Corruption Poems

Popular Corruption Poems

I am not a Lazy Youth!

by Graham Ereks

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I am not a Lazy Youth
A posse of fallacy-inventors they are;
Making sugar-coated promises;
They are but tricksters and swindlers—political crooks!

We are governed by scoundrels and crooks,

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An Octave of the Lost Sonnet

by Jonathan Tafreg

If you can ignore your true culture,
Then you are mentally ill.
If you are lacking true superstructure,
Better then you take suicide pill.
Never use your dream infrastructure,
Not every blank you must fill.
Backbone no longer agriculture,
For corruption pays all the bill.

A Disheartened Community

by Graham Ereks

We are a disheartened community
Renowned for futility and dearth,
Where egalitarianism is but a fiction.
Our dreams are petered out;
Our future jettisoned, for what
Is our future in a stateless state?

Our government is but an embodiment
Of corruption; a cabal of swindlers,
Who get richer and richer, while

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Happy Birthday Homie!

by Awwab Paracha

Yo happy birthday dude! I have no idea how old you are. In fact, I never knew how old you were. All I knew was that you were big and cool. Like tall and muscly and mature and everything that I wanted to be. The privileges, the status, the good looks, and the fireworks that you got to play with and I didn’t cuz I was too damn young. All of that was all that I saw because that is all there was and now that is all that’s left. I don’t remember much of it honestly but why did you leave so soon man? We should have made memories that I could actually remember instead of painting a stupid foggy morning in my 8-year-old head. U still had to teach me how to spin a basketball on my fingers and let me ride my bike on the ramp you have leading up to your home, your soul, your being and your existence. I’m starting to forget your face. I think you had a goatee or something weird like that. Whatever it was I thought it was cool at the time. Times change and people change. Times don’t change and people stay the same. Well, the times have changed but you are the same. Buried by the main road near the lame tree leaving us with just your first and last name. I didn’t even attend ur goddam funeral cuz time kept me busy. It kept me going, it kept me striving. Or was it just slowly killing me? Reminding me that one day you will teach me how to spin a basketball on my fingers. I hate basketball now by the way. Not everybody is as good at it as you. Do they celebrate birthdays in heaven? I don’t know. I haven’t really understood anything I read in the Quran. It sounds so wrong coming outta false mouths looking for false benefits and salvation while putting up with the damnation of the racist world we live in, live on, and die under. It’s filled with shooters and hooters who act like they have never seen a pretty girl before while they steal her soul and bury her by the road. The same people who keep splitting nations to create absolutions, indignations. They wanna define each man and woman by the machine of their soul. Well, ur machine is already rusting somewhere under the ground. The ground that you were supposed to play monkey in the middle with me on with the new frisbee that I bought cuz the toy shop stopped selling soccer balls. Due to the fact that the country we lived in got involved in brawls with politics, religion, rape, and molestation. They don’t care about no soccer balls. People make things so complicated. It’s kinda stupid to talk with you if you're not gonna say anything back. Sorry, I just wanna hear your voice cuz I don’t know what it sounds like anymore. I see ur face in pictures and try to imagine the creation of the vibrations of your vocal cords like I do with my favourite songs. There’s this new singer named Shawn. I never tell my friends that I listen to his music cuz I know they would just lose it. I mean I only listened to like one or two of his songs. Well, maybe 3 or 4 or 5 or 6 or 7 or 8 but it’s not too late to turn back to some good old Kendrick Lamar. Sorry, I know you don’t know any of these people. You don’t know these stories. I hate how you gave me this story. The details are burned into my skull like the devil’s choir of death. I remember after you left. My mom went to your house. She didn’t even cry, she just talked to your mom about how you were taken too soon and all of that cliche BS that I have seen her do at every funeral. But this time, she was broken and losing function. The air around her became the suction of her tears and the white hair on her head started to fall melting into the Niagra Falls cuz that’s where we were when we got the news of your awakening. It came in like a wet blanket of tears waterboarding my nose my mouth and at that moment I didn’t have a single doubt about my mortality and my life and my growing body. I knew that one day I would also be buried by the same lame tree near the same main road leaving behind a rotting pile of grief that would only be visible in the eyes of my mother and the silence of my brother and the Malboro cigarette packets of my father. If you can die then I can die too I’m sure. You even left your baby boy alone in this world, he was only four. Did you know we moved to Canada? Man nobody here has a goatee. In fact, people who have goatees are either living in a crappy basement or in a jail cell. Just kidding, some are listening to the sounds of Heaven’s bells.

Poly Ticks

by Seyi Ojenike

Politics, a game of power and might

Where the rules are often bent and slighted

A world of deals and hidden agendas

Where truth is lost and ambition festered

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Recent Corruption Poems

I Will Not Vote

by Hébert Logerie

Yes, I will certainly vote
But I won’t vote for liars
I will not vote for backstabbers
I will not vote for dictators
I will not vote for tax cheaters
I will not vote for murderers
I will not vote for bad politicians
I will not vote for magicians
I will not vote for fake Christians
I will not vote for draft dodgers

......

Haïti Est Humilié et Trahi

by Hébert Logerie

Haïti est un pays
Trahi par ses généraux et ses propres fils
Haïti est harcelé et humilié
Par ses généreux et ses propres alliés
L’argent, la gloire et le pouvoir
Dominent les actualités
Les apatrides veulent avoir
Tout ce qui a de la valeur
Haïti est dans un terrible malheur.

......

I am Bleeding

by Muhammad Umair

I am bleeding and falling apart
But no one is paying attention.
I am getting vulnerable and fragile;
Everyone seems to be hostile.

People are just manipulating
And my friends have started neglecting.
My survival seems uncertain;
My fortune is decided behind the curtain.

......

Millennium Approaches

by Taylor Sechman

As Millennium approaches, there is an undoubtable air of quiet chaos that fuels reinvention.
Black secrets of the air, and the nurturers tend to the unseen hand
People in their high forms float around the land, calling out to their muses to stay still in the universe's afterglow.
With the ample treasure within his chest, he whispered upon them, a perfection.
The muffling of chattering on rooftops and boardwalks, trembles and shade the sky, allowing a misty veil of uncertainty to ripple over the cities and rivers, making its way to suburbia, to the cell phone towers and the great satellites, to the souls of all men, and to the souls of all women.
A procession winding around the seven seas.

Encircled by the thick transparent night, so began the Great Redefining.
Extrapolating intention, the reason for infliction, and small convictions. And hereafter borned the inquisition: Who are the heretics now?
Roaring angels fell from heaven and filled the midnight streets with Martian smiles.

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Recycracy

by Seyi Ojenike

Under the guise of freedom and choice
The same set of rulers raise their voice
From independence till this day
Their power games we cannot sway

They swap positions like musical chairs
And extend their reign with endless affairs
Their greed knows no bound or limit
As they heap their pockets, we bear the brunt of it

......