Abdallah Mpogole (30, July 1982 / Iringa, Tanzania)
Cry for Culture.
Joseph was his name,
Jamaica is da place he was born,
In August a shock comes as me heard him gone,
Hill was then his fame the real flame,
The keeper of the gate of zion,
Healing through the messages all over the nation,
Hill Joseph, Joseph Hill,
Culture man with a skill,
Bush Doctor who gave no pill,
Hill the Wheel to my trail,
Joseph the wheel to the holy,
The wheel to my Will,
He came to the earth to teach,
He came with a book to preach,
He warns the poor and remind the rich.
Joseph was for real, humble man and not a snitch,
Oh Jah oh! Jah u've taken our switch,
the switch to bright,
the switch to all white.
I've search and seek but no other might,
I'll always remember you for the day and night.
I dreamt about you one night,
but it aint come that right,
The time you gone, the world was still in fight.
Fire arms and Bombs was used to destruct.
Oh! Joseph you was to wait a little bit.
Yutes dem ar sufferin'
In da street dea no love and unity.
Pressure for living and corruption calamity.
War and fite hatred between the East and West.
Religious men are for money makin'
Environment are dirty fi poor while dem in power enjoying da wheat.
Oh! HILL THE WHEEL TO MY WILL.
Comments about this poem (Cry for Culture. by Abdallah Mpogole )
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