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As time tolls on the thresh-hold of our dreams
It is again time when these men and women of our land,
Bulk-headed with burdens unfathomable, invade our lives,
Oblivious of our indifference, they come armed with honeyed tongues,
or sometimes mouth-bombs, spitting words like warheads against their
Opponents; we are the target audience, as usual
To the roving animal of their tongues...
They always say things as predicable as day and night
I have seen their lies bewitch my brethrens like a witch doctor's tongue,
Placating testimonials of victory we are yet to experience;
These are our common cameleons, black-eyed and red-nosed
Wth influence and affluence, fathers of moonlight by night
And mothers of sunlight by day, comical, humourous,
Thrusting forward their chests, they count on our numbers and our gullibilty
To serenade their songs to the familiar seats of privelege;
They influence the cosmos in their comouflage colours,
And we follow the old songs, revisiting the old pages of their paths
Like a caravan of camels filing th sahel to the salt-lakes of Timbuktu;
Their college is a circus of love-birds in circa
Fighting in seductive sprees before they make love,
One pinned to the branch like a nail, consumed in the peroxysm of orgasm;
Suddenly their moods would go sour like malted milk, nauseating;
Their sycophants would settle scores on the side-walks. Life go awry;
But never mind they are victims or mere collateral damage,
The real prize in their hands massages the pains of mourning;
They would call each other later to make merry, or perhaps, marry again,
Their wives or concubines they would make love
In the fine beds of class and privelege...
They must have pawned their shame to shylocks eager to profit,
They feed their children with stolen fat, blood in their hands,
And still traverse the paths shaded wth sunlight to speak of
Integrity, transparency, accountability, democracy, or even
Morals of our culture curved on slates of tomorrows' visions;
We smell the belch of their moral turpitude,
Feel the rythm of their run-way ineptitude,
We think of religion as a panacea but the masses,
Boiling wth anger, can't eat the Bible or Quran, when
Faith-based tension still roil our landscape;
As time tolls on the threshhold of our dreams
The deficit of decency in our value systems
Is so wide that it swallows our collective conscience
The awaited space of another generation, premature in perspective,
Falls into the dark fathoms, drowning the delights of dawn.
