Man from the Moon
By Samike
Here is the man from the moon,
Escorted by his ‘paid ‘ goons,
Carrying a thousand of his posters,
Purported to be his staunch supporters.
As he enters the market,people gather near,
With their aim to hear,
His well-crafted Manifestos,
Which absorb our worries like asbestos.
We listen as he narrates his promises,
And in return we tell him our wishes,
He leaves behind some money to share,
So that his shenanigans we cheer.
We suddenly change our mood,
On wearing his Mtumba hood,
Coloured and bearing his portrait,
appearing very focused and straight.
We forget that 5 years ago,
We elected the one we want him to go
As our member of parliament,
But as of now? We lament.
It means when we elect them, they disappear,
Their names is what we hear,
In radio and TVs buzzing like bees,
And have forgotten the promised heaven -to-be.
Now we are tired,
We shall vote in the tried,
Humble and ready to serve us
And never to mock us.