Say it not,
Muscles to rest,ballooned bellies rumble
Under the moon, from inside within the spaces,
Stars seen, before the slumber awakes and conqor
Just a glimpse, it wears out, east rays rule the dew
School day, my thoughts haunt than reality
I let my pen utter shades of anger and fearless rage
Fused, mixed, mastered with eager, just to shake red flags
Mmmh, what a vission to end in unwelcomed suprising tears
What a goal that lends a bird no feather? broken to the foot
Meaningless, effortless, useless and tiresome
Of all the assorted, scribled and jotted lines witnessed
Failed to prevail a dying piece of art, delicate for wastage
Foot stool, I smile, let it pass, till I squize the last page of my art book
Preferred to stay anonymous, afraid to announce it all, which audience??
Even papa forsees it, you? There is no shakespear in Africa
What about Ata Aidoo?, Chinua?
I had a test, danced to the melody of their succes
Born and bred, blewed and scented black,
the golden complexion had some recipes
West side had some benefits,
Africa was re-united, Malawi, recognised and fruitful
Lubadiri at his peak,tested the pinacle of his pen, straight out, copacetic
Where is it all? What really went wrong?
They all wrote and spoke an allien language,
They never found no beauty in their own reflection…sad
But… Even if they could, who could listen?
Hated the native language, triggering an aggressive destructive flame
And so were the 90’s, stripped their language, their religion, their country,
Thei race and their ego…..
The stanzas touched everybody, the qoates healed nations
They prayed for the broken hearted,
They prayed for the life not started,
They prayed for the souls in need,
Yes and yes poetry saved the world for centuries
‘The oddsey and Illiad’ Homer could be brought back to life…
Where is it all? What went wrong? We only deep hands and move on,
Reciting the phrase; poetry used to taste different
After classes, back at the spot,
What else remain Unexplored?
What corner have I not searched?
We lost a valueble culture and identity
Twisted, hopeless,confused, paranoid
The darkness conqured the future
Leaders eat without getting condemned
No song or poem fully write
Pain inflicted or endured
The innocent in jail beaten behind bars
And so are the women behind closed doors
liitle girls raped to the bonebone,
Papa must have been right,
The work may not induce others
The devices may only be disastrous
I was there when he told me ”here? there is no reading culture”
Poetry slipped our fingers,we diluted the healing flavor
But then,my instincts smells it different
Not all hope is gone, the tree was cut and so the branches,
We shall become,
gone is the night, rising is the dawn
I shall keep on writing, never let it sink
for paper doesn’t refuse ink
Daliso! Daliso! wake up!
And I smile knowing a new day is alive
Mother got something on the table
Colourful achievements starts the same way