Give nation a pen,
Let the people infuse it’s only vein
With muted wailings
And excruciating realities,
Allow them to artery thier distress a
And disgrace through it’s ink.
Let it tell the story of a demeaned manhood of a young man
Sinking and shrinking into drugs
Gravitated into corners of the street
Waiting for sunset to envelope his disgrace.
Let the pen connect with a single Woman
And let it’s ink bleed
The recording of her enervated strength.
Let it tell her story,
As she sits all day long,
Plotting the next empty promise,
To her little souls,
With only but empty tummies,
As she glances around,
With only but empty spirit.
Let the ink be a masterpiece
Of a little girl’s soul,
As she shrinks into fear,
Glancing around involuntarily
Waiting for the next dissembling
Of her little innocent puzzle of heart.
Let the pen bleed out through it’s only vein,
Her unspoken fears and pains.
Let it write a story of a young man
Who wakes up daily to witness
Only but the snippets of his dreams
Drifting away from the palm of his hands.
Give the nation a pen
And let it bleed through the ink,
The bitter, twisted realities
Of a little girl with a hilly tummy
Let her write how the empty promises
Shattered her and
Swift her dreams from her hands.
Give old women and let them write to us,
How youth is supposed to live and survive,
When all their sight covers
Is only but the billowing smoke
Of the hope burnt.
May they write to us
where the next generation
Is supposed to land,
When all that is,
Is a dismantled structure of land,
Where lies, deceits and injustices
Are brewn in the leadership chambers.
Give the nation a pen,
But also recall to unlock
The verses infused by
shades of black realities,
Frozen in their veins
And let their arteries connect with the pen
And vomit the unsaid and untold stories.