MONOPOLY

Doctors
Doctors
What are you made of?
The most amiable profession
Stood the test of time,
Hence, you receive homage
From all other professions
Traditional and modern
Doctors!

Be it the clergy
Questioned is their authenticity
A manifestation of absurdism
Be it the Gentlemen of the robe
All over known for deception,
Mistrust fills the air
The various courts of appeal;
Mutual agreement – an alien phenomenon
Be it the fourth estate,
Runners of propaganda
10% fact, the other, rhetoric
Is it why, “No news is good news?”
Be it the engineers
Juxta-satisfaction
Due to man’s insatiability
Yet, these doctors
Never rejected, always trusted!

You pay them not for their duty
“I am sorry, this is out of hand”
And the patient will pay!
Corruption de-facto
They give false assurances
And proclaim their false hood
To the content of the client!
Isn’t that funny?
“We tried our best!”
What charm is there
That is not there
When used as excuse
For the disappointed scholars?
What vituperation!

From top to bottom
Level or place
The doctors are gods
They speak to the soul
They hold the staff
They, thus, light or put out the candle
They are, whatsoever, the just
Their patients don’t appeal, no, never
It is them who refer
Oh! The rank and consequence they enjoy!
Surely, you doctors are
The flower of the flock
All professions have
Castigated inefficiencies
But doctors have the antidote
After all, they are
DOCTORS!
©Atwine Mugisha