Elected servants like idols be
godservants, rough shod ride on you
Bane of third world
selfish leadership be
Now understand me the why's and how's
Powers gained leaders gluttons become
Humble loving lowly once be
Arrogant puffy now dare devil be
Who to blame but the electorate itself
Who abhor servants but love the lords
Leaders elected service to give
Attain godship once elected be
Now master servant
Servant master be
Master satisfied with crumbs
Servant takes all
A song of foolery
A dance of the dead
African man wake revive your mind
School yourself not to be beggarly poor
Worship not your servants dance not for crumbs
While he away with the loot of oil
Rape your maidens steal your best wine
Mind too dulled to see afar
Blunted with drink glutony and greed
Your nose's where your sight has lapsed
Your mind sunk in doldrums of wine
Your leader on pedestals higher than you
You are the servant, your servant your king
You thread barefoot he rides a horse
He eats the yams, you lick the oil
As long as your mouths' stained
You are content
Your belly's full and your purse' lined
Me tempts to say how foolish you are
That You serve your servant
Than your servant serve you
He serves himself
with impunity too
Cos your minds weak and so's your arm
Abdication disease that's what you've got
Africa you keep voting to power
Your servants you give all influence and wealth
Then you stand by and watch him grow
Then he tramples on you without a care
And you quake and tremble when he stamps his feet
You say not a word, nor a whimper too
'cos its just the crumbs you seek to live
A few flattering words & content are you
A few rolls of notes dropped in your palms
You walk away smiling
Thinking how favored you are
Frail foolish thinking he knows your mind
Too weak to reason too lazy to care
Too prone to begging for What is yours
Black people wake up and do the right
Stop valuing pretense
Above the real
Stop siding with lies
Above the truth
Stop trying to pretend
That all is well
You watchdogs now mere toothless bulls
He rants at presidents barks at priests
Brings governments to sit at his feet
For a sense of power, maybe a few crumbs too
Yet his house's filled with filthy lucre
Garments soiled with gluttony and greed
Arms weakened lazy with sloth
Carefree nonchalance birthed the fool
- Florence Umoetuk
15-03-2015
15-03-2015
