(Emanuel Mwangi).

When they come from the city,
Breathing money within their vicinity,
With a plethora of promises so empty,
Abscond their gatherings utterly.

Of politicians who speak,
With much conviction like a priest,
But with deep naivety of an infant,
We will protest if in power they remain.

Even if they bribe us,
And beg us during their damned campaigns,
We will not praise to please,
But let them wallow in chronic remorse.

My fellow countrymen,
If they again say electricity is on the way,
Do not wait to mock the lie,
Do not respond to their slogans,
When they arrive from the city.

We still have dry taps,
Potholed roads since previous elections,
As they fart and laugh in the big city,
But when we rant they turn and nod.

As they rant to manipulate us,
Do not accept to be divided,
By tearing each other apart,
With the dreadful daggers of hatred and sharp knives of ethnicity.
Of bleeding a leech to fatten a heifer,
As poverty gnaws the fabrics of the society,
Little do they know time tires the poor,
We will have nothing else to feed on but them.

With time...