A.G.R.E. [ African Genius Rhythmically Elevated ] Poem by Merlin Mwaura

T' is a night in this urban hub,
many are come to make merry,
drown whatever demons they have to fight
every morning to make life worth meaning.

I too long for this nights,
habit them with my legally influenced friends,
who easily get into fights,
with strange and callous fiends.
I for one, have taken a drown of this lime...
I get to the fifth an' I call Mary.
I am merry.
Too long has this night been cherished,
we make of it, Like knights at a round table.

Then in comes the A.G.R.E,
Sporting this rugged looking hair,
an' he proceeds to join this night with a comment,
' I was told to cut my hair an' get a decent job'
' I kept my hair an' now I have a decent glass'
An' down his throat, an African beverage flows.
' Imara kama Simba '...Firm like the lion!
I guess we were all lions once,
when we could sport our manes with 'pride'.

The A.G.R.E,
can make a rhyme worth content,
for all here stretch in silence of the moment,
when truth comes out this street kings...
with speech an' talent not imported.
Where are our ladies we are ask?
In bed says one,
At home says another,
I say, she is here with me, in my mind
What an applause I get!
T' is a natural theater...
The Colosseum of broken an' bent dreams.

I have here a photographer, he does IT science...
I have a writer, he scribbles in books of Ledger,
I have here guitar player, Oh sweet music he makes...
but he too is fall in Economics.
I am an artist - Poet 'n' Painter- I am in IT science...
We are here harness with talent,
wasting in our current market science.

The African Genius Rhythmically Elevated,
Has done some marketing himself,
where will our sons one day wind up.
Will they be Lions like we once were...
before we shaved our manes for others comfort.
shall they do what they love most,
be rhythmically elevated.

Our faces mirror in our glasses,
Smoke being our morning mist,
tethered stories told an' heard,
of heart's broken an' virgins stolen...
The African Genius will wake again,
To the harsh an' cruel world,
what I live in,
what we live in,
till one day we shall do no more...
an' be rhythmically elevated
to some sky above.