Prayer for Cameroon Anglophone Poetry

O, Come,
Come O
Muse! Muse!
Come knock at our doors!
We will warm you with the flames,
Anglophone Cameroon burning bright
Under which roof you shall not be in the cold
Leaving your hungry hunters stories to be told.
Muse
O
Muse
Come
O
Come
Hand in glove
We’ll make love
Stain sheets
Take fleets
Free our offspring
No attached string
In a world far from this fashion
One with love and not contention
Not even when you prick
A call with which I click
And pick up my weapon
And with tears of joy mourn
This joyful moment
I would recommend
Should come and stay
So, we don’t stray!
Muse
O
Muse
Come
O
Come
Come and stay with us
Fill our empty purse
Tickle our brain
With windblown train
Whose sound good music make
As our ears’ savoury cake
Like your name so smooth
As you stand for truth
Only our kind die to hear
When crown and mitre wear fear
Forgetting in tears we drown
When they make solid the ground
In which they conceal us poor souls
Dishonouring our totem poles:
Muse
O
Muse
Come
O
Come
Glaze that assassinating mind
Making of it loving and kind
O, Come,
Come O
Muse! Muse!

The Home

Home was fun
With bright sun
And I left home and headed West
And was told that’s where oldies rest
There I went to see for myself
The oldies resting on the shelf
In their home without so much fun
A world in which they are forlorn

The Mad Queen

Carrying her crown of money
She would she swam in honey
When her heart lets flow lava
To turn sweet honey bitter
A fit she reckons is cute
For madness is her repute
Parading darkness by day
Begging sympathy for pay
All true eyes and ears won’t heed
But would get rid of as weed.

The Commoner’s Promise

Not to hold the top of it.
To clean the servant’s shit.
How true is this when truth comes?
Shit he unleashes as comes
With convulsive pleasures
Thrusting rapists’ treasures
And waddle as strongman
Where foundation not man
Needs be mightily strong
To point to him he’s wrong.