Beautiful Inheritance Poem by Thabani Khumalo

My people are dismally failing to enjoy themselves in the freedom of Barmby,
because of whatever trend is happening in the U.S.A.
They wake each and every time from their sleeping sleep -
mourning miserably like cats in the breezy midnight hour
and dead-bored because they are African children.
They richly nourish a deep and poorly put feeling -
that being on this side of the planet
makes them feel far from the comfort of a proud home.
Each and every day they lose an even enormous piece of their banking minds -
looking at the motion pictures from the past.

Now, my father was a king over a country,
when he died he left their inheritance under my care.
I am the only one who knows how to deal it out perfectly fair,
so as their king I will fight for their physical rights against the television -
because they all need to face towards the future.
Their beautiful inheritance is their future.