Is This What People Call Election? Poem by Darlington Chukwunyere

From within the hollow of unforeseen euphoria
I hail you my good people of the New Nigeria.
I am writing not only to you but also our neighbors.
Have ye not noticed, the heavy weight we have upon us,
spurred by the hands of the leaders whom were once among us?
Right now, they have taken us nowhere farther than where they had picked us

At hearth, we have been subdued, and we only but have sore hearts.
Imagine our icons for whom we have willingly doffed our hats.
They have overturned the tables, casting every trust down to the floor.
They clatter and glitter, while we remain shattered, battered and tattered
They grow bigger and fatter while we grow thinner and poorer the more.

This is madness and no elections!
All we see is caucus selections.
Our choices as electorates have become nothing but conquered voices.
Such a futile, un-melodious choir of conquered voices.

We have no lights, and we have no candle.
In this country, we really have a lot to handle.
You and I, we both know it takes two to tango and tangle.
But yet and still, I think it's no cause to wrangle.
If we approach them from a positive angle.

Dear brothers, please wake up from slumber.
Lend me your able hand, for together, we shall reach the Promised Land.
Please do not sit on the fence
Offense is the best form of defense.
At first they failed without remorse, our tests.
Instead, they made out of us all, entities of enormous jest.
Their quest is only to quench their domestic thirst whenever they deem best.

By their fruits, they shall be revealed by the wind from the west
This time around, I suggest we do it like the revolution of the Elves.
After then, we can beat our chests,
say aloud to ourselves,
"we have actually done our best"
Maybe then, God will nod and do the rest.