'Mes Chers Compatriots' - A Bus Converstion. Poem by fon tuma

'Mes Chers Compatriots' - A Bus Converstion.

Rating: 5.0


P1: Must we return to the age of stone again,
when club-men gave monarchy precedence
shall we revert to the justices of birth,
the chaos of Class?
And The Frogs who should know better...

P2: What would you suggest we do of them (The Frogs I mean)
how do we tackle their transgressions?

P1: We must crucify their foolhardy meddles,
bake their tongues of thirsty greed
in the flames and kilns of revolution.
We must...

P2: Listen here, Blood begets Blood and is never wasted.
Spill it, and it willl come back roaring to accuse you.

P1: Then what would you? We lay beneath the sharp,
pointed heel, bare our naked chests to their points?
accept their theft and theft as they ransack with
bloody impunity our land's lay lush and rich,
this country our fathers trekked many miles to achieve
fought blood for blood for, tamed man and beast to gain?
And for whom if not us they did this, for their children's children,
for posterity. Should we cede without work this
country of their immense toils?

P2: So how far down the road of sacrifice will you go?
you who are so eager to bruise flesh and scrape skins?
How much can you stand and take?
Will you repel their flying missiles of metal with worktools,
when bullets come tearing through the raging crowds,
will you stop their wounds?
When our women lie withered after the takes of soldiers,
will you comfort them, replace what has been stolen?
Will you Stand and Stay when the lightning strike comes?
Go query youtube then return to speak with me
just type and ask what happened in the Coast dubbed by Ivory,
I looked there and saw a head-less woman,
A woman with no head! !

- Silence, a faltering start of speech, the consideration of these quizzes and then... Silence.

P2: I see my questions imprison your tongue,
And when speech will come, Whisper my friend,
whisper for you are friend.
Quench the blazzing zeal of your youthful blood
dilute that sour-ness that rises from your bile
accustom to shout-less words, cloak your impatience with indifference
register the accounts of this baleful night we ride,
watch and wait for that spark that will come with light
when sure justice will fall swift an strong, when...

P1: At last in you I see an countryman,
Alas I fear our paths from the other must stray.
Why wield wisdoms of complacence,
why attempt the tragic trod of homeless strays?
Here lies my home, my hearth, my country-land
where for too long, we have shambled by zombied in ineptitude,
But no more. Here I shall burn of their slug-like mouths
those who come with smiles in front and daggers behind
here will I up-root the venom of that leave-less leach, come to stay.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
G. Murdock 10 February 2010

'with smiles in front and daggers in back'....this rant like poem speaks of passionately felt anger and intuitive visions which touch many nerve endings. Yes wisdom of complacence is the halmark of veterans, of those who have been trummeled i.e. tossed like chafe and seperated from the spirit leaving a heavy and inflexible summation of life which does little to address more current matters and needs of ideals. We have not done our best to prevent the onslaught of war or poverty or rape. When the questions arise we hear familiar answers which do little to address the issues. Like listening to politicians proclaim their dedication to fixing the ills which are incurable. It is these politicians we leave in charge of our destiny and they have their own ambitions to attend. This poem churned up many thoughts of injustice and apathy, things we all contend as members of an afflicted society.

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fon tuma

fon tuma

Bamenda, Cameroon
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