I will surely get back to you when I come online.
The albinos left us
Many decades ago,
Our brothers took over
We thought they are humane.
Haven't we seen enough?
How long will the gimmicks continue?
Irrationality looms the streets
Comfortable in our sufferings.
Pulpits oil our pains
Just a visit to religious canopies
Microphones will sing their praises
And lure our thumbs to their favour.
When the going gets tough
They tell us to shout to heavens
Calling on Chukwu Okike,
To intervene in our stupidity.
After lavishing time and resources
And their seats are threatened
They pay courtesy visit;
To their roots.
They come home
To romance our religious emotions
Divide and rule,
The abstract ideology and strategy.
What is the fate of our seeds?
Do they have hope?
We are their hope,
If we can take up placards,
And our thumbs will rewrite the narrative.
Beware of these pen robbers
Soon they will come home
These elephants trample on grasses
Who survive by nature's will
Out fate, is in our hands.
-
Author:
Jude Chukwuemeka Muoneke (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 2nd, 2022 02:12
- Comment from author about the poem: This poem exposes and satirizes the bad leadership and representation of the African leaders, who became worst than their colonizers. It also looks at how religious leaders on their path contribute to the sufferings of the masses. Some suggest who the congregation should vote or not vote. When the government fails the masses, religious leaders will ask their members to fast and pray. What a game of deceition!
- Category: Sociopolitical
- Views: 13
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.