You work for me - Raya Wambui

You work for me.
And I’m tired of seeing, my country men bleeding
for the sake of your fees.
See, you work for me,
But I can not believe in your incompetent grinning,
at my nations needs.
You work for me
inadequately.
Selfishly stabbing our unity.
Spitting at the beauty in diversity.
Disrespectfully rubbing dirt in the wounds which it should be,
your duty to heal for our children’s prosperity.
Don’t we drive on the same roads?
you’d rather take on loans?
Or aren’t you here too?

Do you work for me?
Not the other way round?
When you mess up, its your job to with shame,
face the ground.
To get up and run, when any warning bells sound.
Not measure your cocks for some heat beaten crowd.
You don’t care what parties I go to,
Why should I care the other way round?
Which schools will you build?
Where and how?
Can’t you feel the vibrations?
My lakes suffocation?
Can you see your reflection?
before we all drown?

You Work For Me.
Do your job!
Get it right!
My land is filled with resources, inspiring!
Do the job you’ve got now,
before you start applying,
for promotions, with notions,
of wasting more of my time.

You Work For Me.
In case you forgot it.
My anger is past the point where I lost it.
The time has now come.
To get real.
Or Forfeit.

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Raya Wambui (20th century) Kenya
Her poetry blog is here