I mourn the days of my youth
Who can help me redeem all those lost years of chasing vanity? Where are the days I had the best energy, excellent health and the minor decisions to make? My closet is full of undergarments I so much despise in the form of sin and unclean memories that turned me into an adult.
Who are those that are celebrating my slave contract, they say I found a good job? What difference is the plantations and the corporate jungle? I see the same formulae and techniques running both. When will the labourer afford a day in paradise like his master? When you book the golf day for the executive how come you leave me behind yet I spend more time in the office than he does? What is my worth? How come awards go to single individuals when in reality its concerted effort? My ideas are presented on platforms I am barred entry into. I do not qualify to join the billionaires club yet my organisation amplifies my presentation. I was promised a few shares once yet the minds of the directors deleted the very thought of a village boy being financially independent and maybe becoming competition. I just had to be kept in check and far from the cheese company policy changed right when the grades were closer to the benchmark. The profiteer has no remorse. He demands and gets his geedy cravings by walking over everything and every being. He is a mechanism, a system built to consume with no cost. I mourn my energy, sweat and ideas.
Who is that asking me when I will marry? I thought you knew that my savings were depleted with the global meltdown. Like Ngugi, I will marry when I want. I thought I had to to be stable enough to settle down, please don’t push me. I want the plush and posh. My kids must enjoy it too. So much pressure out here. I dearly mourn my youth. I should have just run off to the horizons beyond.
It somehow gets blury as you age. Oh I mourn my youth. My dreams used to be crystal clear. I set every goal and planned every fine detail. Its all too far fetched now. An impossible reality or is it? I am just tired of disspointment.
Who are these sprouting life coaches, motivational speakers and daylight orator robbers? They have the sweetest words and sweetest methods yet we have no results. We are so desperately in their shadow in the hope of gold in a stack of hay. The gate takings are a conveyor belt to suck the very last cent we have to listen to how best we could live this life. I can understand the desperation, poverty and the need for more. We are easily manipulated, a people with nothing to lose! My youth was wasted.
Should I have run for the political office for my opinion to matter? I seem to struggle to get my voice heard. All I do is listen, how about my concerns? I mourn my youthful years, they are gone and I am stuck with this reality.
Ricky Cobb