Mangled ballot boxes
Bloodied faces
Headless goats
Mouthy hoodlums in the corridors of power
Burning votes define the
Last (s)elections
Yes the (s)election has come
Yet refuses to go
You are not us
We are not you
Stay away!
Risk death
If you won’t thumb my avatar
Meanwhile the powerful masquerade as enemies
In the dark they snort together
Convivial cannibal crooks feasting on
Laden tables
Yes the (s)election has come but
When will it be gone
The loquacious wax louder
Brimming bile and utter nonsense
The Good Book declares
Even fools are thought wise when they keep silent;
with their mouths shut, they seem intelligent.
Maggots-laden mouths lie in wait
To spew more trash on the threshing floors of death
Hate does not define us
Still hate struts bloodied streets propelled
On ballistic missiles
Stereotypes misfired from damned guns
Cheap commodities for bloody blackmail
But
This hate does not define us
Yes the (s)election has come but
Yet refuses to go.
Yes, we voted, weeping, dancing, beaten by rain and batons
Yes, voters waited outside the nameless collation tombs.
Why are dancers frozen in midair?
And winners blowing muted trumpets?
——–
Written after reading Bishop Kukah’s Easter message
09.04.2023