Fool’s Game
The U.N. is a theater house,
where warlords, drug lords, and mafias
wear the mask of statesmen.
Eighty years have passed—
what has changed?
They speak with honeyed tongues,
yet Gaza burns,
Ukraine bleeds,
Congo and Sudan melt into dust,
Libya is a fire unquenched.
These men you call leaders—
small gods in suits—
are but actors in a fool’s game.
The poor grow poorer,
the rich ascend to thrones of gold.
And still you believe—
still you kneel—
thinking these criminals
will bring you salvation?
No! They serve no people,
they represent no justice.
They serve only power,
and power devours its own.
And you, the masses,
with your blind faith,
electing executioners
to guard your children—
how can blind men lead us
to any promised land?
For eighty years
in the United Nations theater
the curtains rise,
the scripts repeat,
and the audience weeps in silence.
The world cries for peace,
for justice,
for equality—
yet what is offered
is freedom of fools,
a stage drenched in blood,
a democracy of shadows.
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