The Hyenas We Follow Poem by Victor Rotich

They make noise as empty drums,
theirs' is only empty talk,
full of nothing but day dreams,
of my land and their money in Swiss.

They command, we do
mistaking us for a loo.
They 'hornbill' with much ado,
claiming to be our voice,
they manipulate our choice.

East to west they sway,
they are divided at day,
but united at night.
Close the bank and they put up a fight.
'We haven't been got right, '
as they frown with might.

With our vote, we can pass a message,
of our tiredness and impatience.
before we become patients,
these chaps must go home,
and we'll be back on track and form,
to fast track reforms!