Like a pottery gem
It’s modeled out of clay dug by the banks
Of a massive river of blood
Blood shed by tribal animosity
It’s moulded by the hands of callous
Political vampires,
Seasoned under the heat
Of oppression and starvation.
Like the finest gold
Its dug from the richest
Honourable-pocket mines
Sorted out in august house
Refined in I-will-never-pay-tax industry.
Like a heavy storm
It’s born out of heavy clouds of discontent
Furiously gathering under the force
Of a heavy wind of liberation
Unleashing its wrath upon the evil elites
When the weight is too much
For the clear-draught-causing heavens to bear.
So who are revolutionaries?
They are the women of courage
Women who when entangled into
Greedy political marriages
Stand, break up and divorce
Their wicked husbands.
They are the youth devoid of ethnic instincts
Youth who can’t stand drug addiction
Youth who dread political manipulation
Selfless youth not chained to corruption
Respectful youth wary of hooliganism.
They are the men of integrity
Who when thrown into the turbulent sea
Of corruption, political opportunism, tribalism
Nepotism, cannibalism
Get swallowed by the whale
Of self respect and loyalty
And are later vomited in the Nineveh
Of equality and justice.
