What’s the point it’s the same old trash
That was churned and dumped five years ago?
What has changed for the street dweller,
Who still dwells in his habitat all-time low
Why should I waste my time and temper,
On choosing the next wanton first fellow?
Why should I hope and despair again,
For what’s democracy but a lost war’s broken byplane
Why should I be a solo voice, or act sane,
And vote in an election of the slayer vs the slain
‘Cos if you don’t vote someone else will,
Deftly add zeros to corruption’s hefty bill,
The criminal will ink choices with a bloodstained quill,
The nation will be pounded in the wealthy man’s mill…
Sinister plots will surface at the polling booth,
Multifaceted voters will impersonate very truth,
Rotten old voices would make decisions for the youth,
Money and gab will crown a leader uncouth.
These bad roads, empty granaries and lack of common sense
Those tainted decisions and what happened thence
Need not prevail over an informed voter conscience
For each vote counts, it is democracy’s very essence
For this ink will someday undo a failed dynasty’s ill-spent anger
For this ink is your final tryst with destiny’s long forgotten clangor
For this ink can silence for good that meaningless empty power clamor
For only this ink will help sieve out the desired kosher from the shammer.
Picture by Parker Johnson (Unplash)