When my voice dies
Speak, my pen speak
When my hands fail to pull the strings
Speak, my pen speak
...
© Peter Lungile Chidothe
Hail the king, hail the king, you dwellers of all kind
Be gentle, be still, for here he comes
...
©Peter Lungile Chidothe
Has the night blended sweet and sour?
Of beauty that catches the eye
...
©Peter Lungile Chidothe
Some roads; less travelled
Some, you're going to travel alone
...
Am sorry for the pain
Like a paper in my hand...I thought I had a
pen
So like ink the words just flow
...
Let them come
Let them fly
There are no butterflies tonight
Just you and me
...
It is once in a blue moon
I see a blue moon
When am in the snow
When it is snowing
...
Make a way for him, and give him a hand
He is a wounded soldier
Fighting in the front lines
In a midst of a fierce fire
...
The moving storm has blinded us all
Without realizing our clothes are up in the air
Walking naked
...
Its waters still fall and run deep
The sound taking me afar
Because this river down
Flows carrying my dream along
...
You never knew
What I would be to you
In a place so new
All you thought was you
...
(An ode to Nigeria, Burundi, Kenya, Iraq Palestine and Israel)
For one who could have been my brother,
Why is your hand on my neck?
...
Sitting here in the murky room
My vision is gone
I only see crystal like figures
Standing or moving up and down
...
Remember the little steps, trying to run?
The little smiles trying to laugh?
Inaudible words trying to speak?
...
It is strong as the wind
Heavy as the clouds
Beautiful are the words
Strong are the chords
...
Speak, My Pen Speak
When my voice dies
Speak, my pen speak
When my hands fail to pull the strings
Speak, my pen speak
Let the ink flow and bring out the shabbiness proclaiming justice
Let it liberate the enslaved mind and soul,
let it sing wisdom and love
Let it wail when I fail to stand for the truth,
the poor, the oppressed, and the needy, and the slaves,
please stand up and speak for me, my pen speak!