No Sunset Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

No sunset

A quite young poet
Recited his poem
And ended with tears
In the eyes that were red.

His black T-shirt said:
"SHAKSNIGGA! "

Speaking on and off,
He showed the slogan,
We heard his heartthrob:
"My skin and blood
Tell me am African
But I was born here,
For ages, Canadian.

Ancestors were hunted
To be shipped as slaves
To parts of America…

They lived like horse, cattle,
Greyhound, chicken, maid,
Sold, purchased in markets,
Since belonged to masters.

If any among them
Said a word, resisted,
Was beaten, lynched,
Murdered…

After long, many years
They forgot tongue, culture
And became households' dolls
To work in house or farms…

Now, here, slandered
I am lost and wonder
If I am human…

Clouds send rain, shower
Of the endless questions!

Have dreams, nights, and days
Of the things that happened
To parents, ancestors…

Past is past, forget it,
I am told, easily…

Find it hard so shy off,
Go in bed and lie down,
Close and open eyes,
Look around at the walls
And ask them same questions
That kill me, hurt conscious…

Master of literature
Studied Shakespeare…

When reading Othello
Realised that author
Was racist and founder
Of insults to our race.

I feel the younger kids
That speak tongue of king
And were raised British…

They have been brainwashed
By cruel, brutal…

Know nothing beyond what
Have received and were taught.

Try to forgive them
Do my best to forget
But in me, very deep
I feel the signs of whip
Carved in me as painting.

They are serpents, snakes,
Dangerous with venom,
Poisons, are endless
Like the wine's sediment."


After while, went, returned
Brought more examples
Of cruel Britain.

All in all, he showed us
That Brits took revenge
Of the time of French
And Germans to Greeks:
"Nothing was English! "

The so-called Britain
Was like dust under the
Hooves of victors' horses.

When the king and kingdom
Found themselves in palace
They became overwhelmed:
"No sunset to kingdom…"

Kings, Queens, and friends
Thought they were special.

To them all the others
On Island and elsewhere
Were nothing but servants
Of Kingdom, Ministers!

They stole Indians'
Jewellery, tea, and herbs
And sold them to others
As if were of Kingdom…

Foolishly the King said:
"Send, assign my agents
To go out, rule over…"

In this way they made the
Colonies on papers…

Being kind and honest
Residents of states
Gave shelter to serpents.

What revealed the poet
Of himself, his parents
To early ancestors
Can be seen everywhere
Deep in bone, and brains
Of the hosts, and remain
A shame to Britain…

Look at the Africa
Australia, Canada
USA, and beyond
To the: "Home children! "

Decree of Kings, Queens
On, about London's kids
Whose parents were not rich:
"Ship them out of London
And send them far away
To distanced colonies…"

Young poet, prophet
Talked about Margaret,
Ann, female, a surgeon:
"Bulkey served in army,
For half a century,
As a man, since woman…? ! ",

With anger in his chest:
"Brits loved nobody,
Not even their women,
A woman meant nothing
But being sex machine! "

When parents eat own child
Should you, or anyone,
Wonder why they call "Wild, "
The ones who dare, have guts
To fight and resist the brutal?

Of poet I learned to
Stand up for my rights:
"Devil is in detail…! "