Oft had I learned to wade amiss
In honed beams of feared craton bliss
‘Neath the tumult fly, the lad was a hue
Of passion, pride and warm oceans so blue
...
Whilst my life aches it cannot break
It boils, brawls and brews brittle flake
Mutant dreams that refused to speak
All pulpy, squashed, one ungroomed teak
...
When life clasps its mad fungibles
In crispy painless manacles
We must wobble in a trend
We are strong, strong and long
...
I have come with a voice, a hand
to brush earth's façade green and
thin filmed grenades to wand
the warring wasps wangling the land, with ease
...
Come from the cold, come pure child
Come from the mould that makes the racks chide
Come from the fold: first of its pride
Come with the gold; lay it on earth's landslide.
...
A rundle well felt
A peduncle to bear new life abreast
The oddities of wildest quest
Mortals seek and never seem to like
...
Sifting still through the past, at last
The crows have crowed on its wreckage.
Bring songs to me, birds of the African ties from tides
That sprouted and stunted undammed.
...
May your children be born males well fit
Or females sweetest life won't drift;
Your palms coated with camwood
Nurse them on to adulthood.
...
The past is now gone
Like a night with a sun;
Its deeds in a song
Fondles a ready tongue....
...