Quadrennial rituals
of avowals and disavowals
all too soon forgotten.
This clime
is a placid observer
of the endless parades of recycled faces
attired in costumes
locals treated as yokels
are accustomed to:
overflowing garbs
concealing rotund parts
ill-fitted khakis brazenly exposed.
Men of yore
who seek relevance today
to dull our memories of
all the yesterdays
bungled with ineptitude
ridden slipshod on avarice.
Insatiable folks
disguised as crusaders
in wedlock with the tyrants of old:
a hybrid
of gluttonous minds
atop putrid thrones
ravaged
by cankers
of ethnic schisms.
Chukuemeka Akpe
April 2003©
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem