Yes, Guilty As Charged Poem by segun Johnson Ozique

The conventional democratic governance
Of the sort in the African dark wood-neck
Is but imitation: A replication, fabrication
Cooked, sculpted and seasoned like of other;
Of masquerading shepherds and guardians:
Propped on stool of wobbly legged trinity;
First of twisted and fraudulent managers,
Fragrance by House of bungling bigots
And, by indecorous gown wearing rascal
Sustained by fourth estate of pro pen pushers;
Booth-lickers prized to shade these wardens
Dressing them in gown of good eternalness
Even in barefaced wanton vampirism; even as
They stroll in carnivals, mouth filled with blood.
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