By Dikizo the Poet
The old guards plot under moon against our sun’s rise,
Hanging onto borrowed power with outdated guise,
Boasting of checkered experience and faded sacrifice,
Yet youth brew storms of change with a roll of dice
We’ve grown weary of pale tales of their ancient reign,
Whilst modern struggle is against economic strain,
Starved youth – out for the hunt – have grown a mane,
Since brooding in dens proved to be a futile drain
Brothers at arms are no longer swayed by tribal divide,
They fight for a meritocracy guided by laws that abide,
In advocacy for Wanjiku, they sail on the people’s tide,
Yearning for safe harbors and the occasional stride
Across the nation, they mobilize masses to break the yoke,
With a renewed belief in the ballot as the ultimate stroke,
They position themselves as alternatives to the archaic stock,
Ready to invoke the future and liberate from a painful joke
