In the distant past those children
Rose to see the Sun shine then
They were far, far away
In the tropics, far away
Where in abundance the Sun would shine
Wherein brought the book, a herd of swine
Weighting a contention
The like of the greatest temptation
And ignoring the sun burn
Whose abundance bodies tan turn
Yet, upholding the whole place dark
And would rush their darkness to this lustrous park!
Dark and dark it wasn’t brethren!
Bright at night it was then
When the Sun gave way to the moon
The alternating sun and moon waited not for noon
And our paths did brighten
And our minds did enlighten
Spot on nature we were whole
Solid society without a loophole
And in their book, they packed their light
And by the time it got to us they’d darken it as night
And what we’d know for many a generation
Was no more than degeneration.
Kings and king makers alike
Fully furnished with spike
Ready for our pens
And would like fowls we keep to our pens
Upset by the state of things
All fancy the downfall of these kings
For the like of a kingdom by the Sun and moon lit
And not like the present with greedy elite
Dragging this beauty that once was
Into a state far, far worse
Not until then, drums shall resound
To feed elites’ ears with hurt and pain that abound
Till on their feet they quake
And quest why their devil did them forsake.
Brightness we need here on earth, here and now
With no doubt as to when, where and how?
Not only universal but free are these rights
And should come without tithes;
No, not tithes, bribes
In line with kings vibes.
24-25/02/08
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
The lion and the lamb
Sheep have every reason to bleat
Spotting wolves around their domain beat
Their feet at the foot of their fence
And how they wish a lion came to their defence!
But the problem seen for the sheep
Is that their forte would never be sleep
In the jungle
With the coarse jingle
From lions’ roar echoing some remote past
Yet, it rives in our world and fast
With lions thinking their manes
The sun of the jungle and the plains
Having finished the rams and the ewes
They blow away their fuse
Now, with just one little lamb
In the whole plain left, the lions with drool flood the dam
Loosing sight of the journey no tongue
Would tell and oblivious of the orphan’s recital of a song
For this to come transport him to the land of glory;
His dream place to join ancestors in the rank of history
And happy too for the lion would tell of the last lamb
And the lion without prey would raise an alarm
And this won’t be heard in the jungle
Not even when it be the loudest jingle.
25/02/08
Spotting wolves around their domain beat
Their feet at the foot of their fence
And how they wish a lion came to their defence!
But the problem seen for the sheep
Is that their forte would never be sleep
In the jungle
With the coarse jingle
From lions’ roar echoing some remote past
Yet, it rives in our world and fast
With lions thinking their manes
The sun of the jungle and the plains
Having finished the rams and the ewes
They blow away their fuse
Now, with just one little lamb
In the whole plain left, the lions with drool flood the dam
Loosing sight of the journey no tongue
Would tell and oblivious of the orphan’s recital of a song
For this to come transport him to the land of glory;
His dream place to join ancestors in the rank of history
And happy too for the lion would tell of the last lamb
And the lion without prey would raise an alarm
And this won’t be heard in the jungle
Not even when it be the loudest jingle.
25/02/08
Mare Providers
Fascination and awe grace repugnance for a lion
Be him in or out of his dominion
His characteristic strength to kill,
And he dexterously does with a thrill
Sending home a chill down the spine of the sleeper
Frozen by thoughts of terror provider proper
Found in lion kings like Suharto,
Polpot, Paul Biya, Momo, Nguesso, Bongo, Sese-seko…
The one and only thing none will stand to look,
A thing to make a nation puke
For the king is a lion in rage
Wanting in and mimicking lions’ courage
Desolately in the marshes
Where he for the preys searches.
26/02/08
Be him in or out of his dominion
His characteristic strength to kill,
And he dexterously does with a thrill
Sending home a chill down the spine of the sleeper
Frozen by thoughts of terror provider proper
Found in lion kings like Suharto,
Polpot, Paul Biya, Momo, Nguesso, Bongo, Sese-seko…
The one and only thing none will stand to look,
A thing to make a nation puke
For the king is a lion in rage
Wanting in and mimicking lions’ courage
Desolately in the marshes
Where he for the preys searches.
26/02/08
Scavengers
You, you, you, and you see them as filthy filth
No doubt they live off the filth
But these scavengers need be treated with love
Not because they’re stronger than the dove.
You, you, you, and you may not see the reason
Yet, in this nation lions hang on trees for “treason”.
And Vultures flap their wings and send through the air
Fragrances and freshness all would wear and bear;
And when from their thrones lions with joy
Accomplish their favorite ploy
Albeit sick and unfit to rule
In the game they fix the rule;
Slitting the throat of a prey
And it is then that vultures prey
Cleaning the gory scenes of our pavement,
Driving the quest for anything more useful to environment;
Some big fat cat do too no doubt
With Blake’s, my family totem, making me proud
But not in seeing them strife on the living,
Not even when for them this rhymes with surviving.
No doubt they live off the filth
But these scavengers need be treated with love
Not because they’re stronger than the dove.
You, you, you, and you may not see the reason
Yet, in this nation lions hang on trees for “treason”.
And Vultures flap their wings and send through the air
Fragrances and freshness all would wear and bear;
And when from their thrones lions with joy
Accomplish their favorite ploy
Albeit sick and unfit to rule
In the game they fix the rule;
Slitting the throat of a prey
And it is then that vultures prey
Cleaning the gory scenes of our pavement,
Driving the quest for anything more useful to environment;
Some big fat cat do too no doubt
With Blake’s, my family totem, making me proud
But not in seeing them strife on the living,
Not even when for them this rhymes with surviving.
Change
Poets love, adore and cherish change
The junky in the streets would he had some change
So is it for the punk
As well as with the drunk
These poor souls would never see its sunrise
And the poet calling for one pays the price
For any such call
Standing him above the head tall;
Yet, change the throne would die for
Change the holy ground would it had four
If poets and people in the streets
See it far from anything coins and sheets
The throne and the mitre would embrace it in their pocket
To wield might and shoot like a rocket.
Toeing political lines one dreamer dreamt of this
And in the streets, all identified as his
For with him, might would visit them thus
And help sweep away obsolescence and its boss
When from the enterprise hurtled in a chide
And with him people were dubbed mad Xerox bona fide.
Given the folks do the desire nurse and see the difference
No care should be ministered the word game reference
And would the first estate put reason to motion
And stop hugging status quo to brandish and wield emotion
And with our hearts the People would relish the drink of change
Were it to come from the streets, the valleys or the mountain range
Real change the dream
And all would it flows like a stream
Or drop down like some fruits
Off trees with melodious sounds streaming from conduits
Driving fruit flies insane
To leave the place free of pain.
23/02/08
The junky in the streets would he had some change
So is it for the punk
As well as with the drunk
These poor souls would never see its sunrise
And the poet calling for one pays the price
For any such call
Standing him above the head tall;
Yet, change the throne would die for
Change the holy ground would it had four
If poets and people in the streets
See it far from anything coins and sheets
The throne and the mitre would embrace it in their pocket
To wield might and shoot like a rocket.
Toeing political lines one dreamer dreamt of this
And in the streets, all identified as his
For with him, might would visit them thus
And help sweep away obsolescence and its boss
When from the enterprise hurtled in a chide
And with him people were dubbed mad Xerox bona fide.
Given the folks do the desire nurse and see the difference
No care should be ministered the word game reference
And would the first estate put reason to motion
And stop hugging status quo to brandish and wield emotion
And with our hearts the People would relish the drink of change
Were it to come from the streets, the valleys or the mountain range
Real change the dream
And all would it flows like a stream
Or drop down like some fruits
Off trees with melodious sounds streaming from conduits
Driving fruit flies insane
To leave the place free of pain.
23/02/08
Jungle Lions
With leaden mane they laze
In their craze
In the Sahara and its South. In numbers here and there
Heading prides, the unselected few in the fields where
The cob lions adore using as their playground,
And looking up to the elders to turn things around
Heads of prides pride themselves kings of the jungle
And all would a melody from their roar jingle
But they wish all waited a while
As they for all, would time kill and whirl.
By them, they are the strongmen of their territory
And for many cobs they are the object of genuine pity
For they define their territory by such delusional names
Reflecting one of their favorite games:
Libreville or Freetown translating Prisonville or Prisontown
For there they keep all subjects down
And subjects with their known tragic flaw
Obeying and abiding by the law
And forgetting where the law is lawless
Its heads and its forces enjoy obeisance less
To their pleasure or displeasure
And the People should take the measure
To assure the jingo does not cloud their minds
For it only serves as blinds
Screening the sun from providing vitamins
And stealing taste from the desired sacraments.
The lions lazing behind the pennon blast
Their music and would on to power cling to the last
And by such prefixes affix their names
As they with zeal burn like flames
Burning and burning the joys of all
Until the nations’ complete fall
As they their ground stand
And subjects would they could understand
The unreason driving the head lions mad
Declaring their Excellencies; sad, indeed sad!
22/02/08
In their craze
In the Sahara and its South. In numbers here and there
Heading prides, the unselected few in the fields where
The cob lions adore using as their playground,
And looking up to the elders to turn things around
Heads of prides pride themselves kings of the jungle
And all would a melody from their roar jingle
But they wish all waited a while
As they for all, would time kill and whirl.
By them, they are the strongmen of their territory
And for many cobs they are the object of genuine pity
For they define their territory by such delusional names
Reflecting one of their favorite games:
Libreville or Freetown translating Prisonville or Prisontown
For there they keep all subjects down
And subjects with their known tragic flaw
Obeying and abiding by the law
And forgetting where the law is lawless
Its heads and its forces enjoy obeisance less
To their pleasure or displeasure
And the People should take the measure
To assure the jingo does not cloud their minds
For it only serves as blinds
Screening the sun from providing vitamins
And stealing taste from the desired sacraments.
The lions lazing behind the pennon blast
Their music and would on to power cling to the last
And by such prefixes affix their names
As they with zeal burn like flames
Burning and burning the joys of all
Until the nations’ complete fall
As they their ground stand
And subjects would they could understand
The unreason driving the head lions mad
Declaring their Excellencies; sad, indeed sad!
22/02/08
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Close to the Heart
Do the right thing and always be polite
Mum sang and stuck right and polite to my heart tight
In my cradle. I grew up to our fathers’ cradle see
And the heads would these words live across the sea.
O, sweet cradle, a quarter century in your sight
For that quarter century I watched the fight
In which two divine rights knaves would slay
Peace and freedom warriors just to stay.
Another near quarter century out of your sight
My ears drank full tales of the fight
And you, in mind and sight, I did bear all the time
And you even paid me visits by day and at bedtime;
And like the tales told to us by parents at night;
Tales of giants, Cyclopes, amputees & monsters of dreadful height,
The tales you bring of the knaves tell of gore
Sealing mouths of words short, filling the heart with sore.
The stab mirrors the plight
’N invite to make it light
Yet, all attempts lasted a while
And the effort and time were worthwhile.
All this while the knaves proclaimed their might
Building for all, four sturdy walls of fright
Within which the masses heaped in a pile
Squirm and scream to rend them senile.
The knaves in their dream made a giant stride
Until they caught the masses having a joy ride
Stalling all their cheap quest for fame,
Drumming them the music of shame
And now we no longer sit and bide
Waiting for the messiah to alight
But have to dance to every tune but blues
And not eschew but savour all with no spews
This has to be done from morning till night
And has to be done till the wrong is right
Flat must be made all the hills that on our way
Stood, and the muddle of the gore swept away.
The world might have viewed our cause as a trite
Yet, the undoing at the end, our source of pride
And we now borne a smile
That we carry in grand style.
Enlightened, the nation joined without fright
And aboard a ship we did freight
The blood spilling knaves and lackeys to other lands
Rekindling joys in the nation’s heart and stilling the old bands.
12/02/08
Mum sang and stuck right and polite to my heart tight
In my cradle. I grew up to our fathers’ cradle see
And the heads would these words live across the sea.
O, sweet cradle, a quarter century in your sight
For that quarter century I watched the fight
In which two divine rights knaves would slay
Peace and freedom warriors just to stay.
Another near quarter century out of your sight
My ears drank full tales of the fight
And you, in mind and sight, I did bear all the time
And you even paid me visits by day and at bedtime;
And like the tales told to us by parents at night;
Tales of giants, Cyclopes, amputees & monsters of dreadful height,
The tales you bring of the knaves tell of gore
Sealing mouths of words short, filling the heart with sore.
The stab mirrors the plight
’N invite to make it light
Yet, all attempts lasted a while
And the effort and time were worthwhile.
All this while the knaves proclaimed their might
Building for all, four sturdy walls of fright
Within which the masses heaped in a pile
Squirm and scream to rend them senile.
The knaves in their dream made a giant stride
Until they caught the masses having a joy ride
Stalling all their cheap quest for fame,
Drumming them the music of shame
And now we no longer sit and bide
Waiting for the messiah to alight
But have to dance to every tune but blues
And not eschew but savour all with no spews
This has to be done from morning till night
And has to be done till the wrong is right
Flat must be made all the hills that on our way
Stood, and the muddle of the gore swept away.
The world might have viewed our cause as a trite
Yet, the undoing at the end, our source of pride
And we now borne a smile
That we carry in grand style.
Enlightened, the nation joined without fright
And aboard a ship we did freight
The blood spilling knaves and lackeys to other lands
Rekindling joys in the nation’s heart and stilling the old bands.
12/02/08
Friday, February 8, 2008
African Politics
When yesteryears there was rain,
And it rained hard out raining the drain,
Turning our villages into a disaster zone
Our fathers of nations in the rains found a bone
A bone of contention
To kill anything Opposition….
This year when it rained and blessed the crop
Our fathers of nations wrought by nature so corrupt
Turned this into a miraculous work of theirs
Against the resistance with their flood generating fears!
Again, today the sun shone
And the opposition was not shown
With that accusing finger
And guess what? It made the villagers’ day better!
And who else could have brought such a smile
That across the nation stretches for many a mile?
Our fathers of the nations
Not the dreadful oppositions…!
This is our clean politics
And if you doubt,
With a pout
We embrace praises, not critics’ !
And it rained hard out raining the drain,
Turning our villages into a disaster zone
Our fathers of nations in the rains found a bone
A bone of contention
To kill anything Opposition….
This year when it rained and blessed the crop
Our fathers of nations wrought by nature so corrupt
Turned this into a miraculous work of theirs
Against the resistance with their flood generating fears!
Again, today the sun shone
And the opposition was not shown
With that accusing finger
And guess what? It made the villagers’ day better!
And who else could have brought such a smile
That across the nation stretches for many a mile?
Our fathers of the nations
Not the dreadful oppositions…!
This is our clean politics
And if you doubt,
With a pout
We embrace praises, not critics’ !
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