessings from Allah/God-

God given fortune, theirs and also mine-

Oh yes! -

to ensure I a beggar be- Chaii!

O! Why not a writ of divorce?

 “Become a Christian, - give up your jigger too!” –

They battle the Mighty Ocean, with my share,

to build, Sky Scrapper on the Sea/ Kai!  Who?

In the City, I walk, wearing out my soles;

that, Bad Souls may be amended/.

O! exile you, and yourself to Nigeria

fry your jiggers for lunch

There in Nigeria,

meet Souls whose soles barely touch the ground

on which I walk. Oh, see! O! See,

what?

“That this beggar finds not the Emir culpable”.

They see not, my high esteem-

as the Postmaster for Divine Penitential Fees-

To offer a fee commensurate to their worsening Souls-

and my Beggary years of experience-

Would that the giving, had been in bundles?-

O beggar me! To whom do I owe a blame?

for my God’s given fortune missed?

I talk to myself the label it Beggar’s soliloquy-

I talk to Allah/God they tag it Beggar’s ingratitude-

I talk to fellow beggars; they say I am crazy-

But when I talk to people on the street; they run/

they distance themselves from this beggar-

~The foul-mouthed beggar.

Oh, beggar me- the Postmaster for Divine Penitential Fees-

How is it; and why not- the Beggar-Treasonable-Felon-

All I did was asking-

who to blame for my Allah /God given fortune missed-

I, myself am- my own judge, jury, and executioner-

Spent out the meager Divine Penitential Fees-

Starved to death-

Buried deep for more petrol oil-

Allah/God be the Supreme Judge, Jury, and Executioner

of this Postmaster of Divine Penitential Fees

and my Caliph of the Divine Right of Kings/.