Africa, oh Africa,
Some say you rhyme with Antarctica,
Cold and desolate, yet full of vigor,
But they visit, only to explore and be in awe
When it's time to be a star, your cowardly expertise has to shine.
When democracy is a scam politics are in shams.
You sell your votes like you sell your soul,
To the devil who has nothing but a heart of stone.
You think he cares until one year when all you know is tremor and fear.
Four years have gone. Four years begin.
Our choice the same. Our fate reapeted.
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Author:
Isa_writes for fun (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 16th, 2023 17:30
- Comment from author about the poem: This poem is about elections in Africa. It talks about how many people in Africa sell their votes to politicians for cheap change and then complain about bad government. Yet, when it is time to vote again they still make the same mistake.
- Category: Sociopolitical
- Views: 11
Offline)
Comments2
You write for fun? Then I don't understand your poem at all!!
Care to explain?
indeed, democracy around the world
is a cyclical mirage of futile votes
still
at least we get the pretence
an election magic show
they're still wary enough
to keep us
entertained and distracted
a tomorrow will come, when even this
will be taken from us...
thanks for sharing, dear poet
I look forward to reading more of your work
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