Crying in Hiccoughs

The Election Day

8 A sham, a traitor, a communist, Him, his mentors not wanting to see. Sure, there is natural logic in this. His mentors err nor age not. Thoughtless of time off, With saponaceous dog-licked faces, They mail the status quo. The Election Day Tat, tat, tat, ta ta tat tat tatatata, The African electorate spew their ballots. Tat, tat, tum, tum, tat, tatata, tum,tum,tum, Puffy faces peer through bunker holes Beholding ghettos crumble under blast, Tum, tum, tum, tumtumtumtumtum, While panicky skeletons stampede, Littering cratered streets with bleached bodies. Tum,tat,tat,tat,tum,tum,tumtumtum,tatata, The temporarily spared, clamour in vain, Tum, tatatat tum,tumtumtum,tatata, tat, Spilling over unknown borders. Outcasts of the earth, wandering in the void, Tasting the nauseous broth of Ethiopia In a gruesome march to eternity. Tum, tum, tum, tatatat, tat, tum, tat, The world starts in awe, but helpless, For this is surely an internal affair, Tat, tum,tum,tum,tat,tat,tatata, And only the solid red lead emitting muzzle Can conduct the elections free and fair. Tat, tum, tat, tum, tat, tum, tum, tum tum, 9 From the carnage emerge the elected Skulls of hornbills empty; Wielding tanks, bombs and bayonets, For brains, charisma and fortitude. In a continent prone to death. The Monument The Emperor built a monument In his image and glory, And gilded it from toe to crest, And at its feet we laid palm fronds. Guards stood watch by day and night, In sunshine and rain alike, And it, in a circle backed, To face the external foe. On each nativity, ‘sages’ the world over, Paid homage to emperor and monument, And the world went round in glory, For the animate and the inanimate. Then after three scores the Emperor, In the way of all flesh went, And the circle of guards turned inward, And with raised guns faced the enemy. With a click the boom went up And a mighty cloud of dust rose, And where the monument and some Die-heart guards stood, Lo! An empty space became. ...