A poem about Nigeria's grossly flawed 2023 elections. |
Well, so they tell us- the political gladiators and heavy weights. That in permanent servitude we must remain. They create a void in our stomachs, which they momentarily fill with what they carted away from us. Just for their self will and whims for another leap year's tenure to be entrenched. They widen the capacity for evil of the canines they have intentionally starved. For a bone's morsel, the canines viciously their draconian orders execute. Just for their masters' sit-tight bid to be guaranteed. Restrained with the servile chains of their desperate overlords, they bark ravenously at the oppressed, who have come to liberate themselves at polling units. Each time the unworthy is by the ballot box overthrown, the ravenous canines at the hands of feeble patriots gnaw. A pound of flesh they take from the down-trodden kingmakers, to usurp the power they have in good governance vested. The umpire with filthy lucre gratified, raises the hand of the fraudulently triumphant political Brahmin, who for another leap year's tenure subjugates his dalits with utter deprivation; ASUU strikes, poor infrastructure, incessant power cuts, poor health delivery, persistent insecurity, unemployment and the cancerous bad governance. With fat cheeks and stiff neck that is well sunken into a robust torso, he regularly raises the sides of an African attire of elitist renown, set once more to amass more spoils of political office for a privileged family dynasty. |