Andesikuteb yamusa

I wish Africa was a country,
And I wish it has 54states,
With heaven as its capital,
And madiba,
...

Me, myself, I, you, yourself and them can write this poem,
Pure with no prejudice or self elation.
We will write it beautifully well like an Arabian sonnet.
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I will have to wake up early to think,
Cos i need to submit a poem this morning,
A beautiful poem for that matter.
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My son,
Let nothing worry you.
Something you can't change?
Don't let it disturb you.
...

And to you Gaza.
Too much, too long
Have your women wept.
Wearing dark gowns with swollen eyes,
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Some of us are poets of conscience,
For we don't just write,
Except when injustice strikes or
Maybe when good tidings knock.
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Motherhood is a spiritual affair,
Those of us who know it have affirm that a mere mortal cannot breastfeed,
Even an angel i very much doubt.
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God has always been good,
But this religion Is evil.
Evil to its root.
For a man to know that God created all and still believe that his neighbour will dine in hell is too evil.
...

I dare not rest my head this night,
Not even to think,
Lest my chance comes very early in the morning,
And for sure it meets me unprepared,
...

I doubt one can make man perfectly well,
I very much doubt if the same fellow can design this earth so beautifully well,
I am in doubt the same old guy can create me,
The handsome me if he is not a poet.
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I am scared for my life,
For a spirit has entered my inner soul,
I keep writing poems,
I can't even do anything else.
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With so much tears,
We dig these graves.
With many dead men to commit to mother earth,
We wont need these coffins again.
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With my hands itching so much,
And my mind being still open,
I wish I had something to write.
With my big mouth wide open,
...

Don't stand near me then,
When I will be among the clicks of the camera,
Receiving this whole world.
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To think that i will sleep and wake up a god,
Eat and rule this earth,
Dance and connect this world.
So stupid must I be.
...

I won't start with any cuffs around my wrist,
Not with any word that binds my dealing,
Not this beautiful virgin year.
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As long as injustice persist,
With no end in sight,
No will to stop it,
This women will always wail
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As long as injustice persist,
With no end in sight,
No will to stop it,
This women will always wail
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When all your plans drift away,
All Within an inch of completion,
Having invested so much in planning,
And so many hours in prayers
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If all you know how to do is to degrade angels,
The womenfolk amongst us,
Those pure souls whose lives are just,
Then all of us are prostitutes.
...