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Stolen Illumination of the Star

STOLEN ILLUMINATION OF THE STAR

This journey has not been a fanciful adventure, 
we're all settlers in  these dynasty of neo-colonialism 
united only by what divides us. Victims, yes 
victims of civilized inducement, 
terms of reference only apply to the proletarians. 
Am not merely being irrational behind the scene we 
have double standard, huge volumes of finger print 
even the blind can see.
 
Not far too fast we live together but now, 
now they looked down on US cause, unlike US 
this folks acquired a taste for a different melody, 
raining impunity in the guise of immunity such; 
overt display of power used to be associated with 
slavery but now, now  the trade mark of the BIG BROTHERS. 
Frail men with no emotional intelligence who built fences 
taller than mount Everest. 

The night is unusually long and my integrity will 
not allow me to be perceive at this crooked system 
that has continue to hurt our conscience,  
I think the beginning of the conflict was capitalism, 
though we lived in communities without common goal 
wasting in estates, oh honourables without honours 
preaching the ten commandment of development yet 
dragging us into recession; gang raping our economy.

My peoples hope are kept half alive by the state charity 
called the budget which merely introduces a touch 
of faint breeze accompanied by mixed messages, 
while we suffer collective amnesia; every year is 
another sand castle, the legislatures flip through it pages 
in an expression of esprit de corps with the executive 
bathes in their own propaganda perhaps a tight-lipped 
concentric circle of  conspiracy. 

We ran to this floating fortress caused all we ever wanted 
is change, yes change now my comrades walking with 
their head dangling over shrinking shadows 
colonized by hunger and poverty, weary of being 
without in the midst of plenty while our reps engage 
in sophistry hoping to get a simple majority, 
these crake in their armour became the gaping hole 
in this fortress wall that was once home to us, 
well maybe am looking at the concept of orthodoxy  differently 
perhaps  I over exaggerated.

Our land held bound by this creatures of whim who seem 
to walk in the delirium induced by common greed, 
tearing down our walls as the walls of Jericho 
with policies summersault, soaking us into ideologist 
that were never part of our core values. 
This harmattan wild-fire burns in every facade 
like a stray girl but the mirror keeps in focus with 
associative evidence, aided by dark hidden hands 
acted by these black stars.
 
The judiciary have made abortive attempts in 
her journey to freedom, while the last diagnosis 
proved miscarriage of justice others result in still-birth. 
These kleptocrats tend to mystify development 
and still claim the government is for the people 
when everything is behind close door, 
attended only by members of the internal fracas, 
yet I was told am the leader of tomorrow and now 
I wander if am anywhere close,
 perhaps is part of the poli-tricks to define hypocrisy 
for democracy.

Even our activist are carrier freedom fighters 
whose effort made a sabotage of our own mission,
alas this is no short than a well rehearsed choreography 
of colours in deception. Over the years 
the chief priest who held in trust,  feast on the nations fortune 
and still have the nerves to preach contentment, 
in every constituency there is no consistency. 
Our abattoirs are filled with native and foreign vultures, 
while the butchers knife slash without mercy the national cake.
 
The psychological basis for this social contract was fair but 
I really wander if the rules still applies. 

Surely a case of an oppressed majority, all my homie got was
the minimum wage which can't satisfied a noble appetite, 
I think no more explanation for the rage. 
Amazingly this folks in their desperate political jig 
to remain in power recycled themselves every four years, 
while we listened in stunned silence as they engage in oral 
acrobatic promising to change our notion into a nation; 
mere rhetoric which excites our imaginations, 
seduces us to believe in miracles,
we ran with deadly haste to the polls as this prospect 
casted a dark shade over us and now we're casualties of 
our own mischief  laugh to scone by the sun and the august rain.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




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Book: Reflection on the Important Things