Treasure Island

delalorm fiaka

(19th JUNE 1988 / ACCRA, GHANA)


Steadily it crept from the helm...
And seeped unabated down the arteries to the heart of our very existence
A thumb stuck out, a tongue run riot...
The incandescence of our moral bulb faded slowly, the once illuminating crescent now shone so dimly..
Perhaps they were right, when the labelled our tenements as dark
With just whispers and gasps we will lose the fight...then our sordid temparement would be striped stark
An industrious course we did chart, but alas! Pretentious kings tainted with hypocrisy pulled our prosperity away in their malicious carts.
These supposed men proved to be that dart that pierced the heart and cut short the perfect start that Sumanguru and Mansa Musa did on our lands impart
From the silicon valleys of Kinshasa to the arid terrains of the sahara...the treasures of the land are buried ever so deeper
Greed personified, leaps through cabinets and plush palaces..leaving the people mystified, and himself? Virtually deified
Humility and sanctity sacrosanctly petrified..
Chicanery and institutionalised pilfering perfectly justified..
If the shepherds ignore the herds because they have lost their heads...
Then alas the thin thread of justice on which we tread will indeed be torn to shreds.
Why should they take cognisance as the heads of our states?
They don’t seem to have heard anything of our denigrating states..
The state of penury in which they put us..
Whilst sipping small stout with our income tax.
The state of dreary drudgery and smothering slavery
They flaunt at our expense... after stealing our consciences on the podium of pretence..
To these caricatures we lend credence...
Oh! What nonsense! ! !

Submitted: Saturday, April 13, 2013
Edited: Friday, October 04, 2013
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Poet's Notes about The Poem

This poem scoops a spoonful from the enormous bowl of insensitivity and greed of African leaders. It resonates the lead role our supposed leaders play in the catastrophic storyline of Africa.

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