Afrika's
Like a free car
Driven on tear gas, across road blocks
Torn apart by drivers with
Looting rights, not driving permits
Afrika
Really a free car
With tires, worn out but never tire
And its doors of opportunities
Are ajar, inviting investors or is it imposers!
The fore lights are dim yet bright
Clouded by morning mists, misrepresentations..
The rear lights are images of past regimes!
And absence of memory lanes
A free car is a registered motor mobile
Made in Afrika, by Afro-experts
With free scars
Aars, DK: May 4,2012
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Revisited. Earlier version written in 1990 and the contents live on.....