I Hate the Kind of Life that I'm Living

This is a poem about the trials of life.

Is that old clock telling the correct time?

I can’t believe that it’s almost 9 a.m.

Last night I went to bed late, and I overslept.

I’m not even sure what day it is.

The calendar on the wall is showing Monday,

But it sure feels like Saturday.

I just got out of bed a few minutes ago.

Sleep usually wears me out.

Two noisy poodles on my veranda are driving me insane.

Lord, this backache is killing me!

I can’t live peacefully in this tenement house.

Inconsiderate people surround me day and night.

I’m tired of the contention and disturbance.

The boisterous tenants are always bickering.

 

I work hard to put money in the boss’ pocket.

Taxes deprive me of half of my little earnings.

Fare and other expenses leave me penniless.

The landlord is knocking on my door for the rent,

But I don’t have a cent to pay him.

My electricity is disconnected for non-payment of bill.

And there’s no water in the pipe.

Thank God, I don’t owe the store any instalment.

I can’t afford to cook delicious meals

Such as fish, chicken, pork, beef, turkey, etc.

Last night I ate dry bread and drank a cup of tea.

This morning, I can’t even “suck salt.”

I hate the kind of life that I’m living.

The cost of living is rising weekly.

Jobless youths are all over the community.

And they just loaf around all day.

The hooligans smoke ganja on the street corners.

I can’t stomach the odour of that thing.

They call me “Elda” when I pass them.

Sometimes a youngster asks me for a “bills.”

But I have nothing to give anybody.

Furthermore, I don’t support laziness and habitual begging.

I’m a talented writer with objectives,

But I see no opportunity for advancement.

I may soon resort to crime in order to “eat a food.”

Oh, I’m damn fed up with everything!

I wish I could find a quiet home somewhere to live.

Author's Note

This is an old piece. Enjoy the reading.