The Season for Treason

There is desperation,
in the ranks of the mighty,
heightened by suspicion,
of allegiances flighty,
a gnawing need for consolidation,
of power held lightly.

A battle was thus waged,
through 'Constructive resignation',
In the courts it raged,
amidst public consternation,
and the Veep was caged,
in a web of humiliation,

Now, there's a new season,
or so I'm told,
for the abandonment of reason,
and violations bold,
through charges of treason,
and arrests manifold.

So, where do we go from here?
what will the future bring?
Do we regress into fear?
or let our hearts sing?
The costs may be dear,
and our resolve may cringe,
But the choices are clear,
The Bells of Freedom Must Ring!!!
Your Voice of Freedom Must Sing!!!

Life's a Bitch

My ripe old age of 54 years,
Says I've been around,
Seen the glint of Mother's tears,
For the child that can't be found,
Felt the hunger and the fear,
Tilling infertile ground,
Offered fervent prayers dear,
Unbalanced mind unsound,

Seen people wither and waste,
In man made starvation,
Watched style and taste,
Amidst dire desperation,
Been frenzied in haste,
For extra sensation,

I look at the various scams,
With horror and shame,
Is it just a sham,
Or part of a game,
Does no-one give a damn
Are we all the same?

Yeah, it's in the stitch,
There's always a pitch,
You gotta watch for the ditch,
You can't scratch every itch,
Shit! Life's a bitch!

Here We Are

Here we are,
Dear Friends,
Here we are,
To analyse trends,
From near and afar,
make amends,
and fill the cookie jar.

We make orotund perorations,
In sumptuous surroundings,
Deliver exhortations,
Noblesse resounding,
Mingle exhalation,
With high hopes abounding.

Dreamy schemes,
Will come to naught,
Poverty is the theme,
And millions are caught,
Papers in reams,
And fees are sought

Make your pitch,
And count the score,
Rich is rich and poor is poor,
One must be rich to not be poor,
There's the hitch,
Now where's the door?

Rafiq Hajat