Charles Jagongo Ogola
With heads falling like cattle fodder
Cut to clear your path to crown
Your kinsmen’s deathly anticipation
Cleared your way to the throne.
You dined with them, the skulls of horror
Human feelings lost to lust for power
Oblivious of the chief prosecutors’ net
Fishing in your bloody territory for clues
Though as you laugh with mirth over thorny crown
Knowing well of souls you sank,
You have account to make at the ICC.
That they never tasted freedom
Their choice, hopes all went in smoke
That you make journeys campaigning for African freedom
From what, who and, why not you?
My heart sinks, your bloody hand
Chokes their voices,
Yes, Mr. Hague’s Guest.
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