JEREMIAD: 'TO THE LECTURERS' BY AJAKAYE STRIDA.

Hey Sir... Mr. Professor!

she is young as twenty one years old,

your voice is thick for fifty-four,

you last son in her department is seventeen years...

so focused a respectful lady in this inexperienced bones,

hurriedly carrying Mr Professor's bag as a biological daughter,

so much, you did admire her difference

and wished your own wife bored her.

Hey Sir... Mr Professor!

Up there in your housing office,

you smooched her hips

while she screamed and wailed as she could threaten,

or..., as she should just do,

if she were your Own Daughter.

Hey Sir... Mr Professor!

I know your history can remember all my lines leak,

you call her 'my goddaughter'

at the front of the world,

she becomes a 'reputable prostitute' before your colleagues in Staff club,

yet, you are her Lecturer...

Hmm,

no man can understand a situation better than the experiencer.

Hey Sir... Mr Professor!

After several chains you tied around her neck,

with chocking instructions that keep her late at school,

your largest sum you gave was for postandall,

other harsh drugs to kill unripe babies.

Hey Sir...Mr Professor!

Let her love this single men in LASU or UNILAG,

if you don't want her for a second wife,

why did you hold her 'SIT 419'?

Your want her for the office bed,

and refuse her to graduate.

Hey Sir...Mr Professor!

She loves you like she would do to a 'Husband to be.'

This message is to correct your prosperity,

your achievement are so admirable 

but your hands under the carpet don't sweep,

they keep pins under the folds.

Hey Sir...Mr Professor!

This jeremiad is from AJAKAYE STRIDA,

I am a fearless ghetto poet.

RASHIDAT OLAMIDAYO AJAKAYE

STRIDA- Striking Ideas.

The poet laments over the heartless and reckless use of young ladies in the tertiary institution by the male members of staff who claim to love them.