Song For A Bit More Of Air Poem by Gabriel Eshun

Song For A Bit More Of Air

Rating: 3.5


The election is up again
You project your arms to blast others sweat won appellations…
That you see leviathans lingering around and that’s your whys…
Now the election is over…a baton is handed over to you
But you know you need to court moonsmiles to cool
The sunfires you spitted through hearts of lilies
That was Lips Service…

The election is up again
You are overlooking gold of monuments of oppositions
And you are overlooking harvest of truths of an incumbent
Are balloon oratories the flowers of superb election strategies?
Now the election is over…a baton is handed over to you
But your heart if it has oxygen must pump upstairs naked
That was Lips Service…

The election is up again
You document proactive moves are must to the carbon footprints…
You document to green paths of minds is your piece de résistance
Now the election is over…a baton is handed over to you
But you are horseback to branded items from the global village
And oh under the redcarpets hide your damn green matters
That was Lips Service…

The election is up again
You deem you will tie the knot with the rule of law faithfully
Of course there is need for this matrimony to crush anthills…
To ensure sprouting of wisdom teeth to democratic jaws
Now the election is over…a baton is handed over to you
But you play a bat to architects seeking for extensions…
That was Lips Service…

The election is up again
You play saxophones of empowering of pipes of subalterns
With suns and moons of pollens many keep your posters aglow
Now the election is over…a baton is handed over to you
But they behold fourlegs exponential like nanotechnologies
Oh jump over their potholes with zeitgeist of foxes
That was Lips Service…

The election is up again
You mount open mikes with trenchant shouts of a shepherd
Zealous to lead to village livelihoods wandering like Fulani cows?
Now the election is over…a baton is handed over to you
But your sun shows penchant for safaris of aerodynamics
Oh the vox populi of the thumb-printers reach your orbits
That was Lips Service…


The election is up again and you flaunt a talisman of taking no prisons
Akin to an aura of a mandibular-engineered marble on
Stretched wrappers of building powder
Now the election is over…a baton is handed over to you
But what is that you are busy connecting like Ananse in sleeping kitchen?
That was Lip Service…

Oh beware you-know-what honourables
Do you like cobras see yourselves clean looking
By divesting your suits today
For fresh but with identical patterns tomorrow?
Oh the slices of Machiavellian you fork in shall
Meet the accountabilities of the Renaissance maturing on our politicalfields…
Maturing Maturing MATURING!

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