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WAYLAID DREAMS
Grief stricken time,
Gripped by sluggish epochs,
Self centred myopia,
Utopia a fallacy,
Not plotted on Google maps of politics.
People’s aspirations held hostage,
Leaders cast aspersions to while away time,
Creating ways to cling to power for prolonged terms,
To loot,
To amass,
And change policies before vision is restored to the blinded multitudes.

Poverty harping on the same string,
Strumming,
Humming,
The poor sings and swings
to hypnotising tunes of a better life in the horizon,
Chasing hopes,
Chasing own tails,
Twisted realities embraced as fate.

Epoch apocalypse,
History branded a liar,
Fragile aspirations implode,
A better life stillborn,
Only to be born after the incineration of wombs that birth corruption and indifference.

Undeserved glowing pedestals,
High echelons babel towers.
Can you see a bright future ahead?
Or a bloated one surrounded by gluttons,
Comparing round waists and potbellies,
Terrains where people’s dreams are waylaid,
Waiting to be ambushed and massacred with a smile.
They are capable of such gory acts,
For consciences are carried in black garbage bags,
Same bags used as carriers of blood money to buy flavoured political favours.

Time years,
Time pines,
Time ticks,
Time awaits new disciples,
A new Moses,
A new Joshua,
A new Nkrumah,
A new Lumumba,
A new Biko,
A new Tambo,
A new era,
A new soul,
A new conscience,
A new vision,
A new tune,
A new world.

#politcs #corruption

© Ezrom Maromo wa Sekgobela

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