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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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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My son,
Let nothing worry you.
Something you can't change?
Don't let it disturb you.
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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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I will let her go,
Someday, but definitely not today.
Not while she is young,
Not when milk still flows down her mother's chest.
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It is hurtful that we are long forgotten
Children's, daughters we are.
With hearts and mind that love and a head that reminds us of our misery.
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Arm yourself with your gun.
Kill my brothers and rape my sisters
You demon.
Do your wicked deeds with pride,
...