Poetry

THE STORM

Guka’a Gilliet 

It did heat from the core

till the tides became sore. 
Then the vessel could no longer contain
so did the storm commence. 

They had all pretended

but the pretence all depended
on the daily condition of lies
which became to the flesh, nails. 

In Africa, it commenced from the North.

Power monger departed with haste.
Bloody masses took over the street
as the storm came along with heat. 

The storm blew in the Muslim world

To change the “royal democracy” of old.
Freedom, freedom, cried the oppressed
as they marched along too obsessed.

Then you could hear the gun fire.
Corpses, the stakes were high.
They shed the blood of many
as the fight of change tarried  

In the Centre of Africa was another.

The storm was fierce like the monster.
Demo-dictator denied defeat.
The powerful storm still took the lead.

As fast as ever it rushed over,

restoring democracy like a Dover.
But the fear of the storm lingered
as Demo-dictators all around shivered.

The change shall be gradual

As the storm retreats to observe
Then democracy shall prevail
over the power of Dictatorship.