The Election result is a kill-joy
And has a man made a boy:
A result so blunt I’m trying ketamine;
That should my recovery determine
My BP should’ve been key issue
And its treatment a Toilet Tissue …
A woman has captured my capital
And what’s next if not Hospital?
The whole stuff taken to any doorstep
And claiming to have watched my every step …
My eyes have been fed humbling scores,
Another shutting of my political doors
An angering spread sheet on my lap
Underscoring my defeat by a gap.
And I swear animals what these portend,
Birds to laugh if I do them contend …
Right now A chairwoman Elect!
And they wouldn’t me select.
Already, I can see her sky-scraping head gear
And celebratory fanfare in high gear
Artificial eye-lashes one can glimpse from hundred meters
And music-powering generator with hundred litres …
And guess I’m emigrating to Dakar
Or to far-off fourth Africa
Or perhaps nearer Niamey …
No eye-lashes wearer will chair me.
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