This piece of conscious poetry is for Kenya and Zimbabwe, whose definition of democracy is not different as they claim; just African.
-HOT AIR BALOON-
I'd like you to walk this line with me
Think about this flawless being we call democracy…
Consider it first as a big balloon
Filled with gas or better still,
A tonne of hot air.
Then it's sent up to the hazy yet beautiful eyes.
So that we'll be kept busy looking at it
While a bunch of other fellows relentlessly pick our pockets,
Funny that you might crack a smile yet there's nothing funny.
So our impregnated-with-hot-air balloon won't always be aloft;
It comes down to earth every 5 years or so
And you and I are invited to get into its passenger basket.
But there's a catch to this invitation though...
That’s if you can throw out one of the people who sit tightly in it,
So tightly that one feels they're nailed to the basket.
But because you and I can afford neither the time nor the finances
And there's 28 million of us and hardly enough room for about 100 in the basket;
The balloon goes up again with much the same lot in it
And leaves us where we were before…Gazing to the sky hopelessly as our pockets are picked helplessly