Accra ( after William Blake)

I wander through every mucky street, 
Near where the choked Odaw cannot flow. 
And mark in every face I meet, 
Marks of weariness, marks of sorrow

In the very sweat of every chap, 
In every driver's cry for way, 
In every voice: in every shack, 
The decay of a nation holds sway.

Have you read: The Hustler in the City?

How the street-sleepers cry, 
Every trader's stall in choking spaces, 
And the shirtless truck pushers' sigh, 
Ring of the sleaze in high places. 

But worse, in the perilous nights I see 
How the youthful harlots and hustlers sleep 
As the cargo of cursed slave-ships at sea 
And chars with shame the conscience deep

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