Our Leaders Are Dancing [revised] Poem by Margaret Alice Second

Our Leaders Are Dancing [REVISED]
If seeing the world through purple glasses, removing them
means a yellow world in contrast, glasses and trilby makes
me feel like Danny De Vito, a little weasel in “Mars Attacks”;
finished the first check on my long document now letters by
an impoverished group await, claiming a famous granddad
had lots of land, sent this petition for aid so their status can
be heard in court, adding ‘Please also send money for
travel and accommodation’ – parasites

Riding aback of the past, not capable enough to raise own
travel costs, describing their interment project for their very
“famous” granddad while requesting money to do so, rather
mercenary - I’ve had enough of that, wish I could summarily
dismiss fortune-hunters who try to play the racial card, wish
the President knew why Africa is digging its own grave while
our leaders dance, happily fiddling while Africa burns - violins
play in my earphones to drown a colleague’s terrible drone

She believes it is her duty to sing a melody without sweet-
ness - like Africa does - nobody works for the good of the
tribe - only self-enrichment and power-appeal - how they
fail to see the future as opportunity to serve the continent
and achieve Mandela status is utterly beyond me…

7 October 2013