Democracy Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

And will there be Democracy,
where words are blown to pieces,
same as people who would speak
instead of praying on a mat
of peaceful colour, knitted with
the fibres of explosives and despair?

What once emerged with hope
for man to live together
in harmony of spirit and of liberty,
where no man be a tyrant
it is abused, shamefully used
for there can never be
a true Democracy
without much opium for the people,
one cannot have divergence
and inequality, without a ruler
who would make Dictatorship
a pleasant household word.

Remember Bill the Conqueror
and the WITAM, a council which,
for many, did decide their fate,
it was composed of noble men
who knew the truth of all the truths.
Today, take Ghana and Zimbabwe
with thug Mugabe, look at Iraq.

If there are differences
between the people
it sparks ambition
and leaves Democracy
an empty dream.
It is the rationale of hope, unfounded,
that Jesus Christ will soon return,
to be the ruler of utmost perfection
without a democratic thought
in sight between all manners of horizons.