HomeAboutTech & BusinessLIFESTYLEPhotography/FashionPOETRY POETRY Mr. Politician! All eyes are on you May 17, 2017
With red eyes, tattered clothes, toned shoes and brown handkerchief sliding allover their faces – they stood with their forehead skin folded as if they were sweat bumps. Their eyes straining from the sun’s rays. They just stood there waiting. The old mothers could be seen on the edges holding their cheeks and others seated on the shuka. The ones with kids were busy unwrapping sweets and biscuits to stop the crying babies from distorting the voice from the podium.
The few guys at the front clapped at every sound that echoed from the podium. The guys in black suits with their unsettled eyes moving left to right as if they were paid compass. Their concentration was off, their sense of fashion was thrown in the ditch, their respect for the weather was at its worst. The hot sun was at its best. But they continued clapping.
The field was silent and a single voice could be heard from the high-tech sound systems. The systems were a clear sign that the system was very rich, and the guys doing the casting were cursing their digestive systems that ironically communicated without any hesitation. Well, everybody was on a mission. And not all systems gained from the torture, or was it?
He stood facing the microphone holding his phone on the right and his big mouth ready to blow the horn. His long smile was close to his height. His trouser was tight but the shirt was too baggy for a person of his size and the hot sun found a place to hide its heat in the unoccupied pockets of his shirt. His shinny face bounced all the light creating a massive crater on the eyes. His shaky hands spoke a silent language that could only be understood by his brain. He kept on looking at his speech each time his hands rose…
“I promise to…
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