we say democracy
he's power drunk and so shows no mercy
burn the banner of idiosyncrasy
and eschew autocracy
yet we lift a finger in support of imperialism and supremacy
my thoughts are hard pressed-
as in ma own land, I'm fast depressed
many remain enslaved
food abounds yet mothers and babies are starved
we employ the trickery of destruction
so peace would listen
soon our wisdom fails us
and the chanting of war songs, we hasten
but on a blank page,
I wish this whole picture was re-painted
Darfur, Rwanda, Ivory coast….elsewhere-tsunami
and many fled to Miami
Lybia, Gadafi, Mugabe, Zimbabwe
we all flip our hands in despair
cause the hearts of many, are torn beyond repair
(the world is in taters
and our pretty hair,
is shaved by unscrupulous barbers
they call themselves, freedom fighters
in their bid to make things better,
they end up dispatching treachery
printed on flyers)
on the hype of this game of co-habilitation,
let selflessness preside
when in our hearts, we allow empathy to reside
lets not first destroy
only to rebuild through pain-like the city of troy
illicitly we cut down trees and chase the wild into extinction
whereas amongst ourselves, myriad souls need immediate eviction
our way of life depicts madness
constantly, in the middle of our wisdom, sits a dent of foolishness
the truth is coated with lies
But soon men would come to realize
that over their heads, a typhoon
of profound danger loom
At a hovel of haphazard gatherings,
the selfishness of men are adjourned
to meeting days unknown
(the world is in taters
our pretty hair,
is shaved by unscrupulous barbers
they call themselves, freedom fighters
in their bid to make things better,
they end up dispatching treachery
printed on flyers)
like sleepless clock hands, throughout the night,
Men gather for themselves possessions, in the absence of fright
Eat and drink of the cup of prosperity
To the harsh neglect
Of the pleading gaze of posterity
They ride on the backs of policies
Hide under the umbrella of economic indexes
And with the hand of fiscal projections,
They pat each other on the back like babies
from one time to another
dreams are updated
as our hopes remain outdated
"peace is crippled
fear and insecurity are coupled
the future is negated
and our weariness is doubled
in the filth of expectancy, we grope
as with a wrinkled faith,
for better days we all hope"
(the world is in taters
and our pretty hair,
is shaved by unscrupulous barbers)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem