A few wealthy men,
Running around with power,
Laughing in the face of poverty,
Dressed in green and white and green;

A few powerful men,
Strutting around with fat wallets,
Sharing promises to the hopeless,
Allocating lies dressed in dishonesty;

A lot of angry people,
Hungry for something to believe in,
Never known a life of meaning,
Desperate for the chance of a lifetime.

Grinding, grinding, grinding,
Held by the hand of fate,
Around the dimming of faith,
When hope is difficult to operate in;

There is visible resistance at play,
The pestle strains, demands to be held tightly,
Unyielding stones protest vehemently,
Progress is hard, fine result ages away;

Everything is working in opposition,
Nothing is lending support in the other direction,
Many months after an emotionally charged election,
Very little is left to the imagination;

But something must give,
Now, or later,
The former, better,
All in, all in! Live!

I try, really I do,
Not to bring to mind,
That you are no more,
That I'll never see you again;

Your passive instructions guide me,
And the active one keep me going,
Your memory continues to ginger me!
All of which are clean, clear and unblemished.

At times like this I take solace,
In the cheer that you went away gallant,
Not wishing us any bother at all,
Strong, very strong, until the very end.

Sometimes the skies aren't bright,
And things seem not alright,
The misalignment of the stars,
And success held behind bars;

Then the sun shines again,
And we're not reminded of our pain,
Glory to the heavens!
For the renewal of the seasons!

Someplace, around the corner,
There, where my mind struggles,
Trying to make sense of it all,
Many questions remain unanswered;

I remember receiving that call,
Out of the blue on that fateful day,
They called out to you, severally,
But you had answered a higher one;

Not a day changes from sunrise to sundown,
That I do not reflect what could have been,
How thoae last minutes actually played through,
Where you in pain, or really felt nothing;

Rest on, my mother,
Friend to all,
Enemy to none,
A beautiful soul like no other.

everything becomes mercurial,
across the land tempers rage,
the king has made his declaration,
subject only to the gods of the land;

for when you fail to truly educate,
the mind absorbs whate'er it will,
discerning between intent and action,
is necessary for reaction or circumspection;

but here we are,
yet again, at the familiar crossroads,
to the right or to take a left about-face,
to kick evil in the rear or kiss the devil.

for many ran on fumes,
these few years,
living daily on hope,
and nothing else;

a great number wanted,
but the heavens never granted,
the privilege to see aturn in the tide,
to the dearly departed, sleep on;

and for the quick,
welcome to making history,
a rare opportunity to be amongst,
the countable, the reachable, the available;

whatever it is worth,
the next four can never be as darkly,
as the eight spent in vast backwardness,
time truly deserving to be forgotten;

but for the lessons learnt ,
nothing nostalgic of the cowtostrophic era,
every single element will get what is deserving,
karma always finds a way;

and for the hopeful many,
may your aspirations meet rapid improvements,
because today marks a departure from irreverence,
into days and nights of renewed hope.