Shadows Of The Future

A generation, blinded with a false composure,

short lived as the tales of the wild,

spoken with the breeze, a blend with the dark in the wild,

over a flickering ball of wood fire,

punctuated with crackles of the dry wood that fuels the fire...




An excitement, a wave

sweeps through the pockets of the young,

a lure to a decision so dire they joke about it,

a few notes and they sell their acclamation,

a slice of the big pie and they sell their hearts,

mkono mtupu haulambwi




They stare at the blank horizon with pregnant eyes,

Halfway into the five year term,

All they see of him is his sleeping figure on telly,

And him yelling at his allies,

And him in scandals concerning billions

While they contemplate on the forgotten pennies,

Worth a meal and enslavement of a while




Their hopes, once tucked in their hearts, sink low in their tummies,

a sight to behold, a moment to meditate up on,

buy me yoga pants, watch me flex my muscles,

watch how flexible their hearts are,

watch my eyes close and chest heave,

that's how their priorities battle for the top,




Shadows of the future, light from the past,

blind to both, open to bribes,

blind to the silent treatment they'll get for half a decade,

open to the loud empty promises at the moment,

a blank horizon, to those happy in their dreams,

A bright scene of the sun kissing the horizon,

To those making the dreams