The kernel is split
Kola drowns the voice
Stifled limbs on drums
We do no' but spit
Squawking no noise
To lineal eardrums
Three harsh days it rained
My grit miscarried
Amidst thundery flays
My heartbeat morbid
I strain for the chimes
But…the blues…all blues
Yonks of twin-decades
Silence undignified
Will charity aid?
Or these shadows fade?
Kolanuts we consult
Two pieces face down
Rays pierce the dark stream
Through to accursed crowns
And the blues…the blues…
Twigs on contorted faces
Passages we thought hopeful
But…
Returned messages mournful
The blues, the blues keep singing
Question not my grey strands
The womb forsook my cries
My woes have gone untold
But…
The Blues
They never stop
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem