All the world is a garden, sadly!
Not Eden for Africa.
Black leafs-snared blow, dawn creation.
Caged skylarks wish for Mecca.
‘sea borders’ murders of our meditation.
The angel of dark sent Crow on a quest for our demise.
To juxtapose black and white. How can we revise?
The black apple fell far from its tree, slavery became-
our emblem! Chained our being!
Raped our souls! Tore our spirits!
Shame oiled our faces.
Our force in a twist for labour.
This, an eternal sombre spring Sun.
revery-hope, their feet in Calvary.
Where was your messiah son?
There is power in the black leaf, but that’s forbidden knowledge.
Lincoln broke the queen’s manacles,
but our minds have become our prisons, no purge.
Our original horizons cannot pinnacles.
Ares and Achlys entered the garden, oh!
No! Sugary sour.
Ours is an Olympus, Zeus, mercy!
Odds don’t favour our hour.
To suppress the black leaf, they wind it off from its pigment.
Confuse its complexion for darkness.
Dislocate its deep-root ligament.
And grant it, weapons of self-destruction of the masses.
The supremacists conceal the history of its label,
hence it spends most time being a rebel.
The Forefathers on the fore have solemnly forsaken
our land. Because western practices have landed.
Then our spirit and psyche begins to sicken,
infidels to our habits, ours cannot be mended.
What if that book is a novel?
Heaven what if, Hell what it?
Living on the edge of, what if everything is, what if?
Seeing that they cannot keep the leaf from growing.
‘They’ speak poverty to its life.
But floppy ears are lidded, sing!
Leopold! Failure was, your rife.
Now their mouths spew diseases and viruses, that’s low.
Like dust, will rise and one day! We are going to overthrow.
Fate’s vengeful eye is fixed at their descendants.
Because Mandela taught us peace,
we cannot render war rents.
The odds shall cut them a piece.
No-wonder ‘Victoria falls’, waters out their presence.
The world at our feet shall render reverence.