Ah! Probity in our polity
Like an orphan crown prince -
Wanting in mettle and muscle
To hold his own
Against a brute impostor
Wily and uncouth;

‘Tis like a fragile corn sprout
With roots writhing for room
Mid tangling tufts of spear grass
Its foliage fresh but frail
Gasping and squirming
For air and a shaft of sun
‘Mid lush elephant grass.

They say we have a say
In how it ought to be
And that we have a choice
Of who should say our say
Often in days of yore
We took them at their word
But our faith would fade and fail
At their wearying wantonness

Now they’re here again
Repentance on their lips
And a crowd of witnesses
Urges another try
So we part with apathy
And come queuing again

Him that a snake has bitten
A millipede doth frighten
I see behind the booth
The leopard poised to pounce
His spots are all but changing,
His paws know naught but preying.

Would that they took this chance
For where their likes have wrought
The choice always has been
‘Twixt ballots in the boxes
And bullets in the bushes
And though the ears be plugged
The songbird’s song is sung

Victor Epie’Ngome