My Motherland Poem by John Sensele

Clerics in full pastoral regalia roll up their sleeves
To hobnob with bigwig politicians
Over peace in the motherland
Where hotheads with no better agenda
Than to lick boots and swill vats of beer
Lick their lips to quench an insatiable thirst.


The desire to quench perceived youths' thirst
Ought to imbue youths to roll up their sleeves
Till the land, innovate while sipping beer.
Youths ought to cajole politicians
Into formulating and initiating a rich agenda
With a plethora of plans and synergies to develop the motherland.

Loyalty and total commitment to propelling the motherland
Into a proud and prosperous nation in which hunger and thirst
Won't feature and where Zambians dream of an agenda
That reminds and enjoins politicians
To shy away from the base culture of free beer.

A nation with a penchant for substance abuse, beer
Addiction and a proclivity for violence soon ceases to be a motherland
Because her most abled-bodied human capital and politicians
Peddle trivia, platitudes under the guise of thirst
Quenching instead of rolling up their sleeves
To exploit opportunities and resources as the sole agenda.

To list unfunny jokes and fill pettiness on the national agenda
In which hedonism, ego-tripping and illicit beer
Brewing hold sway instead of rolling up sleeves
To develop the motherland
Prevent disease, kill illiteracy, hunger, poverty and thirst
Ought to engage full time all Zambian politicians.

Save Zambia, politicians!
Draw up a national reconciliation agenda
With synergies in all key areas of national planning devoid of beer
But with a clear roadmap to propel the motherland
Into a developed country where Zambians are forever rolling up collective sleeves.

Patriotic politicians can't afford to dispense beer
At the expense of promoting a national agenda that flies the motherland
In azure blue skies devoid of thirst where citizens' prime concern consists of rolling up sleeves.