Best Junta Poems
In the heart of vibrant Africa, where democracy should reign,
Two shadows lurk, two specters haunt, two faces of the same pain.
One a soldier, gun in hand, the other clothed in suit,
Both rob the people of their choice, both the people's voice they mute.
The military coup, so stark, its violence loud and clear,
Ousts the leaders chosen by the people, instilling fear.
An iron fist in velvet glove, the power it seizes tight,
An eclipse of freedom, a darkened sun, a never-ending night.
The electoral commission, oh, how it wears a gentler face,
Yet hides beneath a veneer of law, a similar disgrace.
Votes cast in trust, a people's hope, but when the counting's done,
The rightful winner cast aside, the injustice has begun.
One uses bullets, the other, pens, tools of power's game,
But look within their hearts and see, their purpose is the same.
To usurp the will of the people, to claim a stolen throne,
To silence the voice of democracy, to make the power their own.
A coup is a tempest, fierce and wild, a storm that shakes the land,
Election theft, a poison slow, a tightening of the hand.
Yet both are a violation, a rape of trust and right,
Both leave a wound upon the land, a scar both deep and bright.
Africa, oh Africa, the cradle of mankind,
In your heart democracy’s seed, these usurpers try to bind.
But your spirit is resilient, your will cannot be tamed,
For the flame of freedom, once lit, cannot be maimed.
And so your people rise, against the bullet and the pen,
To claim the promise of their vote, to find their voice again.
For whether by coup or stolen vote, the truth remains the same,
Injustice anywhere is a threat, to justice's sacred flame.
Each coup, each election, a battle in the fight,
For the heart of Africa, for democracy's light.
Yet, hope persists, the struggle goes, until that glorious day,
When Africa is free at last, come what may.
Once, a very long time ago
You truly understood our woes
Your youthful energy burned bright
Promising to deliver us from limbo
Indeed, a welcome beacon in the dark
Maybe it was the lesser evil
For surely, the corrupt regime had to go
In crises like those, sacrifices had to be made
So we dutifully turned our backs
And let the blood flow
For a while, you were the ideal leader
Our dear and beloved liberator
The butchery forgotten, tranquility returned
Success for all was certain
The fruits of democracy as we know it
It was all too good to be true
Murmurs of discontent flared
Pertinent questions arose, zero answers came forth
The leader had lost sight of the noble goal
Democracy was a mere mirage
Injustice of all forms is meted out generously
Murder and gore freely roam the streets
Empty pockets stare at us mockingly
Tears stain our cheeks
We call to the government in vain
So here we stand once again
Swearing that the correct regime must go
More than ready to sacrifice
But the blood.Oh God!the blood
Let blood not flow...
Junta
Pensei hoje de manhã
nem o mar vive sozinho
parado sonhando:
trás e leva
mares de pedidos.
É assim,
mais de fazer mais,
mais de movimento
do que pensamento,
a mão nos diz
ah: uma coisa feliz
é mãos juntas
fazer mais e mais.
Junta
AH Mulher!
Sempre junta
palavras para a
ação.
AH Mulher,
Forte e fraca
Força e Fragilidade
2021 ou 2022!
Mulher, assim estás
no meio do amor
como o centro da rosa
com ostinato rigore
faz a cada dia mais
e mais...
Mulher que junta
AH Mulher!
Sempre juntando palavras de chamada para a ação.
Uma ação para todas as pessoas,
homens,
mulheres, pessoas adultas ou crianças
são chamadas para dar continuidade ao progresso
em favor deste tempo
e das gerações vindouras.
AH Mulher,
Forte e fraca
Força e Fragilidade!
Mulher, assim estás
no meio do amor
como o centro da rosa.
Fazendo a cada dia mais
E mais..