POEM: The Cry of the Youth

BY LAZOLA PAMBO

Was it foolish of me,
to cast my vote for you
on that cold
Saturday morning?
Today, I am still unemployed
after your one hundred
empty promises
and still counting.

My sister is expecting
baby number three,
all the township girls
running away from university,
claiming that
child grants
are the best policy,

My elder brother conformed
by ministering in tavern,
and so today
he is a heavy beer drinker,
an academic of the lager.
Was it fair for you,
to bribe me with liberty
and build a mansion of lies?
Maybe we should rebel,
bring back 1976.
Have I been cast-away?
Oh Mr President,
I want to hear no more lies,
for such an occupation
is fit enough for lawyers,
who do a far
better job at it!

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