Kings And Queens Of The Boardroom Poem by Dellas Chitekwe

They arrive late - in tinted cars,
Believing that titles make them stars
Their talk is refined,
But chaos follows close behind.

They sit on swivel thrones of pride,
Where reason's voice is cast aside
Their memos drip with borrowed grace,
Yet sense is lost—without a trace.

They call for 'meetings of great weight'
To 'strategise' and 'evaluate'
Yet all they plan behind closed doors
Are tea breaks, perks, and office wars.

Promotion flows to cousin's kin
While those who work are fenced within;
Merit's corpse is buried deep
While loyalty alone must reap.

Each month they write their 'vision' anew,
But no one can tell what it is that they do;
For under suits and practiced smiles,
Lie empty heads and paper files.

© Dellas Chitekwe 2025