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Ignatius Hosiana Feb 2016
My heart will never cease to bleed
I'll never stop thinking about the life they lead
My soul will keep aching for them in need
toiling for another half a decade due to them with greed
my eyes will never cease to see their deed
and ponder why did them,God have to seed
my feet are tired of wishing they could go an extra mile
maybe take some gunfire, burn for my country man to smile
my back is broken by the weight of my rage
it's a fire that isn't dying out, will I ever turn the page?
I'm stuck in a labyrinth of contemplation
wondering what other illness awaits my nation
besides ignorance, illiteracy, corruption,tyranny and fear
& much more, yet I still appreciate hailing from mid the sphere
There's a throb rooted deep in my mind
pondering what on earth could make one so unkind
I hope someday to injustice I'll be blind
I hope a day will come when I'll leave behind
these whys,hows, whats and whens like it never was
I hope time heals all wounds as the saying goes
otherwise I believe the cut is deep and infested
  by the loathing for everyone who stood by a government
we badly wanted away and a system we detested
I've tried to have the pain excreted but it's all digested
it's overdue and getting me dizzy due to the ferment
the memory is fresh, the election a forgotten torment
to some but to many like me it's here,it's every moment
it's that grass thatched house at angle theta or beta
it's the agony of the teacher, doctor & whoever's bitter
it's a sting worse than a cut by a banister's wrong splinter
it's the south pole in juxtaposition to winter
it's that malnourished barefooted child battling a jigger
it's the starving,and those plagued by poverty with food but meagre
from my position this wasn't a loss to the opposition
it was a golden chance ripped off the feeble hands of the next generation
a robbery in plain sight,hit below the belt in our fight
my fingers will never tire of typing about this plight
for the crested crane was shot midway her flight
fooled to go to the polls and defiled worse than a little girl
my prowess will but always demand for a piece
about the day we totally lost the beautiful pearl
and thence not a single heart ever knew true peace
not the losers as we have been falsely accused
but worse, not kigundu and many more who were used
For God and My Country Uganda
(please sorry if anyone is bothered... it's just a hard time and only this way can I truly pine)
Ignatius Hosiana Feb 2016
The drums of change are sounding
the willing Hearts no longer astounding
Yes,change has taken longer than we wished
and in that gap there's so much for which we've wished
the dreams we once had and forced to kiss goodbye
the unemployed and poor loitering,
orphaned Children as they cry
Little wonder we all want to partake what change is offering
We've seen them all over the streets, the black mambas
Yet that won't deter us from turning up in numbers
I only have one vote, so do you and remember
the warmth of dawn in the night unless you light an ember
can't be felt, so play wisely with the hand you're dealt
Don't waste that vote, unless you
do trying to make our country better
You have seen with your own naked eyes
How many a mother helpless in an abandoned hospital lies
you have once or twice hit a *** hole & hurt your waist
heard promises every other term but nothing happened
Be glad a new door has finally opened
You still have the key to change, a vote you shouldn't waste
Try change, conservatism has but failed
Nothing changes, trust me if nothing changes
don't be the reason why even future generations are jailed
Don't sell your vote unless they are paying a generation
don't listen to their prattles and unclear history narration
let them not throw jargons such as enclave
and in excitement you make your country their slave
the time is now, you have one vote don't waste it
We've seen them before, the black mambas
We're not afraid anymore, we shall turn up in numbers
this is the road to a new beginning and we shall walk
enough is enough, we no longer have time for mere talk
my vote is the seed for the future shed of a palm tree
For God,for God,for God and my country

— The End —