The relatives we left ekhaya have bewitched us They have left the left and haven’t believed us Our bucolic kindred have killed us.
They have brewed and brought brazen brawl, created commotion and corruption, Yes, years of inflation and dictation Through the monster they elected duly, On the thirty first of July.
By Hloliphani Moyo
It was neither an enchantment
From a shrine-like compartment
Nor a random rural ritual
Released by rustic rural residents.
Rather, it was a reckless re-election of rogue rascals.
Behind that cursed polling booth,
They made an appalling decision
To take decisions of fiscal division
Into the hands of economic dissidents.
The least and last informed, performed the political rite Which buried our critical rights.
Broad daylight witchcraft.
They sold the Zimbabwean soul to Lucifer.
Not for thirty pieces of silver,
But for thirty kgs of seed.
The wicked witchery in treachery,
Archery on our hurt hearts
With poisoned political darts.
Universal suffrage sought universal suffering.
It brought a hopeless, helpless and hapless life.
I salute our American colleagues,
For basing their elections on colleges.
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